I will change your name

When my husband and I found out we were having twins, we were a bit like Noah filling his ark—most everything came in 2’s. Two cribs, two car seats, two bouncy seats, a double stroller. We also had to come up with two names.

Before we knew we would have twin girls, we came up with a boy name and a girl name: Sam and Ella. They were short and sweet and sounded pretty good together. “Sam! Ella! It’s time for dinner!” “Sam and Ella, did you brush your teeth?” But the more I practiced saying the names aloud, the more I realized that they weren’t all that great as a combo. If said quickly, Sam and Ella can evolve into Sam ‘n Ella. Then it’s just a short trip to salmonella. Not wanting to name my babies after the bacteria that causes food poisoning, we kept looking.

Luckily, we had two beautiful baby girls—Lucy and Ella. (And it was only a couple of times that someone thought I said Lucy and Ethel.)

Coming up with that perfect name can be a fairly stressful task for expecting parents. So much seems to ride on a person’s name. Does it sound good paired with a powerful handshake? “Nice to meet you. My name is (insert assertive sounding name here).” Or how about: “All rise. The honorable Judge (don’t-mess-with-me name) presiding.”

When I get a chance to do a little creative writing, one of my favorite activities is coming up with characters’ names. For me, it’s the first step in making fictional people real.

Although we place a great deal of weight on naming someone, our names don’t have to forever define us. I love that God takes the time to change the names of some people in the Bible. Abram and Sarai become Abraham (father of a multitude) and Sarah (mother of nations) to show that they would have countless descendants. After Jacob wrestles with God, his negative name changes from “supplanter” (he would unseat his twin brother) to Israel which means “triumphant with God.”

Jesus gave James and John the nickname “sons of thunder,” possibly for their fiery tempers. He took one look at the fisherman Simon and changed his name to Peter which means “rock”.

Most of these new names describe what these people would become, not their present situation. God looked into the future to see that Abram and Sarai, a childless couple, would be parents to more children than the stars in the sky. When others saw an impulsive, inflexible, dirty fisherman named Simon, Jesus saw a firm place (a rock) to build his church.

Though it would be impractical to legally change our names to something new, it is possible to redefine who we are with the help of a mighty God.

In the Old Testament, the prophet Hosea was exceptionally obedient to God’s calling. He was even willing to live out the most inconvenient morality play in human history. Hosea was told to marry a prostitute and give their children specific names to describe God’s displeasure with the Israelites. Their first child was named after a massacre that occurred in a place called Jezreel. The next two children were named Lo-Ruhamah (which means “not loved”) and Lo-Ammi (“not my people”). That’s pretty harsh.

But our merciful God didn’t leave it there. In the next chapter the Lord explains that He will pursue His sinful people. “I will show my love to the one I called ‘Not my loved one.’ I will say to those called ‘Not my people,’ ‘You are my people.’”

If you feel that your name is Unloved or Unwanted, allow God to change your name and your heart. It is in His power to do it.

Believe me

I watched a bit of the Republican and Democratic conventions a few weeks ago. I couldn’t watch the whole thing—just soundbites from speeches and nuggets of interviews from protesters and political pundits—but it was enough to get the general feel for the events.

There weren’t a lot of surprises. Mostly you hear the same message from both parties with nuances according to the preferences of their respective groups: “I’ll cut taxes…” or “I’ll fund programs…” or whatever they think will get the most whoops and hollers from the audience.

One thing that continued to surprise me was the passion of many of the delegates and supporters. As the camera would pan across the front row of attendees, one could see people wearing campaign buttons, wild-looking Uncle Sam hats, and expressions of complete worship and devotion. They were definitely invested in their candidates. It made me ask myself if I could ever be that excited about politics. Could I ever believe in a candidate that fervently?

Maybe it’s because I’m getting older or maybe because I was born just a few years after the scandal and resignation of President Nixon. Maybe it’s because nearly everything about nearly everyone is out there and available for public consumption. I couldn’t say for sure, but I can often sense cynicism creeping up on me, seeping into my thoughts and feelings and actions.

So instead of concentrating on all the things I’m suspicious or doubtful of, I’ll think about what I do know and believe in.

After almost 19 years of marriage, I believe in my husband. His thoughtfulness and kindness are as consistent as the rotation of the Earth.

I believe in people. Most people want good for others. Most parents love their children. Most brothers love their sisters. Most of us are willing to put others ahead of ourselves and take turns. Just visit a 4-way stop to test this theory.

I believe in the benefits of fresh air and good food. I believe in smiles and the power of the phrase “Can I help?” I believe in the simplicity of children playing. I believe in teamwork.

I believe in God and His Son. I believe there is more to this world than what can be seen with human eyes. I believe that Love and Goodness and Mercy will ultimately win against Hate.

I believe in these things because of my personal experiences. But my belief also involves faith—believing without cold, hard proof—and that’s the tricky part. Doubt is readily available for those looking for it.

Contrary to what I feel now amidst the madness of the current political landscape and in our bustling modern lives, these feelings of doubt aren’t really new. More than 1,600 years ago, Saint Augustine—former playboy turned priest—wrote these words: “Faith is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe.” He had lived the first 30 years of his life seeking to satisfy his desires but something was missing. A voice told him to open the Scriptures and read. Augustine found something to believe in.

I may not be able to get behind any political candidates, but I will fight these feelings of distrust. To combat this cynicism and at the risk of looking foolish, I will continue to believe—in people, in God, and in what seems impossible.

Fresh coat of paint

I started painting our kitchen this week. If you wanted to know this little fact, there are a few telltale sign: The speckles of paint on my forearms and those persnickety spots on my elbows I never see when I’m washing up; The Cruella de Vil streaks of paint in my hair; The relative chaos of whichever room I happened to be painting; The recently rinsed-out brushes sitting on damp paper towels by the sink.

You can learn a lot when you start a painting project. You learn how quickly you can make decisions, like picking out paint colors. You learn the maximum amount of clutter your family can tolerate (i.e.-they don’t like the microwave to be moved to the living room). You learn how old you are based on how sore three days of rolling and brushing make you. And if you’re painting your kitchen cabinets, you learn that you have 19 cabinets doors to remove and lay all over the house so that you can paint three coats on both sides before replacing them using 76 tiny, tiny screws for the hinges.

But the most important thing I learn each time I tackle another room is how satisfying it is to slap on a new coat of paint. In the case of our kitchen, I have seen what had become a dull and dingy green haven for greasy finger prints and scuff marks transformed into something fresh and new.

It didn’t happen with a snap of my fingers. I put in some major elbow grease just to get rid of the actual grease that had accumulated on the cabinets. Then there was the primer coat, followed by two more coats. It was a lot of work but so worth it.

I love fresh, new beginnings. I love second chances. I love it when “The End” is not the end. And I love the Scriptures that celebrate this: “The old is gone, the new is here!” (2 Corinthians 5:17) “The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.” (Lamentations 3:22, 23)

As long as there is a tomorrow, there is a chance for something new. There is an opportunity for change and improvement. In the darkness, there is beauty to be found in the hope for a better morning.