Name…Name…Name

Oh, the name.
If I could only, always, remember the name.

I don’t.

Way too often I’ll run into someone and panic sets in.
The face…I know her…how do I know her…name…name…name…

I start flipping through the rolodex that sits in the gray mass covered by my not-natural blonde hair.
What’s her name?
Which file drawer to open?
Church?  Speaking event?  Client?  Friend?  Sister?  (Ha!  Just kidding.)
Name…name…name…

(If you are too young to know what a rolodex is…
It’s like each person’s contact information on your iPhone contact list is written out on an indivdiual note card and placed on an address book that spins.)

My most embarrassing “I can’t believe I didn’t remember your name” moment…

A familiar face sat at the table in Caribou.  I started flipping through the rolodex in my head.  I decided he was a client I’d worked with a few months before and greeted him that way.

Good grief.

He wasn’t a former client.

He was the guy who lives across the street from us!  For years!
We’ve been in their home.
We’ve discussed the weather in the middle of the street between our homes.

I mean, really.
Good grief.

So when I read Isaiah 43:1, I giggled out loud.

But now, this is what the Lord says, ‘I have called you by name.’

This is God who knows a bazillion people, right?
And He calls me by my name.

This amazing, loving God whose heart beats for me…for you…
He knows my name.
He knows your name.
And He loves us.

So I put this into context…

Who am I to doubt God’s love for me?
Why would I ever think that God doesn’t know what’s going on in my simple little life?
How could I begin to believe that He has forgotten about me?

He calls me by my name.

This is really cool.

 

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