What’s in a Name

There was a day in North Africa that I was introduced to a woman named Rasaas. I commented on how pretty her name was and how I hadn’t heard it before. She smiled a little shyly and asked me if I knew what her name meant. I said that I didn’t.

She casually started into a story about how her village was raided by soldiers on the day that she was born. Her father and uncles were killed. And instead of running to the bush, her heavily pregnant mother hid in a mud hut where she proceeded to deliver her baby alone in the middle of a firefight. When the soldiers eventually found her and her newborn they laughed but left her alone.

Her mother named her Rasaas, which means bullets.

Names mean a lot in much of the world. In a war torn context like this part of North Africa you meet a lot of people with names like “Suffering”, “Independence”, “Hunger”. People are also named after significant individuals in current events, so in the middle of a refugee camp I have run into Mamas calling little “George Bush” and “Ban Ki Moon” in for supper.

I’m a smidge jealous of the rest of my family. My husband and kids’ average American names have pretty accessible Arabic counterparts making it easy for people to connect and relate to them. My (actual) name literally means “citizen of Libya” making introductions confusing and leaving a lingering uncertainty about my background even among people who have come to know me well. Which is both funny and a little weird.

Names. They can communicate a lot about who you are, where you come from, what you were born into. About what is important in your life.

There are a lot of name changing stories in the Bible but I am pretty sure my favorite one is Paul’s. Now, I have to confess that the apostle Paul is not always my favorite Bible character. I am eternally grateful for his resolute commitment to the Lord Jesus and the way the Holy Spirit used him to write much of our New Testament. But I sometimes have a sneaking suspicion he would have rubbed me the wrong way in real life.

But his name story goes a long way in my books.

Because he changes his name from Saul to Paul. Saul – the first King of Israel, handpicked by God himself. Saul of the tribe of Benjamin. How that name must have rung with notes of righteousness and patriotism, with nostalgia for the good ol’ days when the country was independent and winning holy wars. Saul.

But that gets dropped. Not at God’s request as far as we know (as it was for Abram, Sarai and Jacob). Of his own volition Saul decides to be known ever-after as Paul.

Paul. It’s Greek. It’s Gentile. It means, of all things, “small.”

To the churchy crowd Paul hung out with before he met Jesus on the road to Damascus, and probably to a lot of people he hung out with even afterwards, it must have sounded so foreign. No grating. So outside.

Maybe like changing your name from Kennedy to Khaled. From Graham to Gonzales. From Naomi to Nathifa.

Other.

And why did Paul do this? Because he unabashedly chose to identify with the other, those outside of his religion, those beyond his nation all for the sake of the Kingdom. His identity was no longer tied to any kind of nationalism, religious piety, or tribal heritage. It was tied to Jesus. And Jesus calls us all to “other”.

We know Paul’s words in Philippians 3 so well that it’s hard to actually absorb them anew sometimes “…I could have confidence in my own effort if anyone could. Indeed, if others have reason for confidence in their own efforts, I have even more! I was circumcised when I was eight days old. I am a pure-blooded citizen and a member of the tribe of Benjamin – a real Hebrew if there ever was one! I was a member of the Pharisees, who demand the strictest obedience to the Jewish law. I was so zealous that I harshly persecuted the church. And as for righteousness, I obeyed the law without fault. I once thought these things were valuable, but now I consider them worthless because of what Christ has done. Yes, everything else is worthless when compared to the infinite value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.”

I was baptized by immersion for the forgiveness of my sins when I was ten years old. I am a pure-blooded American citizen, descended from the pilgrims who came over on the boat right after the Mayflower – a real American if there ever was one! I am a member of the Church of Christ, a missionary, a pastor, a youth minister, a Bible professor. I went to a private Christian college, graduated seminary, have a DMin, write a nice blog, I’ve published a book or two. I am so committed to the church that I passionately defend her from the heresies of the day.

But compared to Jesus, it’s all crap.

“I once thought these things were valuable, but now I consider them worthless because of what Christ has done.” (Verse 7)

Do we really think, do we really believe in our bones, that being a middle class white evangelical American with a degree in theology and a few years of ministry experience is worth absolutely nothing?

Because until we do, we can never fully appreciate Jesus.

When we are able to loosen our grasp on all the things that clamor for our allegiance, and claim only Jesus, we are then also able to accept things that draw us into closer community with others for Jesus’ sake. When we realize we don’t need to scramble and cling to the identities that give us power or influence in the world, we are then free to take on other identities for the sake of the Gospel. In Paul’s own words, to become all things to all people.

To be fair, I don’t know exactly what that looks like for us all the time. I did in fact give my youngest daughter an Arabic name inspired by the lives of Muslim war refugees and that has birthed many beautiful conversations. But I’m not saying that we all need to stress out our moms with weirdo names for their grandkids. Or at least, not only that.

What I am saying is that we have to be willing to lay aside ourselves for the sake of those outside. And for our own sakes. Those identities that we love so much and that feel so comfortable and right but that are perilously woven with nationalism, racism, ethno-centrism, religion and piety, however subtle and gentle to the touch. The names that are rooted in what we do and who we think we are but that have nothing to do with Jesus.

Where we live, who we eat with, how we worship, what we pay for our kids to do after school. Who we love and hate and what we fear and don’t fear nearly enough.

Our identity is in Christ only. And from that place we are able to move with love and incredible freedom into this world and call others to Christ. Only.