What's in a name? Lots!

I have called you by name - you are mine. Isaiah 43:1

Isn’t it wonderful when you succeed in making somebody happy? It’s even better when you do it without meaning to. This happened to me not long ago, and I went home feeling really good.

So what was this wonderful thing I did? The answer is short and simple: I called somebody by their name.

I didn’t have any official pastoral responsibility for Myfanwy; she is an elderly lady I have got to know through visiting in a local nursing home. I don’t think she gets all that many visitors, but she is always cheerful and determined to be positive about life. We have become friendly over the months and she appreciates a brief prayer after we have talked.

It was during one of those prayers that (with her permission) I prayed for her by name - whereupon she dissolved into tears: “Thank you so much! It’s so long since somebody called me by my proper name.” How sad is that!

Since moving into the home, some two or three years previously, Myfanwy has become known as “Fanna”. I don’t entirely blame the staff for that; most of them don’t speak English as their first language, and I can well imagine that some names  -  especially unusual Welsh ones  -  are a bit of a challenge.

And, to be fair, Myfanwy isn’t actually that bothered. Rather than complain, she has shrugged her shoulders, so to speak, and accepted “Fanna” as a fact of life. But her tearful response to me made clear that I had touched something deep down within her.

Which raises the question: how good are we at paying people the respect they are entitled to by addressing them properly?

Perhaps I have a particular feeling about this because of my own mother-in-law. She was an Armenian, her name Khatoun - “Kh” as in “loch” or “Bach”. As a young woman she married a British man and came to live in a small town in England. She was, I ought to say, quite kindly received by the locals, but they did struggle with her name, and eventually settled for “Kitty”. Which she hated (no disrespect to real Kittys, but it just isn’t her name). But, like Myfanwy, she learned to put up with it. It wasn’t worth making a fuss.

In her case I feel slightly less sympathetic towards the neighbours. Was Khatoun, even with that top-of-the-throat, back-of-the-mouth Kh, really so very difficult? Was it really too much trouble to make that minuscule effort for her sake? I find it hard to believe. Even “Hatoon”, though not perfect, would have at least been some sort of gesture. Perhaps they just felt embarrassed.

We all know how important names are in the Bible. They have clear meanings. Even though it is different for us today, they still have an emotional impact. Your name captures, somehow, the “you-ness” of you, your very identity.

I remember once being addressed as “Chris”, and even though it mattered not a scrap - it was just the understandable mistake of a kind person I hardly knew - I nonetheless felt, just for a split second, quite affronted: “Hey, my name’s Colin, if you don’t mind!”

This experience, combined with my mother-in-law’s, led me to try, every time I meet someone new, to give them their proper name. Not that I always succeed, of course.

God respects our names. “I have called you by name; you are mine” he says. Jesus thought names important enough to rename some of his disciples: Simon becomes Peter; James and John, no doubt humorously, are nicknamed Sons of Thunder. And there is that strange passage in Revelation 2:17 where the “overcoming” believer is promised “a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it”.

Names, in other words, are extremely personal things, which no doubt is why Myfanwy broke down on hearing hers that day. Certainly it can be overdone - cold-callers on the phone presuming on a friendship that doesn’t exist, politicians being over-matey with the broadcaster interviewing them.

But the fact remains that, in normal everyday life, to take the trouble to learn correctly, pronounce accurately and then use consistently somebody’s proper name is a way of saying, “You matter to me. You aren’t just an object in my life. You are a person, utterly unique and infinitely precious, and I want to treat you as such.”

Thank you, O God, that you see and know me as a person, unique and precious in your eyes. Please help me to treat others the way you have treated me. Amen.

Generosity

The righteous give generously. Psalm 37:21

One of the marks of the true Christian is generosity.

I heard it put once: “When God turns people upside down the money starts falling out of their pockets.” And it’s not just money, of course. It’s also time, and concern, and plain down to earth helpfulness.

The Bible is full of examples. 

That good man Boaz ordered his servants to deliberately drop some of the harvest so that Ruth had something to pick up (Ruth 2:15-16). That unnamed widow gave her two tiny coins, though she could ill afford it (Luke 21:1-4). Barnabas “sold a field he owned (had he intended it for his pension, I wonder?) and brought the money and put it at the apostles’ feet” (Acts 4:36-37). The Christians of Philippi brought joy to Paul’s heart by helping him out in difficult times (Philippians 4:10-20). No doubt you can add your own examples.

All of us probably feel a bit guilty when we read passages like this, or hear about a Francis of Assisi, the young nobleman who literally gave up everything he had in order to become a monk; or a CT Studd, the aristocrat and brilliant cricketer who likewise gave up his fortune to follow Jesus as a missionary. 

But we shouldn’t. We needn’t. Our giving is a deeply personal thing, to be worked out between us and God, and what is right for one person may not be right for another. The very idea of “generosity” is subjective, impossible to pin down with precision. 

So I’m not talking about this in order to “guilt” us into greater generosity. Not at all. (Such generosity wouldn’t impress God anyway - doesn’t the Bible say that God loves a cheerful giver?)

No. What matters is that, however we might understand generosity, it should be at the heart of our whole attitude to life, something to call to mind at regular intervals with the simple question: Am I essentially a generous person?

 

It’s a good idea to ponder from time to time what Paul says of Jesus himself: “...though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich” (2 Corinthians 8:9). Could you wish for a more perfect example of generosity?

Why is it that we sometimes forget the obligation (not to mention the joy) of generosity? There are probably plenty of reasons, but I suspect that they boil down to two basic things, and these can be summed up with two sadly negative words: greed, and fear.

Our world, especially the rich western world, is dominated by greed. We are measured and judged by how much we have - what sort of home do we live in, what sort of car do we drive, what sort of holidays do we go on? The in-word for this is “materialism”; once it might have been referred to as “keeping up with Joneses”. The people worshipped by millions of others are the “celebrities”, the rich and beautiful, with their extravagant life-styles.

And, Christians or not, it’s extremely difficult to remain uncontaminated by this kind of mentality.

My wife and I have just moved house from London to Nottingham and, as we knew to expect, there was quite a bit of stress involved. No doubt this is bound to be the case. 

But I seriously wonder if much of the stress sprang from the sheer wealth of material goods we have accumulated over the years. The amount of stuff - some of it pretty good stuff - that we have either given or thrown away in the move is quite frightening. The words of Jesus - “Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a person’s life does not consist in the abundance of their possessions” (Luke 12:15) - come uncomfortably to mind.

And fear. The plain fact, I suspect, is that though we may have a genuine faith in God, when push comes to shove we don’t quite trust him to provide our needs. So we like to save things up. We like to make sure that we have that little bit extra - you know, “just in case...”

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not advocating irresponsibility. We all have our obligations and commitments, and we should take them seriously and prayerfully. But I do just wonder how much we know about taking the occasional risk (if it really is a risk) for God - like the woman who poured the flask of perfume over Jesus’ head (Mark 14:1-11), or Zacchaeus, who gave away half his possessions as well as reimbursing four times over anyone he had fleeced (Luke 19:1-10)?

Do I have a generous heart? Do I have an open hand? Or do I have a tight fist, a cramped heart? Questions at least worth putting to ourselves...

Lord Jesus, please give me a generous heart and open hands. Amen.

Keep it simple!

Trust in the Lord and do good... Psalm 37:3.

What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8.

Are you a person who tends to over-complicate things? 

I had a friend who suffered with severe depression. He was a Christian, and I could only admire the way he was determined to stay loyal to his faith even in his darkest times.

But there was one thing I used to find enormously frustrating in trying to help him: he could never see things in a simple, plain way. Whatever you said, it was always “Yes, but...” followed by a catalogue of reasons why what I was saying couldn’t possibly apply to him.

I’m not criticising him, of course - depression can be a terrible blight, and my understanding of it is virtually nil. But there were times I felt like shouting at him “Why do you make everything so complicated! Why can’t you keep it simple?”

It’s not only people with depression who can get into this mentality. I have learned over my years as a minister that many Christians tie themselves in all sorts of knots when thinking about their faith. (In fact, to be completely honest I’m afraid I’m rather guilty of it myself - if guilty is the right word.)

Do I pray enough...? Why don’t I have the same passion for mission as Joe...? Do I give enough financially to God’s work? Is tithing obligatory...? Why don’t I speak in tongues...? Why don’t I speak in tongues as much as Mary...? Why don’t I always feel like going to church...? Am I being a hypocrite when I smile and greet someone I don’t really like that much...? Is there something wrong with me that I don’t like them that much...? Should I be offering myself for missionary service...? How come I find it impossible to read the whole Bible every year, like Terry...? Why do I find witnessing for Christ at work so difficult...? When I prayed last night about Geoff’s operation, did I pray hard enough...? Did I pray with enough faith...? Jackie always seems so joyful in worship: why don’t I ever feel like that...?

Stop! Enough! I could go on. In fact I could go on and on and on... Oh how complicated this Christian life is! Will I ever get it sorted out in my mind?

Please don’t get me wrong: I’m not denying that there are times we need to do some pretty serious soul-searching, some brain-pummeling, even some real agonising. Our faith as Christians does indeed throw up some very complex issues.

I mean - dear oh dear! - I’ve been a Christian now for half a century and I still can’t really explain the trinity. I once even earned a little master’s degree for a study of predestination - but I’m not sure I finished much wiser than I started. More seriously, I still find the whole topic of prayer - why does it so often seem unanswered? - a mystery.

Yes, the ways of God can baffle our minds.

But, especially when it comes to living our ordinary everyday lives, the words of the psalmist are pretty much all we need: “Trust in the Lord and do good...”  How simple is that!

“Trust in the Lord...” Remember God is your loving Father, so simply put your hand in his and let him lead you step by step.

“And do good...” Jesus said of his followers: “By their fruits you will know them.” Simply look for every opportunity to act in a loving, forgiving, gracious, Christlike way. 

And then those wonderful words of Micah: “What does the Lord require of you?” (What indeed!) “To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”

In the light of words like those, does it really matter how many mega-watts of faith I need to crank up in order to make my worship real, or how many angels can dance on the head of a pin, or how I can both choose to love God, and also be chosen by him?

Pah! Keep it simple!

Loving Father, thank you that even though knowing you stretches our capacities to the very limit, what you want most from us is simple, loving, trusting obedience. Help me to make that my daily aim, walking humbly with you, my God. Amen.

The man who made Jesus smile

When Jesus heard this, he was astonished and said to those following him, “Truly I tell you, I have not found anyone in Israel with such great faith...” Matthew 8:10

“Well, you’ve got to have faith, haven’t you!” the man said to me. 

As far as I knew he wasn’t a Christian, or religious in any way, and I suspect that he might just as well have said “You’ve got to keep your chin up”, or “You just have to hope for the best”. That, I think, is what he actually meant. Keep your fingers crossed! Always look on the bright side of life!

Well, it’s good to be positive when things are difficult. But this kind of vague optimism is a long way from what the Bible calls “faith”.

Every time I hear someone speak like this I feel I want to ask two questions. First, faith in who? And second, faith for what? 

Faith isn’t some feel-good substance floating about in the air like a pleasant fragrance but unattached to the realities of life. No; it’s a solid down-to-earth mind-set that makes a practical difference to your everyday life.

The beautiful story of the Roman centurion that Matthew tells us (Matthew 8:5-13) illustrates this perfectly. Just as Simon of Cyrene has gone down in history as the man who carried Jesus’ cross, so I think this unnamed soldier deserves the title of the man who made Jesus gasp with admiration.

Remember what happened... The centurion has a desperately sick servant, so he comes humbly to Jesus. “No problem,” says Jesus, “I’ll come and heal him.”

But the centurion won’t have it. “No,” he says, adding with real humility, “I’m not worthy of that! Just say the word.” And - as if Jesus needed it! - he proceeds to give him a little lecture on the subject of authority. “Look,” he says, “I’ve got men under me. If I say to one ‘Go’, he goes. Or ‘Come,’ he comes. Or ‘Do this’, and he does it. Well now, if someone as insignificant as me can make things happen in that way, how much more can you, Lord Jesus!”

I love to picture the face of Jesus as he hears and digests these great words, and then turns to the people standing around with a big smile of surprise and admiration. I see him shaking his head with pleasure as he exclaims, “What faith!” 

Here’s a question for us: Have I ever showed the kind of faith that would make Jesus gasp in delighted admiration? Or is my idea of faith more like that airy-fairy thing I talked about earlier?

I think the centurion would have given very clear answers to my two questions.

Faith in who? 

Jesus, of course. I don’t know how much he knew about him - certainly he wouldn’t have had anything like a “Christian” view of Jesus as Son of God and Saviour. But he knew enough to put implicit trust in him. 

And so I need to ask: Is my faith grounded and rooted in Jesus? Is my life focussed on him? Is he my lord and saviour? Or is he just a figure to whom I give a slightly superstitious respect? Either Jesus is the eternal, almighty son of God (we of course know this fuller picture, which the centurion didn’t) or he isn’t. So have I made up my mind? And am I living minute by minute in the light of that decision?

Faith for what? 

Answer, a touch of miraculous healing power on the servant he loved. Perhaps he had witnessed earlier healings worked by Jesus, and so said to himself “Why not me too? Why not my servant?”

Well, unlike the centurion, we very likely have never seen a miracle. So our faith, while it may indeed sometimes rise to the intensity of expecting a miracle, is more likely the kind that says, “I have faith in his care for me - and in his lordship over the world. I believe (there’s another word for faith) that he really is in control of all things. I trust him (and there’s another) for salvation, forgiveness, eternal life, and a direction and purpose in my earthly life. And I am confident (yet another) that he is with me in things both big and small today. Even if I never see a miracle, I have faith in Jesus as the key to the meaning of life.”

And how do I achieve such faith? Ah, that’s the question! 

And the answer, put very simply, is: by sincere searching and serious prayer, remembering one of Jesus’ greatest promises: “Seek and you will find” (Matthew 7:7).

O God, build in me a deep and solid faith - even a faith so certain that it causes the Lord Jesus to catch his breath in amazement! Amen.