afraidunder Secret Stories, Written on June 27, 2012
When I first saw the short clip; a beautiful blond girl in white trying to find her way- her identity, through the maze of mud-caked “names” reaching for her something about it gripped at my heart pulling me in. Shortly after that you announced you’d be doing the “Secret Name” study with the youth and I knew it was something I wanted in on even if my age was a bit over the top of the “youth” definition.
I asked and when you heartily welcomed me, I ordered the book. When the book arrived I began to read. The “secret name” idea was new to me & I wasn’t sure if I was ready to buy into the whole thing. I remember getting to the part about Jacob wrestling with God and receiving his new name and I figured if God has a secret name for me than I’d like to know it and so I asked. Growing up I’d known my birth name meant things like strong, womanly, song of joy and while I understood my “secret name” was different I somehow thought something like that might be it. Yet as I asked, there was almost immediately one word, one name that I heard but it definitely wasn’t one on my “possibility list” and well, hadn’t Jacob “wrestled” for his name. I had simply asked and received.
It seemed almost too easy. I figured I’d think on it awhile. As the word appeared in church services, in verses I read, I became increasingly assured… I knew my name. At the final class you began by asking if anyone knew their name… I kept my hand down & promptly wished I hadn’t. By then I knew that I knew my name. It was simply up to me if I was going to Claim it. I had asked and my Father had answered. I didn’t have to understand all the significance of it or how this name linked with my past, or how it would define my future. I simply had to claim it, walk in it, rejoice in having heard my name.
My Father had called me by name because He loves me–I’m his daughter. He’s not going to give me a “bad” name or suddenly jerk it back from me but neither is He going to change it just because my brain didn’t necessarily think it was the “perfect” one. I had asked, He had given, now it was simply a matter if I would receive and be blessed. And with that assurance I picked up my pen and wrote four letters on my white stone….PURE.