“But Sister Jackie, do you know my name?!”
“Surely you figured out who I am though, right?”
“And me and him are brothers! Did you know THAT?!”
The lunchtime conversation commenced with a barrage of questions from the middle grade boys.
One of them hopped up beside me on the stone wall where I sat eating lunch with my class.
“You gotta know who I am.” Earnest eyes searched my face for my answer until I responded correctly with his name. Then he jumped down as he shouted, “GOOD! ‘Cause that’s important.”
Smiling and bemused, I watched them return to their classmates, satisfied that the new 6th-10 grade teacher knew their names.
That morning, I had made the grave mistake of calling a first grader by another student’s name. The little guy stared at me in shock for a moment, then said, “But – but – I’m not him!”
It was quite a surprise for the lower grades to find out that I hadn’t learned all their names yet. And clearly, they hadn’t forgotten it by lunchtime, either.
Yet I probably thought about it the longest, even after they were satisfied in being known, and had forgotten the conversation…
To be called by name is such a secure feeling.
How often, in the rapidly changing scenes of my life, have I clung to the shreds of my identity that remained?
Familiar places. My favorite things. And people who know me, who knew the version of me that I was before everything changed, who will stay with me as I grow through each season of life.
We were born to be known.
To be vulnerable, unashamed, and intimately loved.
We weren’t made to hide, to live behind walls, to be alone.
Our worth, our identity, our existence begs to be recognized.
And in our established relationships with others, we are safe to be known.
I’m blessed with so many people who invite me to share this connection with them, who provide a safe place for my heart to be honest, and share their hearts with me as well.
God has filled my world with so many dear friends!
But even in my bustling social life, amid all the heart to hearts over coffee, the voice message conversations that last for days, the texts that say someone thought of me that day… the ache of loneliness is still sometimes felt.
No matter how many good human connections we invest in and are blessed to enjoy, it will never be enough.
There’s a familiar emptiness that is in all of humanity, that none of us can escape, that we really shouldn’t seek to run from.
For it’s in this that our deepest cry to be known is heard… and it’s a need that nothing can ever fill but the One Who created us with this desire.
My heavenly Father, Who created me and understands me better than I ever will, knows me.
He knows who I am, when all the dynamics of my life get shaken up and I wonder if I’m getting lost in the swirl.
He sees where I am, where I’ve been, and where I’m going. He already knows how I’m going to get there… because He’s going with me, and has the way all planned out.
He’s listened to my heart when I didn’t know what to say. He’s been my home when I didn’t feel at home. He’s been my Security through seasons when nothing around me looked familiar… and in Him, my identity is unchangeable.
So when I feel that little ache of loneliness, of wondering, “who am I?” I embrace it as an invitation.
It’s a beautiful welcome from my Creator to come into His presence and worship, to sit with Him and be reminded of my identity.
No matter where I am, how many new people are in my world, or how far from my family and old friends I may be:
He knows who I am, and He calls me His.
In His kingdom, I always have a place to belong.
