Her mother wanted her name to be Jenny because she thought it was beautiful—and of course her middle name is Joy, with the way she carries it into the world– but she wrote on the certificate, “Jennifer” just in case, for when she was grown. But Jenny and I are in our thirties now and she’s tried out the grown-up name, but it couldn’t stick for me because I know her and I know her name, and I really can’t separate them: Jenny is beautiful and joyous to me.
Jenny once told me about a book she’d come across where we could learn the myriad names of the only God. We could learn the names and their meanings so that we could speak straight to the heart of the The Lord That Heals or The Lord My Shepherd or The Lord of the Five-Millionth Chance Who Never Gives Up On You Even Though You Are Beyond Ridiculous as our circumstances might require. I loved this idea and I love Jenny, and I never followed through with it because that’s so often the way with me, The Girl of Good Intentions, but I bet you Jenny did, The Woman Who Seeks God.
So I know only a few Biblical names of the one I refer to as God because that’s the English word and it’s accurate at its most basic level if totally, thoroughly impersonal. This frustrates me because I really want to know God even better than I know the well-named Jenny Joy, and how well can you know someone if you don’t even know their name? And even if I’d read the dang book, I’d still only know translations of God’s name. (I think God spoke those Hebraic words so that the people would understand, but you can’t tell me their language or mine or 998 others are God’s own, and that is what I want. Oh, for a thousand tongues to sing my great Redeemer’s praise, but if only I could know and speak God’s name in that one true native tongue.) Is it so much to ask? I want the actual voice of God speaking the actual words of God telling me the actual name of God. I don’t just want accurate; I want personal.
Photo by our own Preston Yancey
And I will get a little personal here: For all the confessions I’m willing to write out into the world because I know you’ll mostly understand or at least try to forgive, there’s one confession– a wild and beautiful one, mysterious and fearsome– that I don’t often utter because I know if you’re not careful, you’ll look at me sideways-upside-down, and even if you are, you’ll hold tight your thoughts about my crazy. And isn’t that the worst, to not be understood?
But I’ll tell you now because I have no story without this truth: Sometimes I hear the voice of God.
It’s not audible, but I hear it in the same space where I silently sound my prayers, and it comes quickly and clearly, stronger and better than any of my own thoughts. It comes like a dagger– pierces and retreats– and I wish it would stay, but I know I couldn’t bear it. And I don’t hear it often, but it always changes me when I do.
Sometimes The Lord is Peace sounds like my mother, loving tenderness weaving through every word, and I am comforted soul-deep; sometimes The Lord Who Makes Holy sounds like my sarcastic professor, cutting clarity punctuating every sentence, and my pride and I are put back in our place. Always God sounds like Jesus, even if they’re words he never spoke; always God sounds like Scripture, even if they’re sentences I never read.
And I know The Lord is There is real because you cannot deny a person who has spoken straight to you. I know God is real, but do I really know God? I know the voice; I know the words; I know the feeling. But do I know the person when I do not know the name?
So I asked. In tears and in frustration and in my own sideways-upside-down crazy ridiculousness, I asked God, begged, “What is your name? I just want to know your name. Will you tell me your name?”
And I did not hear God’s native tongue, perhaps too glorious for earthly ears, but The Lord Will Provide spoke words I could understand (because isn’t that the worst, not to be understood?)—three times, strong-piercing-clear:
I AM.
I AM.
I AM.
***
Will you tell me your name? And maybe a little of who you are? It’s a gift to write for you here; I’d like to know you more.
Tamara, I am Kelley. Your confession is safe with me because it is shared by me, I too sometimes hear God speak. I remember Him asking me to open my life and arms and adopt our son. I remember not so much the sound, but the sensation of Him telling me He was healing my daughter of HIV/AIDS (and then He did). More recently I remember His gentle nudge amid a Saturday at Chick-Fil-A, a nudge to tell me that my children were good, and I was good with them (I needed that nudge that day, mothering can be hard and filled with land mines of self-doubt.) Not always, but often enough I know Him to interject His words into my life. So glad to know you aren’t looking at me sideways right now!
Thanks for sharing this morning, I loved hearing your story. I love how His voice and even His name haunt us in holy ways.
Kelley, how amazing, what God has spoken into your life. “…haunt us in holy ways”–amen.
I think this is my most favorite post written by you. I could feel your emotion as you wrote it. I love the vulnerable tone. Some think this is a bad word, vulnerable, but I say it is beautiful. I am uncertain if I “hear” the voice of God, but I know he is real. He has shown me his character in so many ways- Revealer, Restorer just to name a couple and most recently Giver of Voice. It truly is a beautiful thing…thank you for sharing.
Jennifer, thank you so much. It’s humbling and astounding the many different ways we’re each drawn in to knowing God.
Brittany here. I love looking at a name as a gift. This is wonderful. Thank you for trusting me with your name.
Hi, Brittany. When you say, “this is the word that I use to represent myself”– yeah, I think that’s something bigger than we often think about. I like that you call it a gift.
The Lord of the Five-Millionth Chance Who Never Gives Up On You Even Though You Are Beyond Ridiculous I love this name. Cathy here from CathysVoiceNow I love your blog and have shared with you before. I have met some amazing people through blogging. My name was Carol Lynn when I was born but I was adopted by my grandparents and they changed to it to Cathy. A guess a name doesn’t define us!
Cathy, thanks so much for reading and letting me know you enjoy it. What a great point illustrated by your name change– I suppose our names define us only as much as we choose for them to. I can’t help feeling that whatever name God uses, it’s for really, really good reason.
I’m Georgi. Georgianna, actually, but usually only called that by telemarketers and by my mama when I was little and in trouble.
Sometimes I hear God, too. Three years ago, I was driving to Children’s Hospital. My best friend’s newborn was in the NICU, seriously ill, going into surgery to save his life. I felt like God said he was going to be OK – but how in the world could I tell the parents that? I mean, what if I was wrong and he died? What would that do to their faith? To mine? And as I argued with God, he gave me a picture of a baby in a bed with hands ministering to him, with angels standing behind these doctors. And when I got to the NICU, they let me go back with my friend to see the baby. And.. the baby bed looked just like what I had seen, and I felt God ask me if I trusted Him enough, and in fear and through tears and hugs I whispered to my friend that I had somehow seen this, and felt God say he was going to be OK. It was the scariest thing I have ever done regarding what I heard God say. But I was scared. I prayed so hard, and worried the whole time he was in the NICU that he would die. But he didn’t. He’s three now and no one can tell he had life-threatening issues upon birth. But I still question, every time I hear God. Is it me, wishing? Or is it Him, trying to get through to me?
Georgi, what a powerful, beautiful story– thank you for sharing. So full of God’s mercy and comfort; and what a gift, to be asked for hard faith and to see it so mightily proved.
Hi Tamara, I’m Amy — Amy means beloved and while my parents didn’t pick it for that reason, I think it has been one of the truer things said of me and for that I am humbled and grateful. In that last year or so, God has spoken to me audibly three times through other people and they didn’t know it. But I did and it stopped me cold. One was my (at that time 2 year old niece) who put her little hand in mine as we walked across some big scary snow and said, “You come with me” — by which she meant “I’ll come with you” and I say in an instant how often I do that with God. I tell Him to come with me when I really should say, as I put my hand in his, I’ll come with you.
Amy, what an incredible way to hear God. And how humbling to know that our words might be the vehicle.
‘I know God is real, but do I really know God?’
My feelings exactly. I’m Louise, I’ve just come back home after 10 months abroad doing youth ministry. At least once a week I would cry out to Him for help, as I realised my complete inadequacy to do the job. Back home and in the day to day ordinary where I manage fine by myself I am barely communicating with God, and it feels so empty and silent. And I am stuck in this. Thankyou for your piece, for reminding me of the Five-Millionth Chance God who will welcome me with open arms.
Louise, I’ve noticed the same thing in my life– I feel closer to God when I feel in greater need; I lose touch when life is going along in a more ordinary way. But surely God’s there all the time, as you said, with open arms. Let’s try to run there, even on the ordinary days.
I usually don’t post my real name on the internet. But for some reason, right now, it felt appropriate. I admit before you announced your confession I felt fear. I was afraid that your confession was going to be doubt. “I believe….but….” When you said you hear God’s voice I smiled big. Big big big. See, I too hear His voice and know that sideways-upside-down-you-are-crazy look from others. When I speak to unbelievers and they ask me why I believe the God that I do and not some ancient mythological god, I hesitate always to tell them the truth. That my God has spoken to me. Because I’m afraid of that look. Thank you for having the vulnerability and courage to speak it out load. God bless!
Brandy, thank you for sharing your name; thank you for “confessing” your blessing. I have to think even our timid confessions of the Lord’s presence in our lives bring God glory. And when we learn that we have the same wacky-sounding experiences as others, I think it helps us believe the experiences are true.
Hi Tamara,
I’m Dorcie. I hear God’s voice sometimes too. It is always life changing when it happens and it is always loving. Sometimes it fills my entire being with a sparkeling Joy. And sometimes, it is so gentle and peaceful that it is like floating on a quiet river. I just wanted you to know that you are not crazy and that The God Who Loves You Exactly The Way You Are No Matter What… Is!
Dorcie, thank you so much for that reminder of God’s name. I need it and love it.
Doubt has place in my life. Questions too. But when people ask me if God is real, I always say yes. He’s real, and I know it because He speaks.
Suzanne, I feel like I always live in that tension between doubt and faith, sometimes teetering more to one side or the other. But God does speak, and once in a while– by grace– we can even hear it (whether it’s in our ears or minds or hearts).
Hi. I am Beth, simply Beth. I’m not Elizabeth my given name or liz or bethy and I find myself here
Broken but carrying on. I am a mother of two wonderful, bratty, annoying, loving girls. Who seem to have inherited my genes of asking questions, hard questions to answer some that i am still asking myself. With chronic disease that have no cure and make me want to give up on life sometimes. A marriage that has been tested, failed and grown stronger because of the love, the hurts, and the friends who helped us through. With no church “home” but a church of misfit neighbors loving helping auguring with faiths as wide as the ocean.
creeping along the path of life not seeing past the next step, not because i don’t want to but because i can’t. Closing my eyes listing, waiting, straining for the nudge of God on my heart. Asking questions and questing everything. Then holding the truths i find and doing my best to live them. I’m not very successful sometimes but i do my best knowing that on my own i fall short. Knowing that we are called to love our God with all our heart and all our might and love our neighbor as our selves. To fallow the nudges, the sixth sense, the voice of God for when we do amazing thing happen and when i don’t I’m disappointed because i see how glorious it would have been if i had. So i question what i hear and weigh it against the truth i know and i remind myself to live with purpose. This is me. wanting the kingdom of God to be here on earth and letting the love of Christ overflow to fill others too. Asking questions and answering one brought to me. A christian looking for similarities not differences. thanks i need this.
Beth, simply Beth– simply thank you.
I’m Sarah, and you know me well enough to know that I’m actually “Sarah with an `h’” — that other name without the “h” is not my name at all. It is a curious thing what a difference it makes to me.
God spoke to me once, just once, and I knew it was him because — as you described — it was stronger and better than anything I could have said, and it was a dagger too. The voice he used was my the sound of my husband’s voice, inside my head, with the simple words, “I am not an extension of you.” It was a pivotal moment for me to realize the ways I try to control people and situations — a moment of confrontation with my own deep selfishness. I believe it has helped me know my own weakness and fight my own nature where I needed to, so I guess that’s even more evidence that it was God — it was Good.
Hello Sarah with an ‘h,’ this is Diana with an ‘a.’ And that is one of the most powerful God-words I’ve ever seen in print. This is really at the core of so much of our struggle, isn’t it? God is not an extension of us – nor is anyone else. And we all have to confront ‘our own deep selfishness’ on a regular basis if there is to be any hope of hearing God, of knowing God…not just knowing about God. Thanks, Tamara, with an accent over the second ‘a’, for providing this forum for good discussion, good thinking. God does have limitless names in one sense – but in another, more deeply profound and self-revelatory sense, there is just that one: I AM. And somehow that is of tremendous comfort to me, and yes – even relief.
Oh, and the good it’s done, my dearest Sarah-with-an-H! You continually lead the charge in knowing and fighting (or maybe, relinquishing?) our own natures. You are the Woman Who Pursues Holiness Til I Can’t Help Wanting to Come Along. xo
I am Rhonda. I would have been Rachel had my brother – who was born first – been a girl. I am a seeker – a believer – some days lost and broken and some days jubilant but always brought to tears when I feel near to Him. Even though I know He’s always here – some moments which are treasured, I can feel His breath on my skin and that is what helps me in healing the brokenness and lostness. I have a chalkboard wall in my kitchen – and on it I have written ‘Abba – I belong to you’ – I press my palm on this place and close my eyes and inhale and find it in me to keep seeking, believing, searching – and crying. Thank you for your post.
Rhonda, I love that you turn to your Daddy God to provide and that you find that He does. What a good father, Our Father.
I LOVE this post! I totally understand you. God speaks to all of us in all sorts of ways and it’s really up to us to listen with our open hearts and minds. If we don’t listen this way, we can’t hear God and if we can hear God, we make it harder to live in faith.
Thank you, Kirsten. That’s such an important point, especially since we often get discouraged when God works differently in others’ lives and we start wanting sameness– God does speak in all sorts of ways.
Your honest, loving writings are a blessing to me.
Nikki, thank you so much for telling me. That’s a blessing to me, you know.
Hi Tamara,
My name is Katie Justice. Your post is very moving and I thank you for posting this. I have heard God’s voice a few times in my life. 1 time it was audible and the other two it was not, but I knew it was him. I felt at peace and I knew that things would be ok.
Again, thank you so much for sharing this with us. It is very beautiful.
Good to meet you, Katie Justice. It’s amazing to me that so many people say hearing God’s voice brings peace. Makes me feel like we must be hearing the right God.
Loved it, loved it!! The Lord of the Five-Millionth Chance Who Never Gives Up On You Even Though You Are Beyond Ridiculous: bahahaha!
Sometimes he’s sassy to me too! And that just made me think of a new post for the day.
Tina, I love when I’m reading Jesus in the Gospels and he gets a little snarky. That’s a God I want to follow.
Hi Tamara, I’m Danielle. My name comes the Hebrew name Daniel, or Dan’el — Dan being Judge and El being the old name for God. For much of my life, I never felt attached to my name or that it embodied who I am. Up until my junior year of college, I always thought of my name in a very abstract, detached way. In one of my classes on gender, violence againstw omen, and international law, I had a critical shift in thinking about my name. It was no longer “God is Judging me,” but rather “God is my Advocate for justice.”
oh friend, that name suits you well! xo
Oh my word, Danielle, what an amazing way to think of and seek to live out your name!
Absolute goosebumps, friend. Thank you for sharing this with us.
Leigh means “meadow” and sometimes “poet.” Either way, a good description of part of who I am. My misspelled, mispronounced name that fits me well, even when I long for an uncomplicated name. When I think about it though, names can never convey the totality of who we are or who God is. They can give us some clues but the rest is a mystery laid bare in the context of deepening relationship.
Thoughtful Leigh– it is about deepening relationship, isn’t it? Still, it’s so good to have a name to start. Grateful to know you and yours.
Hi Tamara. This is my favorite post you’ve ever written. It really speaks. I’m Carey, and you know me–kind of.
I, too, have heard God’s voice. I know He has spoken to me many times in many ways, but there is one beautiful time when I actually heard His voice. I rarely tell the story, not because I’m afraid of what others will think (well, maybe just a little), but because when I think to, it often comes to me that there’s no need to share it. But there have been a few times when I didn’t feel that way, and this is one of them. When Ashley, who just turned 14, was two months old, on Labor Day weekend in SE Texas (so the outside temps were in the upper 90′s), we went to visit some friends. More than halfway into our hour and a half trip, we received a call from our friends saying their AC had broken and could not keep the house cooler than 80 degrees. We opted to go anyway. That evening, we sat chatting, me nursing my infant daughter, them tending to their newly-adopted 1-year-old son. The conversation for some reason turned to SIDS and the people we knew who had lost a baby in that tragic manner. Afterwards, we went to bed, where it was really too hot to sleep well. I lay awake for hours and hours, jumping up every few minutes to check on my precious infant, sleeping soundly in the pack-n-play at the foot of the bed. Knowing that sleeping in a room too warm was a contributing factor to SIDS, I could not stop worrying. Finally, around 3 a.m., I clearly heard a man’s gentle voice in my head that said, “Don’t worry. She will grow to do great things.” Now, when I’m in my own head, it’s my own voice I hear. And I don’t speak that formally, even to myself. And I have never, ever forgotten the exact words. The sound and tone of the voice, the phrasing of the words, none of it has ever faded away. After that, I fell asleep within minutes and slept soundly and peacefully (at least until it was time for her next feeding).
I have many, many times over her life found great comfort in those words. And sometimes I find worry in them, too, because I know that God’s idea of “great things” might not always jive with mine. What if he sends her off halfway around the world to live in some God-forsaken place to minister to others? Great for her, great for God, really great for the others…but no so much for Mom! (Your will be done, Your will be done…)
I don’t know if it’s entirely true that you can’t know someone well if you don’t know their name. For the first years of your life, most of us didn’t know our parents’ “real” names, but we knew what we needed to know…what they looked like and smelled like and felt like and that they would be there and love us and comfort us and take care of us. (I realize that’s not true for everyone, but hopefully it is for most.) Not sure…still pondering your point.
Meanwhile, to flip your question on its head, check out Kasey Van Norman’s “Named by God” series (you can find it by Google or FB search). She reverses the question by telling you that God named you LONG before you were born, conceived, or even thought of by your parents. (Sorry this got so long!)
Wow, Carey– thank you. It’s always so good to know you more. And yes, to know that God has known us since before we ever arrived– amazing, amazing.
I’m Carmen, the girl who makes her relationship with God so much harder than it has to be, and at the same time doesn’t try nearly hard enough to build a relationship with him. I have never heard the audible voice of God because I think He knows it would freak me out sadly, but I like to think He communicates to me through blog posts and things. Thanks for this Tamara, you and your writing are beautiful.
Carmen, I am so often the same way– making the seeking so hard that I end up avoiding it. And still, God is the God Who Seeks *Us.*
Hi Tamara,
My name is Jennifer, which means a few different things, one of which is “tender one”. And as much as I resist my sensitive nature, I am forever tender inside.
I hear God the way that you do.
Thanks for sharing your beautifully written words and helping my God-fire to burn more brightly.
Jenny
Jenny, I’m so glad my “confession” has stoked your God-fire. And I think to be “tender one” is a great blessing.
My name is Tracie. I have begged, pleaded, prayed to hear His voice like that, even just once (more than once, but even just once would be something huge to me). But it has not happened yet.
I think this sounds a little bitter. I don’t mean it that way (although maybe I am a little), but I think it is more desperate and hurt. sad.
Tracie, I know the feeling of wanting to hear from God in ways that I don’t. I think we might all have to miss God a little on this side, and it is sad, and it does hurt, but I think that the missing means that some day there will be having. xo
The Holy Trinity…I Am – our Creator, I Am – our Redeemer, I Am – our Intercessor. Maybe that’s why you got your answer three times. How awesome that He answered your furtive question so clearly, so eloquently, and so completely. He must absolutely LOVE that you desire to know Him so intimately!
Thank you, Mom. The Trinity is absolutely the feeling that I came away with when I heard the three-times “I AM.”
Nancy Renee; Nancy is “grace” and Renee is “reborn.” Some days I am both. Some days I am neither.
Nancy Renee, what a gift of a reminder you have, just sitting right there on your driver’s license. Awesome.
Now I’m going to smile thinking about that every time I get asked for ID.
Hi Tamara. I am Laurie. In Honduras, where I live now, I am Loren or Lorena, because the poorer people have never heard the name Laurie. I am known by God, treasured by him no matter how my name is pronounced. God speaks to me in different ways, often through images in my mind. Sometimes, a quiet voice. I know He Is. Now matter what language I use to call on him, he is my Dios, my God, mon Dieu. He doesn’t change because we pronounce it differently. He is always the same.
Yes, yes. Thank you, Laurie.
and it comes quickly and clearly, stronger and better than any of my own thoughts. It comes like a dagger– pierces and retreats– and I wish it would stay, but I know I couldn’t bear it. And I don’t hear it often, but it always changes me when I do.
You describe this so perfectly.
I’ll never forget being in my room late one night between christmas and new year’s during my 8th grade year. I’d asked for an NIV bible for christmas. My parents were in the thick of the last of the fighting before their divorce. It was loud and constant. I laid there with my new Bible in the new version, hoping that I would now be able to understand it. I whispered, “please, God, I don’t know where to look, but I need to know that you are here and that you haven’t forgotten me in this crazy mess. I’m scared. I know I’m not supposed to just flip and point, but I don’t know where to look.” So I just opened it up, hoping there would be some message. I read a verse I’d never heard before: Jeremiah 29:11 I have plans for you, plans for a hope and a future. My favorite part was a few verses later: “I have carried you into this captivity. And I will carry you out.” And he did. God does speak. I KNOW he does, because that little scared and hurting 8th grade girl heard his voice and felt his love and he is still keeping that promise all these years later. He’s still carrying me out.
Love you, T. Thank you for sharing your heart through your gift of words.
Funny, I learned your middle name was Joy from the cover of your Bible.
Love you, Jenny.
I want to know Him, too, but if I’m honest, I must admit to not loving as much as I should. I’m so glad that He believes in me so very much more than I in Him.
My first name, Chad, means “warlike;” however, my middle name–which I’ll not divulge–means “pasture-dweller.” Pretty schizophrenic, no?
I want to know Him, too, but if I’m honest, I must admit to not loving as much as I should. I’m so glad that He believes in me so very much more than I in Him.
My first name, Chad, means “warlike;” however, my middle name–which I’ll not divulge–means “pasture-dweller.” Pretty schizophrenic, no?
Chad, lots of battles were fought in pastures before we transitioned to a more guerilla-style of war. So perhaps you’re warlike in self-defense!
Myself, I carry (from my husband’s family) an ancestral crest that means, more or less “Never forget: we’re so single-minded on attaining our goal that we’ll kill every last mother of you.” I just laugh it off as my “medieval gang-tat” and use it for teaching kids.
Carrie, that is awesome and hilarious!
Chad, who the heck loves or believes in God as much as we should?! Ha. At least that’s not what qualifies us, eh?
Hi my name is Linda and it means beautiful, something that I’m starting to embrace. God has spoken to me through so many ways, so many times yanking me from my stubborn ways, again and again. Yes I’m listening.
Linda, that’s wonderful you’re starting to embrace that you are beautiful. God made you, so, of course you are.
William here but mostly known as Bill – and by some as Little Bill. That last one comes from having a Dad, an Uncle and an older cousin with William on their birth certificate.
On the issue of hearing the voice of God, yep, been there. Not just in a dream or in a song or in a story or in a poem or in a picture or in a quiet hilltop or in a busy city street but right-out-freaking-loud. Sometimes I wish He would take a moment for himself and shut the &@!#% up.
For believers I think this next think is as important. If you’re not hearing the Prince of Perdition on a fairly regular basis you might want to take a hard look at where you are putting the emphasis with your life.
They both have a voice and if you’re only hearing one but not the other I think you’ve got some issuses to sort out
Wow, Bill– an audible voice would scare the crap out of me! It’s kind of one of those things I hope for but am terrified of at the same time.
I find it so sad that we think think people will think us odd for hearing God. Even sadder that many will. But I no longer care. God — my Daddy, my Mommy, my Lover, my Best Friend, my Savior and Redeemer, The Lord of the Five-Millionth Chance Who Never Gives Up On You Even Though You Are Beyond Ridiculous, has showed me some of the depths of that love. A couple of my favorite times God spoke…
“This is the girl you are going to marry.” An actual, audible voice, it freaked me out. There was nobody behind me to say it. Like Mary, I hid this away in my heart for pondering, but at that time I wasn’t even considering marriage. Six or seven montsh later, that girl and I got married. Over 34 wonderful years ago. A great start!
For a while I prayed, “I want to see other people the way you do, God.” Finally The One Who Wants the Best for Me said, “If you truly saw people as they are, [made in my image], right now it would kill you.” So I was content.
A month or so later, I saw the God Who Is an All Consuming, Loving Fire, and this God showed me how I looked, made in God’s image. Then God spoke, “Now you can ask.” I knew exactly what that meant, and I asked, and I began seeing people in a completely new way, seeing God’s image in them.
Then there was the time I frivolously asked, “How many hairs on my head?” and God told me. I was a baby Christian, newly delivered from drugs, and it freaked me out. I didn’t realize yet just how fun God could be, how patient, how … frolicsome.
I love, I love… I love your Voice!
Who am I? I’m a child of a loving Daddy-Mommy-God. What do I do? I love on people. I can’t help it. I write. My day job is in high tech for a little longer.
My name is Miles, which means “soldier”. I used to grovel and just wanted to be a foot soldier in God’s army, with a wimpy understandiong of bnoth humility and my identity. But God’s plan is always bigger than ours, and God keeps speaking bigger things…
Miles, this is incredible– thank you for sharing.
I’m Beth, and I don’t think you’re strange or silly for saying that you hear God speak, because I’ve heard Him, too. I heard Him, nearly audibly, earlier this year. Our first child had died inside of me before she was born maybe a month or two before then. I was sitting on the couch with my husband, silent on a not-particularly-special day, when I heard God speak. He said, “You will have a son. His name is Jacob, and you’ll call him Jake.”
About a month after that, I found out I was pregnant again. I am now nearly 27 weeks along. It is a boy, and his name is Jacob.
Beth, I am so glad God spoke to you like that– how hope-filled, wow. Bless you and sweet Jacob.
beautiful! just stumbled upon this amazing blog and love it.
Thanks, Erin– welcome! I hope you’ll get to know many of the gifted storytellers here.
Named Christine after my maternal grandmother, its meaning is “follower of Christ,” an association I have always loved. Shakespeare/Juliet’s line,
“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet….”
illustrates R&J’s central struggle that what matters is what something IS and not what it is called and comforts me if I meet someone for whom I have forgotten their name but poignantly recalled their goodness. Thanks for a lovely thought-provoking blog.
This is good and true, Christine– thanks.
My name is Katie and I feel a bit lost in the blogger world. It could be said that I feel a bit lost in the normal world too, haha. But I do love your posts. They’re like food to me in some ways – the kind you need to eat to be well, not the sugary, too sweet stuff.
I really appreciate your questions and struggles. For your sake, I wish you didn’t have to have them because they are hard. But I am glad to know someone else has them too. And you definitely convey them well.
But how do you sit in it? In the midst of these struggles and questions? Is it so often very hard? My head hurts from the pulls in so many directions.
I have always wanted to comment, but always talk myself out of it. So, thanks for asking. Please keep writing. I’ll keep reading.
Oh, Katie, thank you so much for speaking here– it is so good to hear from you! I’m sorry you feel lost in these worlds– I wonder if it’s anything to do with the fact that you were made for another one. That’s how I feel sometimes, anyway.
So, how do I sit in the middle of the struggle and questions (and yes, it is very hard)? Well, as you’ve seen, I cry and pray and make demands and beg and wait impatiently. I also try to listen to the nudge that tells me to read the Bible, and I *never* regret it when I do; if only I wouldn’t have to wait for a nudge, eh?
And I write it out here and on my own blog, take a shot at reaching out to a world that by rights won’t understand, and then I find that I’m never the only one, and the world is wild and weird and so often surprisingly good, and someone like you reaches back. xo
Hi, Tamara. I’m Robin.
It’s funny, but after an introduction I’m never quite sure what to say. The truth in your words is comforting and reminds me of home. So thank you for your honesty. You never know what can make a broken heart heal a little faster.