Yesterday morning,
I was working through
At one point, I was reading the names of those
who had returned to Jerusalem.
Nehemiah had led the people to rebuild the wall of Jerusalem,
but so few people were there.
What is the point of a wall with no people?
So I begin to read.
A list of names.
Tedious. People I do not know.
Does reading their names matter?
But I made myself read each one.
Outloud.
Those names are there in print.
In the very Word of God.
For a reason.
They were people
with real lives
with real stories.
And I got to thinking about remembering names.
I thought about
Ground Zero.
Every September 11, the names of those who lost their lives
are read.
To remember.
Each and every one.
The name matters.
Even as a 17 year old girl,
I remember
the powerful reality
of life,
of life
given,
as
I
walked
along
the
Vietnam War Memorial.
Truly a place
where I felt like Isaiah
before the throne of God
where words
- any words -
felt
unclean.
I thought of the framed ship's manifest
hanging in my mom's hallway
with the list of names of my great grandfather and great grandmother
my great aunts and uncles
and my Grandpa Tommy
listed as
Tobias.
Their names had to be on the ship manifest
and be registered
at
Ellis Island in 1908.
They matter.
They symbolize the courage it took to leave behind a land of oppression
for the hope of a new life in a new land.
If not for those names listed
on that ship,
I would not be alive.
I was born here
into this life
because of those names
of those
people.
I ought to remember.
I have life because those names were on that list.
I have this life because of their sacrifice.
My 20 year high school reunion
is this coming weekend.
So I have been thinking
about name tags.
Ugh. Who likes to wear a name tag?
But we should.
We want to know who you are.
Know your name.
Remember your name.
I've been going through lists
of names,
trying to find people.
It's hard to find them all.
But I wanted them to know they were invited.
That they were on the list.
That their name matters.
They matter.
After all of this reading names
and thinking about
lists of names
and why they are important,
I opened facebook.
A picture of a nametag was there in black and white
staring at me.
It said
"Hello my name is"
and then
scrawled in the blank space was
"Easily forgotten
because I don't matter."
Someone feels this way
today.
Someone was honest about feeling like this.
Someone is asking the question,
"Do I matter?"
"Does anyone see me?"
Why do names matter?
Because people matter.
A person matters.
Individual lives matter.
They make a difference.
Who hasn't asked the question,
"Do I really matter?"
Who hasn't felt the sting of being forgotten?
Of being left out?
Of being the one not invited.
And which one of us has not been the one
guilty
of
forgetting?
We all forget.
Who are the forgotten?
Who have I forgotten?
Who can I show that I remember and appreciate?
That they matter and make a difference
to
me?
To believe that I am easily forgotten because I don't matter
is to give power to a lie over my life.
Oh, I have felt that way for a moment,
but what about the one who has believed it for years,
for a lifetime?
The one who is continually overlooked?
It is heartbreaking. The lies that we let creep into our beliefs.
Lies shaped by our experiences.
That seem like they are giving us a true message.
Why is that a lie, when it sure seems like I'm forgotten?
Because even if our own family forgets,
we can
discover
the truth
and choose
to
believe the truth
that
there is One who never forgets . . .
There is One to whom we matter,
who gave His life
that we might
truly
live.
Each one of us does matter to God.
You matter to God.
And that does make a difference.
There is One
who intended that we be.
Who wants us to be His.
To be on His list of names
in
The Book of Life.
Who takes us after we have
been busted up and broken
by our own selfish pride and arrogance and sin
and mess and faults
and fears and doubts
and wounded and bruised and manipulated
by others
and
remakes
in
His
masterpiece.
Remakes us
for good works
that will
matter
to others who have a name.
When we do those
good things
He puts in our heart,
we matter.
And a circle of grace can begin.
Of remembering one
and
making a difference to another.
And as we remember one,
they remember us.
His circle of remembrance continues.
We can be a part of it.
And
we
become
beautiful
in
His
time.
And He gives
us
a
new identity
which is
masterpiece,
intended,
cherished,
strengthened,
known,
loved,
chosen,
friend,
heir . . .
to be who He truly intended us
to be.
He
never
stops
changing
us
into
His
image,
if
we will let him have
our heart,
our life,
our name.
And
He
never
forgets
who we
are.
I am engraved
on
the palm
of
His hands.
*
~
*
Art and photography property of Jodene (Jodi) Shaw 2010, 2012.
Wow! Jodi... I have thought a lot about this too for last few years. It started really about reunion time for me too. And I worry A LOT about it as a mother of a child who has been horrifically bullied his entire life. Thank you for this post! It gives me some courage to be the person that will try to always make others feel like they matter. I will use your words to encourage my son to see that he does matter... Everyday, all the time!
ReplyDeleteJodi this is so insightful. I've thought about this many times--Madeline L'Engle wrote once about the power of naming things....well, and people, especially. Your are right! and the artwork you do to go with--stunning!
ReplyDelete