We often attended family reunions when I was a young boy. It took about two hours to make the trip to Waycross, Ga, which wasn’t too taxing, especially considering that fried chicken and other home-cooked delicacies were awaiting me.
It was always interesting at these yearly gatherings. I found it fascinating that so many people could resemble each other so much. Even more interesting was the day that an unknown relative approached me and proceeded to tell me who my dad was and half my lineage after him. “How do you know all that?,” I protested. “I can tell by lookin’ at ya who your daddy is,” he replied. I mulled over his unique abilities and the fact that my dad must be a handsome dude for quite some time.
Family is just one avenue of being well known. In a small town, people know you and your family in a number of ways. The attitude and escapades of your siblings will certainly mark you before you know what hit you. And, in my group of friends, nicknames were sure to stick like glue for years to come.
Recently, I was making my way across a parking lot when I heard someone yell “Cheese!”…. my middle school nickname. Without a thought, I yelled back, “Tweet!” Only one person out of my class of 133 students still calls me that, so it was a safe bet. Turning around, Tweet was already making his way to my truck. “You will always be “Cheese,” and I will always be “Tweet,” he said through a giggle or two. Fifty years after taking that title, I’d say he’s right.
That’s the beauty of a small town. We are always remembered, known for our past and our present. It’s often that rich history that helps inspire us to strive for a better future. Tweet is a delightful fellow whose smile is the only thing big enough to hide the ever-present twinkle in his eyes. I knew that fifty years ago.
Even longer back, before I was born, the Lord knew me. I was in his mind before His hands knit me together. Though He knew I would be a flawed mess, He planned to give me a new name, a new identity and a rich history in His royal bloodline. He knew things would go wrong here, lots of things. They always do. Yet, all of those things will pass into obscurity, never to have sway over me again. My real life is hidden with Christ.
I know, I don’t always act like it, but that’s because I sometimes respond to earthly matters in earthly ways, like 11 year-old Cheese taught me. His best lessons left me starving for wisdom. Sometimes, I only allow myself to relate to what the world has taught me, and I neglect the Spirit of wisdom and knowledge Who gave me a new name and life. He is always present, always familiar with what I’m facing, always prepared.
Learning to wait on His inner presence to chart my course is a life-long process that will never be fully completed because it’s war telling the little boy inside to hush while the King presides over His new, incorruptible creation. The Cheese kid is afraid of becoming irrelevant, while the King says he already is. In Christ, I am a new creation. Old things have passed away. All things have become new. (2 Cor. 5:17)
Just like this dear community gives us decades of roots to draw from and gives us identity, God planned before time to recreate us in His image, providing new, eternal roots and giving new identities that make our earthly reflections pale in comparison.
I love my family roots, and I enjoyed my middle-school days of folly, but Cheese has to exit the building for me to live successfully. I must decrease. He must increase. That’s the plan. What nickname or identity do you hold on to that limits your forward progress towards the new creation you are meant to be? Make that little boy or girl hush. The King is talking, and He’s calling you by your new name.