Dawn’s rosy tipped fingers greeted me upon waking with soft pink light setting the wide white blinds of my bedroom windows aglow. It perked me up immediately, eager to twist the wand and peer out upon cotton candy clouds sweeping across the sky from behind the wooded hills which ensconce our neighborhood. Such a gift of delight, like a kiss on the cheek.
After a quick trip to the kitchen for a large mug filled with dark roast, I returned to my old bedroom armchair and began my morning ritual of copying a scripture suggestion to begin journaling, this time 2 Corinthians 1:3-4:
Blessed be God the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble by the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.
The message was clear as the morning sunrise and just as beautiful: Comfort. I felt almost as if Paul saw the pastel light too through his jail cell as he wrote of sweet security in Christ.
Contemplating these words for several days after this luminary moment, I realized Paul was expressing the divine pleasure awaiting those who suffer the darkness of night in the arms of a companion who has already seen and is sure of the morning. Like a child who runs instinctively to his mother’s embrace when afraid of midnight imaginations, we are called to both receive and offer the very affection of God to comfort those in distress.
I’ve heard it said that the local church should be a hospital, but often acts more like a country club. Pastors should care for their congregation like doctors, elders like assisting nurses, etc. And we can see clearly in scripture how Jesus commissioned his followers to become a group that focuses on healing, on recovery from addiction, trauma, and physical, mental, or spiritual abuse in his life-giving name. Obviously, too often we do treat church as if it was based on dues and membership, stimulating gossip of choice opinions and jealous suspicions instead of focusing on the big three: to do justly, love mercy and walk humbly.
We can look around and be disgusted, even walk away, when others fall short of this ideal. Yet, if you watch any hospital show on TV, you know even in hallways filled with patients and pain there is plenty of personal drama for content. Why is this? I propose it is because we are all patients. We are all healing from a condition of fallenness, and all in constant need of medicines and treatments to support our dying state.
Philippians 3:21 makes it clear that we are daily in the middle of “our current lowly bodies… being transformed to the body of Christ’s glory.” In other words, everyone in the hospital of the church, including pastoral doctors and decon nurses as well as the administrative staff, needs patience (pun intended) as we learn how to accept and provide comfort.
But what kind of comfort is Paul talking about exactly? A pat on the back? Wise words? A warm hug?
In the Greek, the word “comfort” used by Paul here all 5 times, comes from the same root - parakale (the noun, parakalesis, and the verb, parakeleo). This is a compound word bringing para, meaning to come near, next to kaleo, meaning to call by name (Strong’s definition). What does someone coming along side speaking your name have to do with comfort in tribulations? At first it seems like a very different idea. Why would it be translated every time comfort, comfort, comfort, comfort, comfort?!
Some claim that one’s own name is the sweetest sounding word. That might be so. For example, picture this:
You wait tensely in a crowded hall before a sporting event or concert. You’ve decided to go by youself because the main attraction is worth it, but you really wish you knew somebody there. It feels, dare I say, uncomfortable to be alone. Suddenly, amid the noisy chatter of various volumes, a single word is clearly heard – your name. Turning round, not sure of where the call comes from, you spot a friend waving hard and like a miracle, you immediately relax walking toward them to meet up. Isn’t connecting with another soul in the swarm such a relief?
We have probably all had the opposite experience of hearing our name called out only to be disappointed when we realize another “Hannah” was the intended audience. Perhaps this is why baby names get odder and odder. We long to be unique! But regardless of where your name lands on the ‘most popular’ list, the point is that hearing your name can be comforting. Our name spoken by another holds the power to rescue, to revive, or at the very least, to acknowledge our presence in any given space. Hearing our name, in fact, can be half the path to wholeness.
“But,” you may argue, “when I hear my name, its mostly spoken a different way.”
True. We frequently speak each other’s names in frustration and anger, in curses and clauses of contempt. Worse still, we speak our names to ourselves full of accusations.
“Hannah, you’re such an idiot sometimes.”
“Hannah, get it together!”
“Hannah, why can’t you figure this out?”
It’s called the inner critic. Mine can be deafening, how’s yours?
Beloved, this should not be. We must be careful how we speak our own name and others because it leads to a much, much worse result… we end up hearing God speak our name through this filter of shame too.
Jesus went to great lengths to teach us otherwise. Specifically, he tells the famous story about a father’s response to a son coming home after making terrible choices which had led to complete demoralization and failure. How does Jesus depict his father, God? “... his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.” (Luke 15:20, KJV) That’s how we should hear our name!
Also, Jesus used personal names in the most profound moments of ministry:
Matthew 16:18 - “Now I say to you that you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church.”
Luke 10:41 – “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things.”
John 11:43 - “Lazarus, come forth.”
John 20:18 - “Mary!” Jesus said. She turned to him and cried out, “Rabboni!”
Indeed,
“He calls his own sheep by name, and leads them out.” John 10:3
Adversely, Jesus’ foe and the enemy of our souls, the devil, has been given the name “accuser.” Even the word “devil” or “diabolos” means prone to slander and accusing. This is quite the opposite, right? How often we confuse his wily voice with God’s though! How often we take his sardonic tone rather than Christ’s sincerity when calling others. But there will be no confusion in the end.
“Now have come the salvation and the power and the kingdom of our God, and the authority of his Messiah. For the accuser of our brothers and sisters, who accuses them before our God day and night, has been hurled down.” (Rev 12:10, NIV)
In conclusion, when someone speaks our name, it means we are known. When someone speaks our name with affection, it means we are loved. When someone we love speaks our name, it means we belong.
Best of all, when God speaks our name it means the One who created all things knows us, loves us, and has brought us into a relationship where we will always belong. This is deep and mysterious and above all, comforting.
Thanks, Hannah! Very well said💕