2nd Opinion: The power of knowing your name

At my dialysis center, a variety of professionals "work the treatment floor." Some are registered nurses, some are licensed professional nurses, some are techs and some have the lowly title of assistant. I call them all my "nurses," even though some of them technically are not nurses. But they all nurse me in my diseased situation, so that is that.

One of them is a woman whose name is Cassandra. People call her Cassie for short. In my days of diminished hearing (I'm not deaf; I just have trouble with discreet sounds.) I misheard her name and thought it was Cathy. I called her Cathy for the better part of six months. She never failed to respond.

When I learned my mistake, I was embarrassed. Names are important, and getting names confused is a cardinal sin to be avoided by anyone, but especially a minister. As soon as I learned my mistake, I called her over to my chair and said: "I owe you an apology. I've been calling you Cathy for months, but I've learned your name is Cassie. I am so sorry for my mistake."

She responded with one of the most luminous examples of self-identity I've ever heard: "That's all right, Mr. Bridges. I know my name." And she said it with a smile as wide as a Kentucky sky.

I was struck by that response's simplicity and its profundity.

It takes someone secure in one's own identity to respond like that. Knowing one's own name—and identity—in spite of all the tags the world hangs on us seems crucial for a happy life. So, I'm wondering if you are as secure in your own identity as is Cassie.

We draw out identities from our place of origin—both our geography and our family. Our names come from them, as well as our consciousness of self and our first view of the world. Remembering from whence we come is an essential clue to knowing ourselves. That is true both positively and negatively. We strive to be both similar to and different from our families of origin.

We draw our identities from those early circles of friendship and neighborhood, too. The whole idea of a "hometown" sets the stage for our progress in life. A hometown is like a starting line in a race. It is important that we embrace where we started.

We draw our identities from there, from work and education and new friends, from failures, from triumphs—it is all like a collage that somehow comes together to produce a whole. The trick here is to not let other people, and especially difficult events, write our identity for us. We live in a world where multiple voices tell us who we are. Don't ever give in and adopt those definitions. Write your own definition of your own life.

And for the man or woman of faith, there comes a time when we turn to our identity as a creature under God. The Bible is chock full of hints and clues to our real identity. A person would be well advised to listen to those old words about the meaning of humanity. Genesis is a good place to start, and the Gospels are a good place to finish. The point is that we should be listening to God's ideas about us, not to our fellow human beings, who are erring, fallible and, sometimes, jealous.

"I know my name," Cassie said.

I'm wondering if you know yours as well as she knows hers, if you claim yours without an apology, and if you are serene about yourself in a world of anxiety. If not, today would be a good day to start getting to know the real you and find the confidence you've been missing. If you've already settled all that, good for you!

Keep your finger on the real you, and breeze through and over what others want you to think. It's just you and the Lord in a moment of a grace-given self-confidence.

Always remember, God thinks the world of you. You are, after all, his child.

—Richard W. Bridges is a retired pastor in Bowling Green, Ky.