He Knows Your Name

When I was in my last semester of college at Pitt-Greensburg in the spring of 1997, I had the Sweetest.  Schedule.  Ever.  

All I had left for that lest semester were 12 credits of really easy classes (for me, anyway) – 2 mid level psychology classes, an entry level political science class and one mid level communications class.  It was a much welcome break after 3 ½ years of biology, chemistry, calculus and physics. 

What made it even sweeter was how my classes were scheduled.  During the day on Tuesday and Thursday I had 3 classes, with about 2 hours between each one, and a 3 hour Thursday evening class.  And my favorite fishing lake at the time was just 10 minutes from campus!  I fished pretty much every day that semester. 

But one day, after my fishing adventures, I was in a hurry.  I had 3 trout on a stringer that I wrapped in a couple of plastic bags and threw in the trunk of my ’87 Chevy Caprice.  I forgot about them.  For about 4 days.  And it got pretty warm throughout the course of those 4 days. 

One morning I went to get in my car to drive to class (I lived at home and commuted about 15 miles to school).  It was all I could do not to projectile vomit when the stench of rotting fish hit me.  I knew right away what the stench was from and it was no fun cleaning up that mess and trying to get the funky stench out of my car.

Things that have been dead for any length of time stink.  Bad.  And they repulse most people. 

But not Jesus. 

In the story of Lazarus in John 11 (and again let me encourage you to grab a copy of the Lazarus Life by Stephen Smith – it’s shaped and influenced many of the thoughts I’m sharing this week.) by the time Jesus finally shows up, Lazarus’ sister Martha responds to Jesus command to roll away the stone at the entrance of the tomb by saying in v.39, “But Lord . . . by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there for four days.” 

The stench of death didn’t repulse Jesus.  His love for Lazarus, and for the friends and family of Lazarus, was unstoppable. 

As we internalize the voices in our lives – the ones that say, “You’re worthless; you’re hopeless; you’re ugly; you’re unlovable; you’re not good enough” – and begin to believe what Henri Nouwen (in Life of the Beloved) calls the lie of self-rejection, we die on the inside.  The carnage in our hearts and minds is huge.  The stench can be terrible.  Like Martha, we begin to believe that there’s nothing that Jesus could do in our situation.  Even if he could, why would he want to?  If our mess is so repulsive to ourselves and others, surely it’s repulsive to Jesus right?

I hope you can find the courage and faith to believe that it’s not.  The same love that drove him to the tomb of Lazarus is the same love that drove him to the cross.  The love that drove him to the cross is the same love that pursues us and calls us out of the tomb and to new life. 

“. . . Jesus called in a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’” (v.43)

In The Lazarus Life, Stephen Smith captures this beautifully in helping us understand that in the story of Lazarus, the Voice of Love gets personal.  Just as Jesus called Lazarus by name from death to new life, so he calls us by name. 

He calls us out of the lies of self-rejection and into the truth of his love for us.  The truth that tells us we can be forgiven for our past sins.  The truth that tells us we are precious and valuable and have significance to him.  The truth that tells us that our hearts and minds can be healed from the carnage of these lies.  The truth that tells us we can be made new and made whole. 

Psalm 139:13-17 is a beautiful reminder that God knows everything about our lives and still chooses to love us.   Not only has God made us, he made us with special care and precision.  Wonderfully.  Marvelously.  Breathtakingly.  Beautiful, inside and out.  God knows all of the things that will happen in our lives – the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly – and his thoughts of love about us are rare, beautiful and incomprehensible. 

You’ll remember from yesterday’s post that Jesus mourns and cries over our hurt and pain.  It’s no wonder – He has made us for so much more!  He’s made us for love and He’s made us for significance. 

Take some time today to ponder how Jesus is calling your name, and calling you to new life.  He’s not calling with condemnation and judgment.  He’s calling you and I by name, in love and with the desire to give us new life.