This year we’re collaborating with writers across the Augustine Collective, a network of student-led Christian journals, to bring you a series of short devotional articles during this season of Lent, the 40-day period prior to Easter. Find this series also published by Cornell’s Claritas and UC Berkeley’s TAUG.

I often hear that parents use the full legal names of their children when they’re upset—an indication that something is wrong. For me, it is always just my first name. Rather than calling me by my xiaoming (a name used by close family in endearment) or any other nicknames, my mother just says “Hannah” when she has something serious to tell me. Depending on the situation, she calls me differently. I can’t speak for everyone, but I think it is safe to say that parents aren’t the only ones who do this. Whether it’s in spite, in playful banter, or to please others, people tend to—intentionally or unintentionally—change how they address someone. 

Lord. God. Abba. Father. 

When we call on God, do we have hidden intentions? Do we call on Him out of anger? Do we call on Him when we want something? When we get frustrated or impatient with Him, do we address Him differently? When we struggle unfairly, do we approach Him with the same humility as we do when things are going well?

In Genesis 17, God renames Abram and Sarai to Abraham and Sarah, respectively, as He establishes His covenant with them. Abraham goes from “father” to “father of many” and Sarah is renamed for her position as the “mother of nations” [1]. God renames Abraham and Sarah as an indication of His great promises and plans for them. As they enter into new roles, the two are permanently renamed. 

Similarly, God also changes Jacob’s name to Israel in Genesis 32 and again in Genesis 35. The name Jacob means “he seizes the heel,” a Hebrew idiom for someone who deceives. Jacob certainly lived up to this, deceiving his nearly blind father into blessing him and taking matters into his own hands rather than waiting on God’s plan. However, after Jacob wrestles with God and has his hip dislocated, he shifts from a persistent reliance on his own strength to a desperate desire for God’s blessing. Jacob’s new name, Israel, symbolizes his struggle with God, the promise of God’s nation, and his new life depending on God. 

God gives us names, too. We enter His kingdom and His family when we are reborn and given new life by faith in Jesus Christ alone, and we are renamed His Sons and Daughters. I may be a college student, a writer, an athlete, an intern, or an artist, but first and foremost, I am His daughter. We are His children. “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are” [2]. The inexplicably immense love God has for His children and the way He calls us is independent of our achievements, our mistakes, our imperfections, what we have to offer Him—and nothing can change that. He renames us forever as His. 

Hannah is a sophomore at Cornell University studying astronomy.

[1] Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16 (NIV)

[2] 1 John 3:1 (ESV)


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