WHAT'S IN A NAME?

- BY D.R.R. HOMELESS OUTREACH VOLUNTEER CATHERINE WEYERS -

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." –Juliet, Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare

Last Saturday morning, I went down to St. Louis with Dirty Roots Revolution’s homeless outreach. On this particular week, I stationed myself with my friend Andrew making hot cocoa for our homeless brothers and sisters. Although the line is often long and crazy, I try to take the time to learn each man or woman’s name as I stir up their steaming cup of cocoa and place it in their shivering hands. I’m not usually good at remembering the names, but I try, and I’m starting to recognize certain people that we see week after week. Sometimes our friends drink their cup of cocoa and then come back five to ten minutes later sheepishly asking for another cup or a refill. Of course, I happily oblige.

This week, a fairly well-kept middle aged man entered my line for the second time. His name is Forrest. If that is his first name, last name, or nickname, I do not know. As I handed him his second cup of cocoa, I cautioned him, “Be careful, Mr. Forrest. It’s still pretty hot!” He accepted his cocoa and looked at me in disbelief. “You remembered my name?” he asked. “Of course I did, Forrest!” I laughed, “Why would I have asked if I didn’t intend to remember? Besides, it was only a half an hour ago that you introduced yourself to me!” He sat back for a moment and stared beyond the bus stop where we were standing. After a few seconds he spoke, “Well, ma’am. Most people who come down here don’t care about my name. Even the ones that do ask don’t seem to care to remember.” With that statement, my heart broke.

What would it be like to have no one know my name? Even worse, what would it be like to be passed by in the park as though I was the refuse of society? What would it be like to live in fear that if I gave out my true identity, a background check would be run, and I would be further ostracized for my past that I so desperately wanted to separate myself from? That is the life of many of our homeless friends. To many, they are nameless, smelly, unshaven bums. Although this might seem like words that can be used to describe their state, it is not their identity. They have been created by God, and are loved by Him, just as I am. They have made mistakes, and many want to change, like I do. They get hungry and thirsty and cold, just like I do, but much more often. They need the forgiveness and love of a Savior, just as I do. They need to embrace their identity as a Child of God, just as I have.

I would love to hear God say to Forrest as He did to the Isrealites, “But now, thus says the Lord, who created you, O Forrest, and He who formed you, ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; You are mine.” (Catherine Paraphrase Version)

For now, I will not take for granted that God will audibly speak those words to that man. I cannot trust that someone else will say them either. I will go to St. Louis again, and I will look for my new friend. I will call him by name, and I will offer him a cup of hot chocolate. And perhaps, one of these days, I can speak to him the name of Jesus.

“But now, thus says the Lord, who created you, O Jacob, and He who formed you, O Israel: ‘Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; You are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, Nor shall the flame scorch you. For I am the Lord your God, The Holy One of Israel, your Savior; I gave Egypt for your ransom, Ethiopia and Seba in your place. Since you were precious in My sight, You have been honored, And I have loved you; Therefore I will give men for you, And people for your life.’” (Isaiah 43:1-4)