Friday, July 30, 2010

My Name. His name.

When I meet most people, they assume that I am named after a city on the California coastline that shares my name, but I'm not. Here's the story of my name: (Which I may have told before in greater detail, but I cannot for the life of me remember.)

There is a long tradition of first born girls in my family being named with the first initial C and June as our middle name. My grandmother is Carol June and my mother is Celeste June and as you already know I am Cambria June.

My mother being the unique, artistic woman that she is was always in search for a unique "C" name.

When my parents were dating they went to a little art expo somewhere. There they saw a painting of an artist that they cannot remember. They say it was of a little girl in a field of wildflowers and it was called "Cambria". They decided that if they ever had a girl, that would be her name. They said I came out, they took one look at me and then at each other and said this is our Cambria.

I had a unique name before it was cool and celebs were doing it. What I resented soon became a part of my identity.

Recently my name has begun to become more popular. I've heard of 3 babies in the last few months named Cambria. What I didn't expect was for it to rock my identity. So much of my identity is wrapped up in being unique, original, like my name. My name made me feel like their was no one else like me and I liked that.

As chance, or probably something more would have it, I'm going through a study on the names of God right now by Kay Aruthur. I'm learning about all of God's names. How they represent Him and how we for centuries have tarnished His name. I'm shocked by how commonplace His name, that once was so reverent has become.

I've come to realize something. His name doesn't shape Him. Who He is calls out behind His name and gives it it's meaning. His name is good because He is good. Therefore, my identity is not wrapped up in a name and the child I someday have is not going to be unique or original or wonderful or horrible because of his/her name. Their character will determine the value of their name. It's meaning. It's relevance. It's significance. That's why when people who don't know who Christ is use His name it's often in a derogatory context, because they don't know of whom they are speaking. When I forget who He is His name, His power, isn't evident to me.

Instead of letting my name guide me, I'm going to choose to give meaning to it by working on the person behind it. By building a character that gives it meaning and significance and hope that through that practice, I reflect His name to those who don't know how good it really is.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

42 minutes

It's only been 42 minutes since I've been on vacation and already my mind is more clear. I am more relaxed and I'm connecting more to whichever side of my brain is creative. (I always forget which one does what.)

In these 42 minutes I've come to realize that I love my job. When I'm stressed or close to burnout, I forget just how much. I continue to work hard, but sometimes it becomes more labor than love. I know I love my job because I am already feeling like I'm going to miss it for the next week. I am going to miss calling strangers to talk to them about Jesus. I am going to miss hearing the stories of what random people ask at a church office. (My favorite this week was a guy who left a message on the counseling center voicemail and then when I called him back didn't remember calling me at all and freaked out.) I'm going to miss my cube buddies. I'm going to miss my boss. I'm going to miss watching my amazing volunteers make people feel like they belong at our church.

I feel privileged to get to do what I do. Though I doubt my calling, or rather, my deserving of my calling every day; I know I am exactly, precisely, where God wants me to be.

In case you were wondering Well Church, absence does make the heart grow fonder.