A White Stone for a Dark Lake

“I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.” – Revelation 2:17

Names. What is the significance? My name means "dark lake." It seems that this counters my cheery and jocund nature. Why wasn't I named "bright sea" like my sister, Morgan? It seems as though God might know a little bit more than my parents...who would have guessed? Take a look at what happens over and over in scripture.

"The women will call me happy." So she named him Asher. (Genesis 30:13)
"I have borne him six sons." So she named him Zebulun. (Genesis 30:20)
She named him Reuben, saying, "It is because the LORD has seen my misery." (Genesis 29:32)

I was recently challenged to "live into my name." This thoroughly intrigued me, because I know that my parents did not sit in the hospital saying, "We have been to the dark lake...her name shall be Lindsay." But somehow, my name, which means "dark lake," speaks clearly to my identity. Unlike the planned names in the Old Testament, no divine inspiration was given to my parents that they should name me Lindsay.

Just this past week I received news that I will be going to Uganda, East Africa for five months this fall. I have felt undoubtedly called to go there for so many years, and now it is finally my time.Oh, Africa. Such colorful culture and beautiful people, who are sadly recovering from the terrible darkness of genocide and influence of radical Islam. I do not wish to jump to conclusions, but...oh, wait. Is it possible that Africa's beautiful people and terrible oppression has anything to do with the "dark" part of my name? I think yes. Oh, Uganda. The pearl of Africa, settled right on Lake Victoria. Where? Oh...Lake Victoria. How ironic...

On a different note, my parents actually almost named me Ruby, and I have always been a little bit sad they did not. Ruby. What a great name. I love that name. It means "precious stone." Ruby, precious stone. How great is that? I want that name.

Regardless of how much you do or do not love your name, or to what extent you have begun to "live" your name's meaning, it is an undeniable truth that names, and nicknames, are special. Being named Lindsay, it is only natural for almost everyone I meet to immediately call me "Linds." Be that what it may, my preferred nickname is simply "Lin." I am only called this by my immediate family members and my closest friends. I might even let my husband call me that someday. It is personal. Unique.

What most people do not know is that God has a sweet, intimate, and secret name for each of us. And as Revelation 2:17 says, God will give everyone a stone with a new name on it, a secret between each person and God. "For no one but God sees what the man is...it is only when the man becomes his name that God gives him the stone with his name upon it, for then first can he understand what his name signifies...such a name cannot be given until the man is the name." -George MacDonald

Live into your name. If not the one your parents gave you, then the one God is giving you. There is an intimate secret to be discovered between you and God. I look forward to someday receiving my white rock, my personal "precious stone..."

Maybe, just maybe, I'll get to be called Ruby after all.

A Beautiful Disagreement

When it snows,you have two choices: shovel or make snow angels.

To give credit where credit is due, my family is pretty artistic.

One of my grandmothers is a seamstress who also paints and makes porcelain dolls.
My other grandmother writes comedic stories and reads them dramatically.
My father grew up singing and is an aficionado of antiques.
My mother scrapbooks,taught me piano, and sang on the radio with my father.
My older sister plays three instruments and is a beautiful operatic soloist.
I play the violin, perform theatrically, make crafts, and am a bit of a culinary artist.

All of that is to say that my younger sister has the keenest of eyes for naturally beautiful opportunities that make for splendid photographs. The photograph shown is one that she has called "Find the Simple Things in Life." First of all, the title itself is intriguing, not suggesting that life is simple, but rather that simplicity can be found...and finding it is so much more enjoyable than if simplicity was just normal. I doubt she put that much thought into it, but it is great nonetheless.

Take a look at her picture. About a half of a second after looking at the photo, you will see the snowy smile that the wind has blown onto the old brick wall. But at first glance, all that this photo is made up of is

snow and bricks,
white and red,
soft and rigid.

Snow. White, wet, soft, silent, pure, fresh snow.
Bricks. Red, solid, imposing, unwavering, old bricks.

The snow falls fresh each time, and coats the earth with something new; snow unifies the world by making it seem that the whole world is made of one substance. Its whitness whispers of purity and serenity, the result of being made clean and new. Snow can be formed, shaped, played in, and caught on the tongue.

Maybe the bricks are a fortress, a boundary, a guard that we have put up to protect ourselves from the elements. Maybe their color symbolizes trouble, pain, and calamity...wearing the old bricks down little by little. The bricks exist for function, not fashion, and have existed so for years.

On the day the wind blew the pure snow onto the dirty wall, a beautiful disagreement was formed. The new befriended the old, the silent conversed with the imposing, the ever-changing changed the changeless.

And together, they smiled.