“Matt Maher said my name.”

…And yes, my husband is rolling his eyes heavenward as I mention it to you.  See, he’s already overheard this trivia, because I just can’t help telling people:  “Matt Maher said my name.”  I say it quietly, with a sense of wonder and a tiny tee-hee of irony; after all, I’m not normally the type to be bowled over by someone famous. It’s got me to thinking:  Why the childlike joy here?

First of all, I know I have a difficult name.  It tends to be misspelled, mispronounced, mixed up, and even mocked. Secondly, after witnessing Matt and his band perform a dead-serious, meticulous pre-concert sound-check, I was well aware that my personal contribution to the room was insignificant.  When I eventually met Matt, we shook hands and talked over a few timing details, then I ducked away to let him get back to work.  A few minutes later, he called me over (By name! Did I tell you?) to ask for help with one more thing.  My tummy swooped a little, and though I kinda hope not, I might have actually skipped over to him, eager to assist this holy man, this good and faithful steward of God’s gifts.

So. How much more will I dance into God’s embrace when He calls me by name on our wedding day?  How great will be my delight when I hear Him say the uniquely personal name that no one before has ever pronounced?  How grateful should I be right now that my name is written on His hand… the same torn and almighty hand that saves me?  With what joy do I daily attend to His voice and skip to do His bidding? Do my knees always bend at the mere mention of His most holy name? And how attentive am I to learning the names of His other children — to learning them, and remembering them, and using them with such tender care that it makes them look toward Heaven?

Matt Maher said my name.

Your Pickle,
Marian Bart
Parish Catechetical Leader

P.S.  See Exodus 20:7; Isaiah 49:16; Philippians 2:10; Revelation 2:17 & 19:7