Once a week, I volunteer at London’s school, and Laredo goes along with me to play with the kids her age. I remember the first day we went, when Laredo first met the kids. London saw her, and immediately ran over to her, greeting her with a HUGE hug. It was so sweet, and thus very memorable. So each week, as I work in the school’s donation center—cleaning, folding clothes, straightening shelves—I listen as the two girls play, together and with their other friends.
Then one day, about a month ago, I greeted London with a simple, “Hi London, how are you?” Well, her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened, and she exclaimed, “She knows my name! She knows my name!” You’d have thought I was famous. Mind you, I volunteer in my mismatched, most comfortable, but least trendy clothes; I usually haven’t had a shower; besides which, I am a nearing-40-year old, slightly out-of-shape, mother of two. I’m not cool—not even close. But to London, the fact that I knew her name made her day. It was flattering, but also a bit convicting.
It was convicting because the God of the universe knows each of us by name. In John 10:2-4, Jesus states that “the one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.” And again, in John 10:14, Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me…” Our names are graven on His hands, and written on His heart. But how often do we really stand in awe of that fact? Do we really even grasp it? I know I don’t…at least not the way London would. But I want to, don’t you?