There it is on the page. A small group of letters that solidifies the huge change in my life. In black and white, someone else's eye might brush off the difference as trivial, but it's anything but trivial to me. The divorce is final. I will never again be Rhonda Taylor. That person no longer exists.
It's both liberating and sobering.
I keep saying my maiden name proudly everywhere I go. "What's the name on your order?" they ask me at Papa Johns. "Sanders," I declare. "What's your name?" the new cashier at my pharmacy asks. "Sanders. Rhonda Sanders," I reply as I hand her my new insurance card. I use my credit card instead of cash just to practice signing my name on the receipt; I haven't quite gotten used to my new signature.
But, you know, my last name doesn't matter to God, and I don't care what last name is used in His Book of Life as long as I'm in there!!
It's just a name.
Yet there's one name I find myself saying more than my own lately. I write it in my diary at the end of my day, I sing it with the song coming through my car speakers, I whisper it to myself at my desk when I'm feeling overwhelmed, I speak it to my friends to offer encouragement, I cry it into my pillow when all else fails.
Jesus.
It's not just a name. It's my battle cry to the devil, letting him know that I'm not going to let him defeat me.
Jesus.
It's not just a name. It's my promise of a rainbow after the storm passes, and it's my calm in the midst of the storm.
Jesus.
It's not just a name. It's my everything.
If you don't know the power of Jesus's name, I encourage you to tap into it today. Speak it. Whisper it. Shout it out! Write it on your heart. That name has the power to cast out demons and move mountains. Say it with me today.
Jesus.
It's not just a name.
No comments:
Post a Comment