nameless

The dream I had nearly a year ago came to the forefront of my mind. In it, the Lord handed me a stone and with His fingers, wrote a new name on my forehead. There was no mirror so I couldn’t read it. Only He knew the name.

At the meeting behind the church, I held a pebble and smoothed in around in my palm. “On this rock I will build My church,” Jesus said to Peter. I zoned out, the discussion muffled by my own thoughts and memories. I remembered all the stones I threw in the river with a prayer written on them, as a means of symbolically surrendering them to God. None of them answered. The pebble was light in the center of my hand, but the weight in my heart extravagant. No one around me could know. They would never understand.

I was a friend without a name. Nothing but a tool from the past, once used, picked up by the Lord, employed, and discarded by the recipient. My purpose was served, I was no longer of use or meaning. My name was all but forgotten. Some of the last words spoken before the severance are imprinted on my heart. They haunt me and come out of nowhere sometimes, exploiting me when I’m down on myself.
“You’re unbuildable. I can’t build a future with you.”

But then, Lord, I thought of what You said to Peter… ‘upon this rock I will build my church.’

Did You not use me to do exactly that? To build. You brought one soul from death to life. You added one more priceless and absolutely necessary brick to the lavish building of which You are the Cornerstone. You built hope and a future indeed. Plans to prosper and love, never to harm. All glory is Yours, Almighty Father, forever and ever. Not to us, but to Your name be the glory. What is my name? It does not matter much. If I decrease and You increase, if I was once a river with a name that flowed into a bay… and not just any bay, a bay in which the love and memories were built that showcased who You were to the lost soul now found… and then what began as a river with a name led out into an ocean, the name has been lost, and You are the sea.

I had a name once, and was called by it, but then I lost it to gain You. I am not my own. Now I am nothing more than a past friend, my name erased. I can’t be thanked for being part of the saved one’s story, for I didn’t choose to be used. I only chose the later thing – love without conditions. As my name disappeared from the river, and into the sea, I am swept away by stormy waters, gnashing waves, lightning and thunder, fog and darkness. I miss the tranquil river, when I had a name. Now I am lost beneath the water, nameless, in the fellowship of Your sufferings. King Jesus, is there anything worse than being abandoned by the one You love? You whisper back to me a ‘No’ and I remember that You were abandoned by The One You loved most, and that He, Your Father, didn’t want to abandon You, and had all the power in existence to stop You from dying, but allowed it, because that’s how much You love me. You were abandoned so I’d never have to be. You grieved and sorrowed like I do, except what I have experienced is just a minute taste, a mere droplet of that raging sea. It’s nothing in comparison, yet a taste nonetheless, not to be diminished. A weight, a rock, a stone that sinks to the bottom.

I and my family had to, for some reason I will not get answers to or grasp this side of eternity, be cast off and away so the one I love could live and flourish. The cost of being used by You, Lord, is exorbitant. It can be enough to decimate a person, and perhaps that’s the state You can best use them further. A place where they are not their own, bought at a price indeed, and striped of their name. That searing, endless pain of loss is one I never knew possible. But You gave me a new name, and only You can see it. All I know myself to be is a former friend.

Nameless.