People were made to be known.

Human beings possess a deep, innate desire to be known, which is intimately linked with our longing to be loved. I’ll confess, one of my greatest fears in life is to be alone. Not that I don’t have people around me who care about me – I do. But there is no one person in my life who knows every facet of my heart. Well, there is someone who does, I just don’t think I’d describe him as a “person.” As a small child, I learned that God loves me and as an adult, I am finally beginning to understand what that means. And yet that fear, that longing in me isn’t quite satisfied. God sometimes seems so far away from the small, everyday-ness of my life. On top of that, confusion and shame at that fear sometimes haunt me – am I doubting what I profess to believe?

I know that every person who has walked the earth was made in the image of God on High. We are desperately important to him. Why else would the Son of God die for us? God wants our fellowship. He made us to be loved, and not just by each other. God formed each of us individually, by hand, so that he could cherish us. He deems us worthy. Deserving? No way. But still worth the highest price in the land. I think sometimes I consider Christ’s sacrifice as some kind of blanket redemption, meaning that it wasn’t intentionally done for each of us, personally. It is hard for me to think of Christ’s sacrifice as “customized” for every individual that lived, lives, and will ever live. And yet, in the parable of the lost sheep, Jesus speaks of the rescue and redemption of one sheep, an individual soul. If God has redeemed me, then, as a single, unique person, he must know me.

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So why does a voice in my heart still silently cry, I’m here, I’m here, please see me!? I think where I get tripped up is thinking things like, Sure God knows my character and strengths and certainly my sin and weaknesses, but what about my sense of humor? What about how carried away I get by young adult fantasy novels? What about how I sing in the shower and always put the silverware in the dishwasher in exactly the same way?

God tells us in the book of Revelation that, at the end of days, we who persevere will be given a white stone engraved with a new name meant only for us. This promise has called to me since before I was even a true believer, because the intimacy involved is captivating to someone who often feels very alone. The name on that stone is so significant because in the Bible, names mean something. Abram became Abraham and Sarai became Sarah to seal God’s covenant with the Hebrew nation and the world. Jacob wrestled with God, hanging on until God declared him Israel – thereby naming his chosen people. And Jesus in the flesh named Simon Petros, the rock on which his church would be built.

From all this I know that on that day when every believer stands before God, the name he gives us will reveal our entire self, distilled by God into words. It will show us and all of heaven that the Lord of Hosts knows us personally, intimately. Even though I know all of this is true, the fear of never being truly known remains lodged in my heart.  I think my problem is that I tend to believe that the only part of me that God cares about and will carry to heaven is the “spiritual” part. You know, the part that worships God and rejoices in his Word and tries really hard to love people. So, what of the quirky, seemingly insignificant parts of my personality that are neither evil nor “spiritual”? My mind, of course, knows that God is omniscient and thus sees all of the odd human ways I express my joy in this world. Does he care that my favorite books have dragons and castles in them? Or that I enjoy nearly every genre of music? What about the fact that I talk to the TV?

I don’t know what I will be like in heaven. I don’t know what is written on my white stone. But I wonder why God would make every human being, from Eve to Abraham to David to me with a unique personality and odd little eccentricities, if they weren’t somehow linked to our souls. I don’t have an answer.

For now, I remember 1 John 1:5; God is light and his Spirit within me illuminates even the darkest corners of my heart. I think there’s more than a chance that the light of God’s presence doesn’t just see or care about the things that religion has taught us are important. Maybe God cherishes the quirks, too. And if that’s not the case, I wonder whether a whole bunch of us are going to have really boring names in heaven.