I was named for two aunts. My mother’s sister was Barbara Ann, and my father’s youngest sister was Lora Lee. So I became Barbara Lee. I supposed I could have ended up with Lora Ann, or a name from another aunt, Faye Elisabeth, whose name was the same as my grandmother’s.
From time to time as I grew up, interest arose in name meanings. My friends were always tickled to discover that my first name, Barbara, means “stranger.” I’d hear good-natured comments the speakers thought were witty, like, “Yeah, you’re the strangest friend I have.”
When I was taking a class in some New Testament epistles in college, the teacher said something like, “I don’t know if we have any Barbaras in here . . . ” (at which point everyone who knew me looked at me), “but the name Barbara comes from the word barbarian.” He said “barbarian” arose from how Greeks described foreigners, whose language sounded like “bar bar” to them.
I loved my aunts and didn’t mind my name. I don’t think my parents had name meanings in mind when they named me. But after I became a Christian I was encouraged to discover the concept of being a stranger in the Bible.
In Ephesians 2, Paul writes that we were “strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he himself is our peace . . .” Through the cross, He reconciled us to Himself, so when we believe on Jesus Christ, we “are no longer strangers and aliens.” The Getty’s hymn, “Jesus, Joy of the Highest Heaven,” puts it this way:
Jesus, laid in a lowly manger,
Facing a world of dangers,
Come to turn me a stranger
Into a child of God.
Isaac Watts’ hymn, “My Shepherd Will Supply My Need,” captures this beautifully in the last stanza.
The sure provisions of my God
Attend me all my days;
O may Thy house be mine abode,
And all my work be praise!
There would I find a settled rest,
While others go and come;
No more a stranger, nor a guest,
But like a child at home.
When we were at home in a world that doesn’t know God, we were strangers to Him. But once we became His children, then we also became strangers to the world. Hebrews 11 says the people listed there “all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth” (verse 13). This world is not the ultimate home of believers. We seek to do good and enjoy God’s gifts and shine as lights for Him here, but ultimately, we “desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one” (verse 16). C. S. Lewis put it this way in The Problem of Pain: “Our Father refreshes us on the journey with some pleasant inns, but will not encourage us to mistake them for home.”
As strangers here, 1 Peter 2:11 urges us “to abstain from the passions of the flesh, which wage war against your soul.” This urging follows the verses that say believers are “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.” Because we have become God’s people through faith, we live and act differently from what we used to.
Deuteronomy 10:18-19 really elevated my name in my eyes: “He executes justice for the fatherless and the widow, and loves the sojourner [stranger], giving him food and clothing. Love the sojourner [stranger], therefore, for you were sojourners in the land of Egypt.”
In Bible times, name meanings were special. People were given names according to character traits they either had, or that parents hoped they would have.
God often changed a person’s name in the Bible after a significant encounter with God. Thus Abram (“exalted father”) became Abraham (“father of many nations”). Jacob (“planter or deceiver”) became Israel (“prince with God”). Simon (“hearing”) became Peter (“rock”).
Revelation 2:17 contains an interesting situation: “To the one who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, with a new name written on the stone that no one knows except the one who receives it.”
This is the only place where such a white stone is mentioned in the Bible. Some sources say ancient jurors cast white stones for a “not guilty” verdict or a black stone for “guilty.”
Some say the stone hearkens back to the breastplate the high priest wore which contains twelve jewels with the twelve tribes of Israel inscribed upon them. The high priest brought the names of the tribes before God as he ministered. So Jesus bears our names before the Father.
GotQuestions.org poses this as the best theory:
The best theory regarding the meaning of the white stone probably has to do with the ancient Roman custom of awarding white stones to the victors of athletic games. The winner of a contest was awarded a white stone with his name inscribed on it. This served as his “ticket” to a special awards banquet. According to this view, Jesus promises the overcomers entrance to the eternal victory celebration in heaven. The “new name” most likely refers to the Holy Spirit’s work of conforming believers to the holiness of Christ.
Jesus said of a good shepherd “The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out’ (John 10:3). Then He said, “I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me” (verse 14).
Imagine–the God of the universe, who made and knows millions (billions? trillions?) of people, knows our name. Those who know Him will receive a new name in heaven known only between Him and them.
I don’t know what my new name will be. But I am immeasurably thankful to be known and loved by God.
He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out (John 10:3).
(I often link up with some of these bloggers.)
Stray Thoughts 