When I was in 8th grade and trying desperately to
look cool and fit in with the crowd, I purchase a pair of yellow sneakers. I
thought they were pretty cool but the truth was - I wasn’t. I was shy, nerdy,
wore thick glasses and in band. Some kids tried to cheat off my tests and I
tried to cover up my high marks when someone asked. My tiny Iowa school had
grades 7-12 in the same building, and I lived in fear of the juniors and
seniors, especially the popular ones. You can imagine my horror when, one day
while wearing those yellow shoes, a junior named Jason Katcher noticed them and
started calling me yellow shoe girl. This was not exactly the attention I had
hoped for. His buddies started laughing. Over the next year, I would
occasionally hear that taunt as I walked by, “Yellow shoe girl!” Now there is
flirty teasing and there is mean teasing. This always felt like the latter and
definitely not the former. I had been named and the name stuck.
Anyone who has ever survived middle school is very familiar
with the name game. You get named. Other kids decide who you are and call you
by those names. Jock. Nerd. Popular. Pretty. Band geek. Stoner. Loser. There
are lots of other ones that I don’t want to repeat here. You know them. Chances
are pretty good that you were called a name and/or you called someone else a
name when you were young. Sometimes those names stick. We call it bullying now,
but just because we name it doesn’t make it hurt less.
Most of us have passed safely out of middle school, but
names still stick. We put them on ourselves or others apply them. Music, media
and magazines tell us what we should be. We should be sophisticated and cool.
We should be muscled and uber-skinny. We should be the perfect parent and
spouse. We should be able to juggle it all and have it all. The world around us
offers all kinds of names and sometimes, they stick.
That’s one of the reasons we come to church, Sundays and
Wednesdays. We need to get those names and labels washed off of us. We come
here to remember who we are. We come here to remember our true name: Child of
God.
At baptism we are marked with the sign of the cross. We get
our name. We hear that we are called by name in the passage from Isaiah 43. “Do
not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers,
they shall not overcome you.” These words may as well be said at the baptism
font, for this is what happens. God names us, claims us and calls us.
We’ve talked a lot about vocation at Central over the past
year. You have heard this before but I’ll say it again: When we get our name at
baptism – Child of God – we are sent out into the world to live our vocation, which
is to love God and help others. Because God has a mission to love and save the
whole world, we have a purpose. When we
know and celebrate our true name, our true identity, we’re freed to spend our
days loving God and serving others. And you never know how God will use you,
not just your accomplishments but also your broken places.
About 15 years after the yellow shoe girl incident, while I
was in seminary, I was asked to volunteer for the ELCA National Youth Gathering
in Atlanta. I was part of the evening dome team, which put together the evening
worship services held in the Georgia Dome each night. I spent time moving
equipment around, setting up chairs, helping with hospitality for the bands and
other menial duties. I also got to speak at the evening worship event. The
leaders were looking for a few people to do 2-minute “spots” about faith and
life. I was asked to do one of the speeches and I used the yellow shoe girl
story. They put me in makeup and gave me a microphone and I stood there for 2
minutes in front of 25,000 people and talked about how even though people give
us names, the name we get in baptism is the most important name of all. No one
can take it away from us. And our true name that we get in baptism empowers us
to love God and serve others.
I didn’t know it until later, but in the audience was my old
pastor, from my high school days, who was the first to encourage me to go to
seminary. The next year, he preached at my ordination and gave me these yellow
shoes. Every time I wear them, I remember that no matter what other names seem
to stick, nothing can replace our true identity. When we know our true name,
there is only one way to respond: love God and serve others. Amen.
