The Sound of a Name
She didn’t know it was him.
Not until he said,
She was looking for Jesus’ body after arriving to find an empty tomb, when Jesus himself asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?” But she didn’t recognize him until he spoke her name.
There is something intimate about someone you love gently speaking your name.
I remember when Corey returned home from climbing a mountain in Africa.
More than the sum of its three syllables, that deep man voice saying my name by the baggage claim sounded like love and felt like a refuge.
Maybe Mary felt something like that when Jesus said her name.
I look forward to the day I meet Jesus face to face and hear the word “Kimberly” come from his mouth. But I have heard his voice speak my name softly, even here on this broken earth.
Lying awake in the dark after a cancer diagnosis, fearing the worst but clinging to my Savior, breaking through all the ugly thoughts I heard my name. Not audibly, but in my heart I could feel it.
And I recognized him. Just like the man he placed at my side 20+ years ago, his voice sounded like love and it felt like a refuge. And it brought peace where I had none.
I won’t pretend to know what was going through Mary’s mind that day 2000 years ago, but I can’t help but think that her name, spoken by her Savior sounded like love and felt like a refuge and gave her peace where she had none.