I have a lot of names. I’m not schizophrenic or even slightly confused. Different people call me different names. My Dad started the nickname Chel Bel, which is sometimes translated to Chelly Belly (not quite sure how I feel about that last one…) To my Mom, I’m Chelsea Marie (because my middle name reminds her of my granny, one of the most precious women to walk the face of the planet). To my middle school math teacher, I’m ChelOcean (get it…instead of “sea”?) To friends, it’s shortened to Chels. To the person who meets me on the street, I’m Chelsea. People call me different names, based on our relationship and past experiences.
When I hear from Jesus, especially these past few years, it’s often in combination with a short, but powerful name: “My Girl.” *queue The Temptations*
When He wants to reassure me: I’ve got you, My Girl.
When I feel I’ve failed Him: My Girl, my love for you is unfailing.
When I don’t want to talk to Him: My Girl (a gentle beckoning).
It reminds me of a Kim Walker song from a few years ago:
Words can never say,
The way He says my name,
He calls me lovely,
No one ever sees,
The way He looks at me,
He sees me holy,
Words can never hold,
This love that burns my soul,
Heaven holds me….
There’s just this thing that happens inside of me when I hear Him call me His. I belong to the Savior King who keeps the world spinning! Not only do I belong to Him, He makes it a point to remind me multiple times in a day that He loves me like crazy. I am His.
But more than His, I am His Girl. I love that He sees me as a child. I’ve had a hard time trusting Him lately. I doubt His sufficiency, not consciously in my mind, but in my actions. I strive and I push and I press to achieve and to be, yet He wants me to rest in Him.
I, like that wide-eyed, wonder-filled 5-year-old, want to run on the playground and build sand castles and have a sleepover with friends. I don’t want to rest, but rest is where I find my energy to enjoy life (play) as God designed.
My mind wanders to babysitting in high school. I loved playing board games with the kids and drawing portraits with sidewalk chalk in the driveway. I loved those things, especially the way it made them smile. But what I loved most was reading a book to them at the end of a long day. “Can we read just one more?” And with that one, I could hear their breath get heavy and their eyes flutter to sleep. They turned kind of limp, and simply rested. There was a deep satisfaction in my soul. All was well.
I could live there.
I wonder if God feels the same way. It’s as if those moments when we seek Him in prayer, we’re the kid curled up next to Him. He’s telling us Bible stories (He’s gotta have the best reading voice.). Our muscles loosen, our breathing pattern slows, and we snuggle close.
Secure in His sweet peace.
He strokes my hair gently, smiling as He tucks a stray piece behind my ear. My Girl, you don’t know the thoughts I think about you. They outnumber the sand on the seashore (Psalm 139). Oh, I love you so.
It’s a little before nine in the morning, but tonight I’ll head back to bed. I’ll rest in Him, and tomorrow when I wake again, I pray my spiritual position remains the same: as close as I can get to my Maker, where I can hear the rhythm of His heart and be held in perfect peace.
He has a name and a place just for you, too. Have you heard Him lately?
Maybe you need to take some time today and ask Him your name. Are you “Beloved,” “Friend,” “Daughter,” or “Love”? What does He call you?
He really wants to talk with you. He loves you. So, sit still a sec and wait on Him. I promise it’s worth it.