“If Jesus were to give you a nickname describing the potential he saw in you, not the person you are but the person you could become, what nickname would you hope he might choose for you? Beautiful? Selfless? Courageous? Bold? Servant? Loving? I’d want him to call me “Faithful,” not because I am a faithful disciple, but because that is what I long to be.”

Rev. Adam Hamilton, “Simon Peter: Flawed but Faithful Disciple”

What name would I want to be called by Christ? This question stands out to me as we enter on a Lenten journey towards Jerusalem. Wednesday’s Ashes are blowing in the wind today, which is quite a good question. What would I want to be a part of my life so inextricably that Jesus might use it to describe me?

The question is an interesting one. I have been called many things over the years by people who maybe should or should not have used such words. My girlfriend tends to label me with words like brave, muscly, beautiful, and lovely. My former partner once told me I was the kind of person only God would love. When I look in the mirror I see the ashes and I have been known to be critical of the person who still has loose skin, is beginning to wrinkle around the eyes, and who has gray hairs when he doesn’t shave them off. Sometimes I think of myself as a gorilla when I think about how I can’t shave my back. Too much information? Well, consider this my addition to the growing evidence that people of all types have things in their lives and that self-image isn’t a gender-based problem. As I have heard it said in a different arena, “Same struggle, different differences.”

I have called myself a lot of things, but Rev. Hamilton isn’t asking what others think of me or what others might label me. He isn’t even asking me what I think of myself. I’m not being asked about who I am in these moments. To put it in terms that make sense in a Lenten fashion, what kind of name would I want to have encompass the nature of my being when the ashes have cleared away and the person I am being made into remains?

As I think about today and the fact that we come to God confessing not only our sins, but our flaws, our needs, and our shortcomings, I cannot help but confess that the name I would want falls in the realm of what we seek to understand in Ash Wednesday.

For me, the reality of life is that we are constantly amid ashes. My life, the lives of others, and even the fate of nations and corporations are ashes. None of this lasts. The most powerful healthcare corporation here today will, one day, crumble to nothing even if they have the power to tell me whether or not my trip to Urgent Care will be covered. As I type through a bandage over a cut that probably needed stitches but heals after treatment with TAO-covered bandages cinched tight with tape, I understand that both the healing fingers and the corporation that takes thousands of dollars from the church to take care of me but won’t cover a trip to the doctor’s office while I’m bleeding will both be ashes in time.

So, what would I want to be called? I don’t need to be a rock like Peter as even the strongest rocks can be worn down with the water and waves of life. I don’t need to know that I am the most beloved disciple, as that is John’s name and I honestly don’t believe that I need to vie for my place in the rost of things. I would be remembered, known, or seen. I would be called by the very name that stands diametrically opposed to being seen as a source of child support who is tolerated to have a role in the lives of his children beyond being a source of passive income. I would have Christ tell me that my life matters and that I belong here. Even as I state that all of these things are ashes, I would remember that my ashes are remembered, known, and seen.

Yes, even people with degrees, titles, and even places within the line of apostolic succession struggle to belong in a world that sees people as names and numbers on sheets of paper. I guess we can work on normalizing that reality today too.