Whats in a name?
Apparently my name has no meaning, it comes from greek mythology, meaning the mother of perseus by zeus....or something. Even though my name might not have a super epic meaning (like Michael Timothy), I actually love my name (thanks mom and dad!) and find it really unique and pretty. People put months and months into picking a name for a new child, and it is a big deal.

Names have so much meaning and significance to us. Michael told me that he once heard that our favorite word in the world is our own name. How true is that? We love to hear our name be spoken. I do at least. We want people to remember our name, and are often given a little burst of joy when someone we barely know remembers or knows our name, because somehow we were important enough for remembrance, we were not forgettable. We get frustrated when our name is misspelled or mispronounced (especially repeatedly by the same person), and we want people to say it right, for it sums up our being, its our name for goodness sake.

I want people to remember my name as something good, as a name that when friends hear it, they think, Danae! I know her... she is a great person. I want people to know me as someone who cares, who is a good listener, as someone who is honest, and loyal. I want people to think of me as someone who is creative, beautiful, hard working, and full of love. I want people to think of me in lots of ways, and don't we all? Don't we all want to be thought well of, to be liked and admired by our friends and loves?

To think that the creator of the universe knows my name. Why he would care about me of all people is a wonder, and why he would care to know even the number of hairs on my head is a mystery, but he says he knew me before I was born, and before even the beginning of time. He thinks of me in all the ways I want to be thought of, and his opinion does not change because of my mistakes or failures. He knows my heart, not just the outer shell, and judges by that. What a relief to know that I am known, fully and wholly by the only one whose opinion really matters, and he thinks highly of me. As my dad often tells me, Jesus is quite fond of me.

And if we are all adored by Jesus, then why do we not appreciate each other, and His craftsmanship in one another? Why do we not admire people for their strengths and passions?  Why do I not look past faults and see His beauty? Oh what wretched people we are, but thanks be to God who has saved us through Jesus' blood. What assurance we can rest in. He died for us, He knows us, and He calls us by name to himself, so won't we run to Him.

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