What's Your Name?

"My name is Nate," he responded after I asked him one of the most basic questions in human reaction. His name, his identity, and probably one of the only aspects of his life that has remained constant. I do not know much about his story, but I do know that his name is Nate--and not many people even know that much. 

As I wondered through the streets of San Francisco, a middle-aged man approached our group asking for change so he could survive the night, find some food, or even a place to sleep for the night. I could honestly look him in the eye and tell him I had nothing to give, something I'm sure he is used to hearing. But what came out of my mouth next shocked him as much as his response shocked me. 

"What's your name?," I asked--a basic question I have known how to start conversations with since I was a child. 

"My name is Nate," he muttered. "You know something," he continued, "that is the first time someone other than the officials has asked me my name in a really long time." 

My heart dropped. No one has bothered to ask him his name. Now, I know it is easy to brush this under the rug of skepticism and say he was just trying to guilt me into giving him money. But I honestly do not believe that is the case as I looked into his lonely eyes. So, you will just have to take my word on this one. In that moment, I saw the effects of depravity. I felt the result of the Fall as I shook a man's hand who has not received positive attention in quite some time. Hopelessness became reality as I interacted with a man who truly believed he was absolutely worthless. 

His name. His identity. His humanity. All have been stripped from him. 

This is a hard story for me to write for a number of reasons. One, my heart still hurts as I replay that moment in my mind. Two, I know how easy it is to not care. I have been there (and I still go there more often than I'd desire). I know what it is like to pass off the burdens of others and the problems of society for my own schedule's sake. Three, I do not want to tell my story, but I cannot accurately tell someone's story, especially when I don't know it. I wish Nate could tell us his story, and I wish we could give him the time of day long enough to listen. 

I don't know what life threw at him, what choices he made, or what forced him into a life of living on the streets. What I do know, however, is that where he lays his head does not change who his Creator is or how much he is loved by the God of the Universe. I just wish he truly knew that. 

Nate. The son of a God who is passionately in love with him. A man who was knit together in his mother's womb. Someone with eternal value and worth in the eyes of the King of Kings. One whom Jesus died and rose again for in order to be near him forever. 

What if we began to see people more clearly for who they really are through the only set of eyes that really matter? What if we threw off cultural stigmas to love people no matter what? What would happen if we took more time to simply ask someone their name and remind them of their humanity? 

I told Nate it was a real shame that no one has bothered to ask him his name. He responded by saying, "I'm not important." By some people's standards he was right. But by the standards laid out in God's very Word, he was far off. And what breaks my heart is that he does not believe that. 

I believe there is a God who is crazy in love with each of His kids and He wants them to know that. I believe that we need to see others through the lens of our Savior. And I also believe that Nate can show us all about the value of our humanity and identity. No one deserves to have their humanity stripped from them, not when the one who gave it to them pursues them as relentlessly as He does! 

Any time you see anyone, remember that the love God has for you applies to them as well. And then love them as He does!