WHAT’S IN A NAME?
It never fails. I step up to the counter and the nice hotel clerk, or bank teller, or fast food cashier says the same words.
“Name, please?”
Simple question. Direct and uncomplicated. Or so they think.
“Christis,” I reply (adding my last name for the hotel or bank, of course).
Here follows the inevitable double-take. “What?”
“Christis.”
“Could you repeat that?”
“Christis.”
“Chrystal?”
“No—”
“Krysten?”
I remind myself that patience is a virtue and reply, “No, Christ-is.”
“Oh. Uh, how do you spell that?”
“C-h-r-i-s-t-i-s.”
“Hmm,” they reply, jotting it down, “that’s really unique.”
I smile. Now comes the best part. “Yeah, my middle name is ‘Joy’; it spells ‘Christ-is-joy’.”
The reactions are priceless. Some smile back and say “That’s really pretty”, some look like they’ve never heard the concept before and fumble, “Oh, well, that’s cool”, while others literally light up from within, their tired faces lifting like a fresh breeze just blew their way. “Wow!” they exclaim, “I love that!”
So do I. But I didn’t always. In fact, there was a time when I wanted to be named Nichole.
Don’t ask me why, but my 8-year-old self just thought “Nichole” was the coolest sounding girl’s name in the world with “Victoria” being a close second. I’d like to say it was because my Mom’s name is Vickie, but, in full honesty, I’d have to admit it was because Don Diego’s crush in the 1990’s Family Channel “Zorro” t.v. show was named Victoria and I wanted to be just like her: spunky and beautiful, brown and petite, riding off with the hero on his magnificent black stallion as my curly, jet- black hair bounced lightly against my shoulders…
(Yeah, that didn’t happen.)
But back to names: “Nichole” was cool; “Victoria” was ideal; “Lila” was feminine but adventurous (also influenced by a favorite heroine); “Kimberly”, “Anastasia”, “Esther”, “Abigail”…
Pretty much anything but “Christis Joy”.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved what it said. I had given my heart to Jesus at age 6 and the idea of telling people about Him was great. But…did I have to do it with my name? Couldn’t I use a tract or something? I mean, I was already “unique” and “special” enough (my parent’s words, not mine): homeschooled practically from birth, tom-boy with a pudgy tummy, and—worst of all—a redhead. Did my name have to be weird—uh, “special” too?
Apparently, for God the answer was “Yes”.
And I’m so glad it was.
Not that it happened overnight. No, I’m sorry to say my appreciation for my parent’s wise though unusual choice didn’t kick in until I had grown a little wiser myself. There were still several years of wishing I could actually change my name just so I wouldn’t have to feel like Charlie Brown in the dreaded Spelling Bee every time I ordered a pizza (who knew “Christ-us” would be so much easier to understand than “Christ-is”?), yet, I gradually began to see the advantages. No one getting you confused with someone else; never having that problem of hearing your name spoken only to turn around at the same time as 5 other people; and, one of the most fun, knowing you’re a shoe-in for those random games where the person with the most unique name wins. Sure, shopping for those little pre-fab magnets in Gatlinburg or a key-chain with my name on it was practically impossible (okay, totally impossible), but knowing I would be the only person in the room with a name that made a sentence about Jesus began to grow on me.
And then I met Mitchell Tolle: author, entrepreneur, inspirational speaker, pastor, and one of the greatest artists to ever wield pencil or paintbrush. “Your name is your trademark,” he told me. “It’s what makes you stand out. Don’t ever change it.”
And so I became “Christis Joy: Author, Writing Consultant, and Story Explorer.” Now I have a novel with my name stamped on it, this snazzy blog, pieces of artwork that have sold for way more than I thought they were worth, and, best of all, an effortless way to tell everyone I meet—Christian, Muslim, Hindu, or Atheist—that Jesus Christ is joy itself. That He invented joy, that He is joy, and that the happiness they’ve longed for, the love and peace and joy they’ve spent their whole life searching for, is found in Him.
All in my name.
So what is “in a name”? According to Shakespeare, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet” and I won’t argue with him on that point (as a writer I’ve found it best not to argue with Shakespeare very much). But I don’t think I would smell as sweet as a “Nichole”, or a “Lila”, or a “Victoria”—no, not even with bouncy black curls. Because, you see, I’m not the one smelling sweet at all. My name isn’t “Me-is-joy”; it’s “Christ-is-joy”.
And no one is sweeter than Jesus.
So, the next time you feel bad about that weird thing (or things) that makes you you—your name, your body shape, your hair color, your family connections, your small-town upbringing, your necessity of going shopping at the Goodwill, your brilliant mind that makes it hard to carry on normal conversation, or even those past failures you’ve asked God’s forgiveness for but aren’t sure can ever be truly healed—just remember what’s in my name. Remember “Christ is joy”. And remember that sometimes the very thing we want so badly to change about ourselves is actually the very thing God will ultimately use for His glory and our good.
Live EPIC,
CHRISTIS JOY
