I was a bit early to church this morning. Sleep eluded me, and while I could have attended the early service, I would have missed some newly-minted friends who usually attend the middle one.
I arrived early to the second service on account of my sleeplessness and amused myself some at looking at the Bibles they have for the taking. They had a couple pocket-sized New Testaments, and I pulled one off the shelf.
It had a bookmark in it, an empty cross with the words to Job 19.25:
For I know that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth.
This verse has a special significance to me, because it is related to my name.
The three children in my family—my brother, me, and my sister—all have names that start with the letter E. My father's love of classical music met his love for the Lord in Handel's master piece, The Messiah, known mostly for the Hallelujah Chorus.
The Chorus is written in the key of D, music's key of majesty. I suppose it is the usual key designed to give you goosebumps at the movies. After he finished the chorus, Handel started to write based on that same verse from Job that I found on a bookmarked tucked in a Bible.
We understand that Handel could not denigrate the Hallelujah Chorus; it was magnificent. He could not make it less majestic than it was, and he should not have. Yet the resurrection demanded something better, more regal, more triumphant. Handel chose to use the key of E to quote the book of Job. He upped the ante, if you will.
This is how Dad decided that we should all have names that started with E. He didn't stop there. He wanted our names to mean something, too. (I suspect part of the reason we were born further apart was because it took him awhile to plan this.)
My name means, "Who is steadfast like the Lord." I think it is a question, not a statement; but I like to hope he chose the name so that I would grow into it. Dad would often admonish me sternly, "Remember what your name means." It was an injunction he gave to all of us often, normally as we walked out the door to the bus.
This has been a safeguard for me amid so many of life's troubles. The past few weeks have not been pleasant ones, and as I lay awake very early this morning, unable to sleep and wrestling with sorrows, I found no comfort. As soon as I saw the bookmark, I was cast immediately upon the faithfulness—the steadfastness—of our Lord.
It is what I guarded myself with when I left home for a far-away job. And today, it guards me against those sorrows that "like sea-billows roll." He is faithful to us and keeps us always.