Bearing the Name

My maiden name is Thompson. I grew up in a small farming community of about 7,500 people in Northwest Ohio — the kind of place where everyone knew everyone, or at least “knew about them.” And I was a daddy’s girl through and through. Even though my dad has been gone for 15 years now, that part of me hasn’t changed. His name meant something to me because he meant something to me. So when I married Jeff, I didn’t change my name right away. It took nearly two years before legally became a Hughes. Why? Because “Thompson” was my daddy’s name. It was a part of me because I was a part of him. That name carried weight.

Names do that. They stir something in us. Say a name like Chick-fil-A, WalMart, Coach, George Washington, or Hitler, and each one triggers a different reaction. Names carry stories, reputations, expectations. They are the first snapshots we see of something.

Shakespeare famously wrote, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Juliet may have believed names didn’t matter, but Scripture tells a different story. Names reveal identity. They speak of character. They tell the world who we belong to. Think of Jacob, renamed Israel — “one who wrestles with God.” Think of Saul, renamed Paul after encountering Jesus on the Damascus Road. Their names changed because their lives changed.

Let’s try one more word association: Christian.

What rose up in you? What would your unbelieving neighbor think? Your coworker? Your teenager? Your server at lunch? Because whether we realize it or not, we bear that name everywhere we go.

The Weight of a Name

In Exodus 20, God gives His people instructions for how to live as those He has already rescued. These aren’t rules to earn freedom — they are the shape of life within freedom.

After establishing that He alone is God and worthy of worship, the next thing He addresses is His name.

“Do not take (Hebrew: nasa — carry, bear) the name of the Lord your God in vain.” (Ex. 20:7) We’ve often reduced this command to “don’t swear,” which makes it far too easy. I don’t swear — check! 

But the Hebrew points to something deeper: Don’t carry God’s name in a worthless way.

The Bible uses this language elsewhere. Aaron “bears the names” of the tribes on his breast piece as he represents them before God. He also wears a plate on his forehead engraved with Holy to the Lord — set apart, distinct.

Israel was called to be a kingdom of priests, representing God to the nations. And Peter tells us the same is true for us:

“You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation…” (1 Peter 2:9)

We bear His name.

What It Means to Carry His Name in Vain

To take God’s name in vain is to carry it in a way that empties it of meaning — to represent Him poorly, casually, or hypocritically.

We do this when we use God rather than fear Him. We do this when our Sunday words don’t match our weekday lives. We do this when we treat His authority lightly, as though His name is a label rather than a calling.

A quote I came across while preparing this struck me deeply:

“The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today is Christians who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle.”

We’ve seen high-profile examples — leaders and influencers whose lives didn’t match the name they carried. But it’s not just “out there.” It’s in the quiet corners of our own lives, too.

Malachi confronted the priests for offering God their leftovers — blind, crippled, unwanted sacrifices. God’s question was piercing:

“If I am your Father and Master, where is the honor and respect I deserve?” (Malachi 1:6)

They praised Him with their lips but withheld true worship. We can do the same.

The Bride Who Forgot to Get Ready

Good Friday is almost here (when I first delivered this message anyway) — the day we remember the suffering of Jesus, the innocent One beaten, mocked, stripped, and crucified. The day hope seemed lost.

But resurrection was coming. And because of that resurrection, Scripture calls us the Bride of Christ.

Imagine a wedding where the bride walks in disheveled — veil crooked, hair undone, dress torn and stained. Imagine the look on the groom’s face as he realizes she didn’t care enough to prepare.

That image is meant to unsettle us.

We have been baptized in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Our identity has changed. Our allegiance has changed. Our life is meant to reflect the One whose name we bear.

We are not Thompson’s or Hughes’s or Miller’s or Gardner’s first. We are Christ’s.

Bearing His Name in a Broken World

Bearing His name is not easy. The world is loud, chaotic, and often hostile. But Jesus — the One who conquered death — left us with a promise:

“I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20)

So we bear His name with honor. With worship. With holiness. With integrity.

Because the world is watching. Because their lives — and Jesus’ reputation — depend on it.