“What is your name?” (Gen. 32:27).

Murder, burglary, robbery, rape—these were part of his routine. In his life of crime, law meant little, life had no reverence, and love was null and void. His movements were swift; his methods crude. He topped the rogues’ gallery in police stations, and carried the distinction of being “most wanted.”

But one day he was arrested, charged, and locked up for good. Everyone heaved a sigh of relief. But some, including me, could not escape the cruel irony of his name and his character. His name was Yesurathinam, “Jesus’ own diamond.”

What’s in a name? Perhaps not much, even though a name such as the one mentioned above should cause the bearer to pause and make a change—either his character or his name. Be that as it may, we do have much to be responsible for in the names we choose to take.

I have taken two such names. Long ago I had an appointment with Christ. Not that I sought after Him; He pursued me relentlessly. The Man of the cross kept confronting me in what I did; in what I spoke; with whom I associated; more important, in how I could gain victory over sin. One moment I was lost; in the other I felt the newness that gave me a new belongingness. I got a new name: Christian.

Years later the same Christ met me and spoke to my heart about the blessing I was missing—the blessing of following Him all the way. The Sabbath and the Second Coming leaped into my heart as newfound delights, and I took upon myself the second name: Seventh-day Adventist.

Those names—Seventh-day Adventist and Christian—give me my present identity and future hope. Without either, I am nothing.