God Who Calls Us By Name
In a world where names and labels shape how we see ourselves and others, Isaiah and Matthew’s Gospel invite us to consider who has the power to define our worth and imagine our future. Through the naming of Cyrus as God’s anointed and Jesus’ challenge to the authority of Caesar, we discover that the names of this world are only part of the story. Through an interactive offering, we will reflect on the names we carry, the names we give others, and how we might make room for God to reshape the way we see one another.
The Glimpses of Grace podcast is a ministry of Grace Episcopal Church in Gainesville, Georgia. We are passionate about supporting the spiritual growth of souls, and we hope these sermons and conversations meet you where you are and enrich your soul as we all continue to make meaning in the world today.
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Transcript
There is power in a name.
We know this from wondering about the names given to us,
the names we choose for ourselves,
the names carried by those who came before us.
We know it from the way it feels when someone remembers our name, or from the way it feels when someone forgets it or gets it wrong. We know it from nicknames. Some fill our hearts. Some are hurtful. (I remember the stress of naming my own children.)
There is power in a name.
They do more than identify us. They tell stories about who we are. They shape what others expect of us and what we come to expect of ourselves. They can label. They can limit.
They wound. They restore.
Today’s readings consider the power of naming.
Who gets to name us?
How do names decide worth?
We begin with Isaiah:
“Thus says the Lord to his anointed, to Cyrus…”
Cyrus.
The king of Persia.
A foreign ruler, the head of empire,
a figure of military power, of political ambition.
Not a prophet, not a priest,
not one the people of Israel would have imagined
as central in God’s story of redemption.
But God calls him anointed,
mashiach, set apart for God’s purpose.
God gives Cyrus a name that seems fit for someone else.
And, God is sure to point out that Cyrus does not even know God— “I call you by your name…though you do not know me.”
God names Cyrus before Cyrus knows God.
God identifies a purpose in someone who doesn’t yet recognize that purpose. God recognizes possibility through one who doesn’t fit expectations.
Cyrus will become an instrument,
freeing the Jewish people from Babylonian captivity.
The empire gives way to new possibility;
the people who lived in exile will begin to imagine home again. Isaiah insists that God is at work in this transformation.
God works beyond the boundaries we draw around God’s activity. God calls a foreign king by name.
God sees possibilities we have not imagined.
God is doing something new, and the first sign is that of a name. Cyrus. Anointed. Called.
Not what the people expected…
In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus is approached by a group of people who want to trap and trick him.
They first flatter him and then pose a question about taxes, about power— “is it lawful to pay taxes to Caesar or not?”
The Roman Empire has a claim on the people.
The empire makes its demands…it demands their money.
Its people, those in power enforce its authority.
Its coins circulate and carry a reminder of who has power.
Jesus asks to see the coin used to pay the tax—
“whose image is this, and whose title?”
Jesus asks them to look at the image, the title, the name.
The coin isn’t just money. It’s a declaration of power.
It carries an image, an inscription proclaiming its power.
The empire has named itself powerful.
It has named itself the authority to which people owe their allegiance. The emperor’s name determines who collects taxes.
His name stands behind the military.
His authority shapes lives.
Naming is never just about words.
Naming defines reality, establishes agency.
Every society has ways of naming and deciding whose voices are heard. We have names for the undeserving. We have labels for those who belong. Smart. Difficult. Successful. Lazy. Problem. Failure.
And once a name becomes part of the way we see the world,
it can be difficult to see with fresh eyes.
A person becomes alien instead of a neighbor.
Strangers become threats. Mistakes become failures.
Communities become statistics and stereotypes.
The power to name becomes the power to distort one’s story and and diminish one’s dignity.
So Jesus asks,
Whose image is this? Whose title?
Whose claims are you accepting? Whose account of the world are you affirming?
Jesus knows that people live within systems that make real demands of them. But he refuses to let Caesar’s claim be the whole story—
“Give to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s.”
The emperor may stamp his image on a coin.
That does not mean he tells the truth.
The emperor may give people names.
That does not mean those names are all there is to them.
The emperor may claim authority.
That does not mean he determines their worth.
If the coin bears the emperor’s image, what bears the image of God?
All bear the image of God.
And if that is true, then there is a name that comes before every other name we give one another.
Beloved.
Beloved, because we are God’s creation. And God saw that it was good.
The world will give us other names.
Some of the names may be accurate to roles or things we have done. Some may reflect gifts, callings.
Others we will find unfair, hurtful, or incomplete.
God’s naming makes room for truth,
while holding the possibility of transformation.
It makes room for justice without reducing people to their worst moments. It makes room for a future that might be difficult to imagine.
Cyrus is not someone the people would have chosen to carry their hopes. But God names him for a purpose.
That’s what Jesus is inviting us to consider.
What happens when we shift the reality in which we see things? What happens when we stop allowing the names of empire…
the names of status, success, failure…to shape our reality?
Consider the names we carry into this room.
Some of us have been called gifted, dependable, wise.
Names have helped us discover something about ourselves.
Maybe we’ve been called too much, not enough, difficult, foolish. Names have been given to us by people who were supposed to love us. We’ve accepted names that our work, our family histories,
our income, our education, the language we speak
seem to have decided for us.
We’ve become so accustomed to the names we carry
that we no longer realize the power they have over us.
We have been named, and we begin to live accordingly.
But,
this is where we’re invited into a spiritual practice.
We can ask ourselves:
What names am I carrying?
What names am I giving others?
Are those names helping me see the image of God,
or distorting things, making it harder for me to recognize God’s image?
The names we use do something to the world.
They shape our imaginations.
So, I invite you into a practice this morning.
We’ve heard about God naming Cyrus.
We’ve considered the name and image stamped on the emperor’s coin. We’ve wondered about the names we carry and give others.
Let’s make an offering.
An offering can be a gift, money or a thing given away.
An offering can be something we present or place before God— a name, a story, an assumption, something we are ready to see differently.
In a moment, you have an opportunity to write.
There are a few ways you might approach this.
You might write a name you have been carrying that no longer serves you… a label someone gave you or a judgment you have made about yourself. You might write a name you have given someone else…
a label that has shaped how you see them.
Or you might write a word that opens a possibility:
a new relationship, a new future,
a new way of seeing.
No need to share it with anyone. No need to explain what you write. This is not a confession or a test.
You don’t need to write anything at all, maybe just hold it in your heart. It’s simply a way of noticing the power names have in our lives and bringing it to God’s presence.
Consider:
What name have I been carrying?
What name have I been giving others?
What might change if I allowed God to have say in the naming?
Whether you actually write anything or not,
hold it and offer it at the offertory.
In the act, you’re not just giving something up,
but making room for something new.
You are placing a name, a story, a possibility into God’s hands.
Let us pray.
God who calls us by name,
you know the names we carry.
You know the names that have given us courage and
the names that have wounded us.
You know the labels we have accepted, judgments made,
and the stories we tell ourselves about who we are and who others are. Give us the courage to release the names that
diminish your image in us and in one another.
Give us the wisdom to name injustice truthfully,
accepting the possibility of healing.
Receive our offerings.
May we welcome a new heart, a new spirit.
Amen.
The Rev. Dr. Brandon Nonnemaker
October 18, 2026