Grace and Glory.

I thought this morning, as I laid in bed and did not proceed to get up and ready for school, what if we got to change our names? What if at the end of all this mess here on earth we got to stand before the Carpenter and brush the dirt off our faces and claim a new name? And I saw it in my mind, me and Christ. His arms. My shaking off the years of not eternity. Stepping forward. Looking back. Claiming a bright newness.
Do you want to know the truth?
I want to shrug off my name.

My earthly name is beautiful, it's true. But I've also written other names on my chest. My knees. My elbows. My heart. My soul. My bones. I've named myself many times over, and some of those names? Some of those names are not so beautiful as the ones my parent's gave me.
I don't want those anymore.

I've been reading "Hinds' Feet on High Places" these days. At the end of the allegory, Much-Afraid receives a new name. And I want that. I want to have that same thing happen for me. I want to be rid of all these labels and misnomers I've adopted and even my name itself.
I want the blood of the Lamb to wash me white as snow.
I want to stand before the Lily of the Valley and accept a different me.
I want to hear Jesus call me good and faithful, servant and seeker, lover, lover, lover.
I want to leave this world behind and step into eternity.
I want His open arms, His embrace.
I want Him.

I want that. All of that.

I can't wait for heaven friends. Can you see it? Because some mornings, I think I can.