What’s in a Name?

After ordering lunch at a restaurant counter, the clerk asked my name, but I hesitated to respond. As she waited for my reply, she looked at me expectantly, wondering why I hadn't answered right away. Finally, somewhat sheepishly, I said, "Karen." The look that crossed her face was one I have become familiar with over the past year. In the silence and the fleeting expression, you can almost hear the other person's thoughts – perhaps a mix of sympathy, embarrassment, and discomfort. To lighten the moment, I quickly added, "…sadly." She burst out laughing because my name creates tension nowadays, and the joke released it. By referencing the new meaning of Karen, I had given her unspoken permission to acknowledge the elephant at the register.

Over the past couple of years, popular culture has hijacked Karen as a negative label for someone exhibiting reprehensible public behavior. More specifically, it's a pejorative term used to describe an angry, obnoxious, even racist individual – generally a middle-aged, white woman.

That particular week at the restaurant, the discomfort with my name was at an all-time high because a new horror movie had just been released in theaters, titled "Karen." The film depicts a suburban woman's malicious attempt to drive out the only black family on her street. The titular character was obviously not following the Biblical exhortation to love her neighbors as herself.

Soon after the lunch counter incident, I cleaned out a drawer and found a bookmark my mother had given me when I was a teenager. At the top, written prettily in pink letters, was my name. Below it was the original Dutch meaning of Karen, "pure in heart." Until recently, I had always felt a sense of pride in my name because it meant something good, and it was chosen for me by someone I love – my mother.

At the bottom of the bookmark was a verse, Proverbs 22:1, "A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches." The verse probably has more to do with one's reputation than actual name, but I think the two are linked. Hearing the name of someone we know calls up all kinds of thoughts, memories, and impressions of that person.

Names are powerful that way – carrying a weight of meaning, identity, and history. From the time we are born, we are identified and called by our name – it's an inextricable part of us. Names are bestowed, like gifts, often after many hours or months spent laboring over the life-long decision.

I have a pretty good sense of humor, but I haven't been able to laugh about culture's newly adopted meaning for Karen. I feel sad that the moniker I will carry for the rest of my life is now a negative label. It hurts to watch it being sprayed from the cultural firehose at people who do or say reprehensible things.

Names matter. That's why people don't choose curse words or "Hitler" for their babies. And they certainly wouldn't call their child something that would become a derogatory word later if only they knew.

When my youngest son was in kindergarten, his teacher asked the class if anyone knew the story of their name. My son quickly answered, "I know! My name came from God." When the surprised teacher asked him to explain, he innocently replied, "Because God knew me before I was born."

Ultimately, names have value because we who bear them have value to God, who made us. We are "precious in His sight," even when we aren't precious in the sight of others.

But it isn't just our names that carry weight and meaning to God – it's all of our words and how we use them. In a culture where mean, spiteful pettiness is not only tolerated but often celebrated, it's easy to believe that speaking unkindly, even abusively, is a new development in history. But it's at least as old as the Biblical record because God talks about it a lot, in no uncertain terms. For example, James 3:9 says of the tongue: “With it we bless our Lord and Father, and with it we curse people who are made in the likeness of God.”

Being named Karen in this modern era has helped me understand the power of name-calling on a new level.

In many instances, insults are hurled for no good reason – just out of meanness. But in the case of Karen, it is often used after someone's words or actions lead to emotional reactions. Destructive behaviors often provoke us to want to spew verbal attacks. But even if or when those feelings are justified, God tells us to respond with a gentle answer to turn away wrath. Of course, that’s easier said than done but oh, so necessary. People will know we are Christians by our love, but won't see Christ in us if we disparage others like the rest of the world.

I lament not just the way the tongue is used to tear down but also the selfish, harmful behaviors and attitudes that stimulate and give birth to mean speech. It's a tragic side of humanity that we are capable of mistreating strangers, acquaintances, or even our own loved ones – lacking compassion and causing deep pain with words or deeds. Sometimes vitriol even comes unbidden, as if closer to the surface than we realize – like when someone cuts us off in traffic or when we're tired, frustrated, or feeling powerless.

Awful behaviors were the spark for hijacking the name Karen in the first place. Hurting others isn't healthy, loving, or good. Neither is responding to those wounds with more attacks, such as using the name of approximately one million people as a derogatory label. But Karen is far from being the worst thing we can call someone – there are countless other more painful names humans have used against each other throughout history - slurs, smears, expletives, and worse.

But what I'm learning from watching the world via the internet these last few years is that rash words, name-calling, and verbal lashing don't bring reconciliation or healing in relationships or cultures. Moments where we all gather around the latest video to watch someone being vile, then laugh as we collectively label them a Karen (or much, much worse) is just adding fuel to the hostile human fire of hatred.

There is no hope if the best tool in our arsenal to combat hateful acts or speech is more hurtful words. So even though I still struggle with the day-to-day exercise of being kind (the day I wrote this, someone cut me off in traffic, and I didn't feel very forgiving), the hope I want to live by is that healing can come through love - not the world's kind of love, but love in the person of Christ. The type of love that seeks to reign in the tongue, listen instead of spewing, be tender instead of hard-hearted, and shine light into darkness rather than heaping on more darkness.

Christ-like love isn't something that comes naturally, at least in my experience. It takes more than intention and effort - I've found that reigning in my tongue takes the supernatural overcoming of my human nature – an infusion from the source and definition of love – God, Himself. God's love is something I have to return to every single day – especially when I interact with others. I don't want my behaviors or words to make the world a more brutal place than it already is for my fellow inhabitants.

So now, and maybe for the rest of my life, my name will be a daily reminder to me of why God came – why He sent Jesus to save us from ourselves. Being named Karen in this era is like a thorn in my side – never letting me forget how important it is to be kind each day. I need God in order to live with others peacefully, to control my words and whether I use them to help or to hurt. A hijacked name is painful and not how I would choose to be reminded, but in this world where it's so easy to forget the path to healing and peace, I'm willing to lay down my name to remember.

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