I was convicted one day. I was reading through Scripture and came to one of those places in the Old Testament where there is a list of names. Try 1 Chronicles 9:10-13, for example. Read aloud, it sounds something like this: “Jedaiah, Jehoiarib, Jachin, and Azariah the son of Hilkiah, son of Meshullam, son of Zodak, son of Meraioth, son of Ahitub…and Adaiah the son of Jahzerah, son of Meshullam, son of Meshillemith, son of Immer…mighty men for the work of the service of the house of God.”
I don’t really know these guys' stories; maybe I could find out more if I did some research. What struck me was just that: No one knows who these guys are. Aside from the seminary professor in class, nobody brings their names up at the dinner table or talks about their greatness over coffee. These guys have their names printed in the Word of God, the most famous book in the world, and yet hardly anyone has done anything but skim over their names. Their names are not remembered. They did not achieve “household name” status. And yet, they are labeled as “mighty men” in the Scriptures. What more could any man want?
My flesh wants so badly to become a household name. Something in me foolishly even thinks I could become that. Even if I did though, would it last longer than my generation? Is it worth living for my own name?
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