The Power of a Name: Being Known by God
Edited directly from the sermon transcript of Steve Grubbs’s message at Highland Hills Church of Christ on January 25, 2026. Adapted for length and readability while preserving his voice and message.
When I visit a medical office, the questions are familiar: What is your name? What is your date of birth? The staff want to make sure they have the right person.
I have begun asking a question of my own: What is your name? I don’t ask their date of birth, but I do want to know the name of each technician, nurse, and staff member I meet. When I return to the waiting area or the car, I write those names down so that next time I can address each person by name.
Why does that make a difference? When somebody says your name, it tells you that you are valued, significant, and worth remembering. Calling a person by name says, “I see you. I care about you.”
In my quiet time, I have been reading the Gospel of Luke and noticing the significance of names throughout its stories.
Early in Luke 1, Gabriel appears to Zechariah in the temple. He announces that Elizabeth will have a son and that his name will be John. Zechariah struggles to believe the promise and is unable to speak until the child is born.
When the family gathers for the child’s circumcision, they expect him to receive his father’s name. Elizabeth says his name is John. They turn to Zechariah, and he writes the same answer on a tablet. The name matters because it comes with the Lord’s announcement and purpose.
Gabriel also appears to Mary and tells her of the child she will bear. His name will be Jesus. That name carries the meaning of salvation. Names are significant.
Luke 3 gives us a long genealogy. We may be tempted to skip the names, but Luke takes the lineage of Jesus all the way back to Adam, showing his humanity and his connection with the whole human family.
Then in Luke 8, Jesus crosses the Sea of Galilee and encounters a man among the tombs. He is overwhelmed by demons and feared by the people around him. In the midst of that encounter, Jesus asks, “What is your name?”
The answer is Legion. The man’s identity has become bound up with the powers tormenting him. Jesus casts the demons out, and the man is restored. He wants to travel with Jesus, but Jesus sends him home to tell people what God has done for him.
In that same chapter, Jesus is on his way to the home of Jairus, a synagogue ruler, when he is interrupted. His ministry seems full of interruptions. A woman who has suffered bleeding for twelve years comes through the crowd, believing that if she can touch his garment, she will be healed.
She touches him, and Jesus stops. “Who touched me?” Peter points out that people are pressing against him from every direction. But Jesus knows something has happened.
Luke tells us that the woman sees she cannot go unnoticed. Trembling, she comes forward and tells why she touched him and how she has been healed. Jesus addresses her as daughter and sends her in peace.
She cannot go unnoticed. That is what we tell people when we call them by name. You are noticed. You matter. I care about you.
Later, in Luke 19, Zacchaeus climbs a sycamore tree to see Jesus. Jesus calls him by name and tells him to come down because he will be staying at his house. People grumble because Zacchaeus is a tax collector. But Jesus notices him and addresses him personally.
What would change if we lived so that the people around us did not go unnoticed?
Those of us who are married understand something of this. We noticed another person. We looked, listened, and recognized someone with whom we wanted to share life. That attention matters in every relationship, including with people who need to know Christ.
Of course, sometimes a name escapes us. It happened to me in Publix. Someone called out, “Hey, Steve,” and came over to talk. We were having a good conversation, and I was thinking, “Who is this? Why can’t I remember his name?” He had a hat on, and it had been several years. Then he laughed, and that laugh began to stir a memory.
I didn’t want to embarrass myself by asking his name. But as soon as I sat down in the car, it came to me. The connections take a little longer these days. We had worked side by side for a hospice company, caring for people through serious illness and the end of life.
When I got home, I checked my phone and found that I still had his number. I sent a message saying how glad I was to see him again, using his name. I wanted him to know I remembered him. It took a while, but I remembered.
Consider Mary Magdalene. Jesus had delivered her, and she became one of the women who followed him and helped support his ministry. In John 20, after she comes to the tomb and Peter and John have gone away, she remains weeping.
The body of Jesus is gone. The angelic visitors ask why she is crying, and she says she does not know where they have put her Lord. Jesus stands nearby, but she thinks he is the gardener. He asks whom she is seeking, and she still does not recognize him.
Then he says her name: Mary.
Everything changes. She recognizes her teacher. The risen Lord knows her and calls her by name.
I believe a day is coming when each of us will encounter that same risen Lord. He knows who we are. We have infinite worth to God.
Years ago, before my parents passed away, I was visiting them at home. My mother was washing dishes, and my father was sitting at the table. He began telling me about something that happened when I was two years old.
As a military officer, he had been stationed in Germany. My mother and I had to travel separately. She took me by train to New York City, then by ship across the Atlantic. My father traveled to Rotterdam to meet us.
He described standing on the pier as that enormous ship came into port. There were hundreds of people waiting. My mother held me in her arms, and I looked across the crowd and said, “There’s my daddy.”
There is a day coming when we will say, “There’s my Father.” We do not know when, but we can live toward that hope. We know him, and he knows us.
Until then, one simple way to reflect his love is to notice the people before us. Learn their names. Remember them. Let them know they matter. Jesus’s encounters show us the power of being seen, known, and personally addressed. We can offer that care to the people he places in our lives.
