Naming

As I have mentioned before, I'm a TV addict. I'm selective about what I watch, but I still watch some things that seem almost like train wrecks -- it's horrible but one can't help watching. Lots of reality shows are like that. Most reality shows I wouldn't give you a plugged nickel for; I'm not interested in bad girls being stupid, manly men mowing down forests or people fishing for swordfish (I lost my interest in the Alaska crab fishing when Captain Phil died). Once in a while I'll watch truck drivers take on the frozen arctic (I do like Alex and Lisa), but I wonder how much of that is just to see ice and snow when outside my windows it's 105° and above.

Last night I watched the second installment of Sarah Ferguson's journey on the Oprah Winfrey Network. As an avid royals-watcher for years, when she crashed and burned as a princess I was half-disdainful and half-sympathetic. Having been divorced once myself I could empathize with her situation -- to a point. The reality show features an older Sarah but one who exposes an almost childlike side that is rather painful to watch. She is, I believe, very much a lost child inside, and until that child finds a way to grow, Sarah will be trapped forever in a naivete that gets her into deep caca at almost every turn.

One thing I noticed about Sarah last night, though. In discussion with Dr. Phil, he gave her a name and it seemed to turn on a light bulb. It isn't a really great name, and many of us are ashamed to say we have the same name even if our situations are totally different. "Sarah, you act just like an addict. You are an addict -- for approval and acceptance." That was it. Sarah now had a name for her problem. Now she can start to look for a way to change simply because she can put a name to that problem. I've seen it happen again and again --- things are all screwy and out of control until, suddenly, what was an amorphous mass of confusing, defeating, fog-like symptoms and actions becomes something more concrete, more clear and more manageable. It's amazing to me what the power of naming something can be. I've seen it in my own life and I've seen it in the lives of others who aren't on TV and who don't play the role on TV.

The name "addict" isn't particularly attractive. It means an uncontrolled need for something or someone. It's almost always destructive, even if it is something touted as so healthy as exercise. Nobody likes the term "addict," particularly when applied to them, but as almost any 12-stepper will tell you in so many words, you can't start curing the sickness until you know what the sickness is. Put a name to it and suddenly there are options.

Watching Sarah's light bulb moment made me remember some of mine. There are situations, too, which seem so unclear and so confusing that I was/am never sure which way to go to either get out of it or get through it. Finding a name for whatever is preventing me from movement -- fear, anxiety, past experience, addictive behaviors, stubbornness, ineptitude, hopelessness, ignorance -- helps me identify what I need to do to get off dead center.

To the world I have a name, an identifier by which they identify me. A lot of them have other names for me, most probably not very flattering, based on how they perceive me or have found in interaction with me. To myself I have more than one name, depending on what I'm thinking or involved in at the moment. A lot of those aren't very flattering either. I've been taught (or, as is probably more accurate, taught myself) to think negatively about myself; to think well of myself would be pride, to constantly remind myself what a lousy, worthless sinner I am is to be properly humble.

But I am moved to remind myself (and Sarah too) that no matter how badly we've done things, no matter how messy things have gotten and how poorly we've behaved, we still have one name that is ours for all eternity. It's one that can help move us beyond the swamp and onto solid ground. It's one that sticks, even when we seem to feel we shouldn't have it at all. It is the name God has for each of us.

"MINE!!!"