Dignity of a Name

There was a year of my life that I lived in a van with 9 other people. We were a group of 20-30 something’s traveling the states trying to understand what missions in America looked like and understanding the American church. We traveled over thirty states and met incredible people along the way.

Our first week out we started our journey in Asheville, North Carolina, living in a homeless shelter. Living there wasn’t an oversight on planning lodging for our team. The decision to stay there was on purpose. This shelter allowed us to stay, live alongside their residents, and offer nightly devotionals and daily Bible studies for the people at the shelter. We followed all the same rules as the rest of the residents; showering upon intake every evening, outside at 6 am every morning, lights out by 10. We ate where they ate, consisting of local food pantries and feeding centers. We lived life with them. 

Our first night, I sat down for dinner with my cafeteria tray full of free food provided by the shelter. I was nervous, I have been blessed in life to have not had to experience what living in a shelter is like. So, I didn’t know what to expect. I sat beside a woman and introduced myself. I waited for her to engage back and introduce herself, but that didn’t happen. She just looked at me, grunted, and went right back to eating. I just sat there awkwardly eating my meal as fast as I could, got up and walked away defeated. That night, I prayed over my interaction, asked God what to do and I felt like I was supposed to keep trying. 

The next morning, at 5:30 I walked out with my cafeteria breakfast tray of free food again and walked straight over to the woman from last night. I sat down beside her and said good morning. I reintroduced myself and said, “I’m sorry. I remember eating with you last night. What was your name again?” I braced myself for rejection again, but that’s not what happened. This time she responded. She said, “I didn’t tell you my name. Why would it matter? You won’t remember it. People never care to remember my name.” 

I suddenly realized that last night had nothing to do with me and my insecurities about being there. It had everything to do with how this woman had experienced interacting with people throughout her life. People had taught her that she wasn’t even worth the courtesy of calling her by her name. We began to talk and she shared how people would treat her. Due to her homelessness, people wouldn’t look her in the eye. They would cross the street to not be near her. They assumed she was a bad person just because of the situation she was in. They would treat her like she was less than human. She thought, “Why would my name matter if I don’t matter?”

I sat there, with tears in my eyes, and a broken heart. I had been that person. I had avoided homeless people before; I had judged them, I would have crossed the street, or walked quickly past trying to not get too close. I had done those things, never knowing the pain it caused. 

I looked at her and for the first time, truly saw her. Through glistening eyes, I could see she was absolutely beautiful. She had long blonde hair braided back, blue eyes that showed just how many stories she had to tell, and a soft voice that sounded tired. I looked at her and apologized for everyone who had ever treated her like she wasn’t worth knowing. I spoke of how I believe that God made everything and He doesn’t make mistakes. If God made this whole world and then decided this world needed her in it, then that’s what is true. I told her she wasn’t God’s first mistake, that her life has a purpose.  I told her that she is definitely worth knowing. She’s worthy of respect and love. I told her how she was teaching me how to be a better person simply by sharing her story with me. I thanked her for sharing and got up to put my tray away. As I start to walk away she says, “Oh, and my name is Stephanie*.”

Throughout the week, as I would see her on the street or at the meal times, I would always say, “ Hi, Stephanie!” I made sure to look her in the eye and say her name. I learned that being a neighbor to someone wasn’t rocket science. It was making them feel seen, known, and important. It was calling them by name. He knows our name! Names are important to God. If we are to love like God then we can start with making names important to us too. That’s one simple way we can love our neighbors. 

*Name changed for privacy.