I'm reading in Numbers, where God tells Moses to gather a man from each of the twelve tribes of Israel to gather a census.
He calls them by name.
God spoke their names.
I love it. I can't help loving it. He knows us. He knows our names.
When I was pregnant with Pascal, Vava was incredibly curious about the development of babies in utero. We watched these animated informational videos from Babycentre together, and learned a lot. In the first one, the narrator describes sperm racing toward the ovum, which waits "like a mysterious star". As soon as the egg is fertilized, the mother and father's genetic material merge to create one distinct new life, and the baby begins to grow. Almost all of the baby's characteristics are determined at that moment. That's nothing new, I know, something we all learned in school, but no matter how many times we watched the video, my heart burst with joy each time I saw that gorgeous glimpse of God's knitting. It's like I could almost hear Him say, "let there be ... Sam!" "Let there be ... Vava!" "Let there be ... Kachi!" And the baby blooms, wondrous, into life. "Let there be ... Pascal." And there was Sam, and Vava, and Kachi, and Pascal, and God saw that it was good ;).
In the Christmas story, we read that He did just that with both John and Jesus, naming them Himself before conception.
It wasn't just the holy conception that He planned, chose, named.
Kerneled inside that Christmas story is the truth that each one of us is precious and known and named from the beginning, knit together for His purpose.
Jesus - best and dearest of all, Jesus.
But John, too.
But us, too.
Merry Christmas, friends!