Week Three Given Names - Your Secret Name...but in antiquity there were stigmas associated with a man who refrained from hunting and preferred the kitchen instead. Jacob did both

45 | P a g e Your Secret Name © Kary Oberbrunner 2010—All Rights Reserved—Do Not Reproduce

Week Three—Given Names

Congratulations for coming this far. Obviously our journey involves some

serious exploration. This is why most people are unwilling to come along

with you. But to go even higher, you must first go even deeper. I speak as

a fellow traveler who has walked this path. Watch this video and see what

I mean. It shares a little of my own story.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kHnzvfi5amE

Click on image or URL below

to play video.




Please write your observations, thoughts, and responses:

WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN GIVEN?

Given Names are the positive and negative names you inherit while

walking in this world. If left unchecked, these names can dramatically

shape the way you see yourself. What are some of your Given Names

you’ve picked up along the way? Please list as many names as you can

remember on the HELLO MY NAME IS SHEET below. Don’t edit. Just

write.


Now review those names. Circle the top three names that have held you

back from reaching your potential.


I believe every name has a story and every story has a wound. What’s the

story behind each of these three names? Please list out as many details as

possible. (Please use more paper if necessary.)

Most of us spend a lifetime running from these Given Names, wasting our

best years trying to escape words that trap and define us. But

transcending these terms isn’t a simple task, just ask Jacob or Esau.

Growing up alongside a sibling with natural born talent didn’t ease the

ache. Esau had everything going for him, including being firstborn, dad’s

favorite, an excellent hunter, and

exceptionally hairy—all key

qualities in primitive cultures.

Esau was a “man of the open

land” and a “man of the field.”

He liked the outdoors, stunk like

the outdoors, and he was

absolutely covered in red hair.

Jacob, on the other hand, had smooth, soft skin. In a culture that valued

hard physical labor, such skin was a sign of weakness. Jacob may not have

been well-liked by his brother, but his mom Rebekah preferred him over


his older brother Esau. There’s nothing wrong with being a mama’s boy,

but in antiquity there were stigmas associated with a man who refrained

from hunting and preferred the kitchen instead.

Jacob did both. He knew more than his fair share about cooking; after all,

Esau sold his birthright for a pot of stew cooked by his kid brother. While

older brother Esau followed dad on

hunting expeditions, increasing in

his follicle count and predatory

tactics, Jacob hung out in the tent

with mom using lotion for his

smooth hands.

Besides being described as a

schemer and supplanter, Jacob is also described as plain and quiet. Quiet

can be a good thing, but this wasn’t confident-quiet or relaxed-quiet. No,

this was fear-quiet. Unknown-quiet. Jacob didn’t stand proudly in his

quietness; he hid shamefully behind it.

What’s strange is that people like Esau may find themselves in more

trouble than people like Jacob. Success can hijack us—whether in terms

of looks, talent, athleticism, or money—

often becoming the sole thing that defines

us. Success can be the only part of us that

people see.

Maybe you’re one of these successful

people. Maybe your brother or sister is the


simple, plain, ordinary one. Maybe you’re the one with the looks, the

talent, or the brains—the one graced with the killer sense of humor or

the artistic eye. Your angst is just as profound, your hunger just as deep

as the Jacob’s.

You’re also longing to learn your Secret Name.

Each of us—no matter our Given Names—must learn our Secret Name.

Because beneath the surface of every person is a human being with an

insatiable need to know who he or she was created to be.

MASKS DON’T HIDE THE PAIN

When trying to answer this critical question, most of us tend to look every

direction, but the right one.

Sometimes we look inward–via mirrors.

Mirrors do serve a purpose: they tell us how we

look. Unfortunately, they have their limitations:

they can’t tell us who we are–despite how

intently we peer into them. Mirrors might help

us see our misplaced hair or perhaps our missing

hair, but they can’t reflect our true identities.

Who am I?


And so other times we look outward–via people.

People do give their unsolicited impressions regarding who they think we

are. We often digest their impressions and convince ourselves to be

satisfied with the trivial terms they grant us. This reality fuels our

addiction to affirmation, motivates us to work the long hours, and

convinces us to buy the latest lotion that promises to reverse the effects

of aging–because as long as the performance keeps flowing, so do the

Given Names.

But the truth is only looking one direction–upward–will reveal our Secret

Name. Fellow humans, no matter

how loudly they speak, can never

replace the voice of the Father.

And mirrors, no matter how

sparkling they appear, can never

clear up the fog. God’s whisper

alone satisfies our soul ache

because God alone knows us

better than we know ourselves.

Looking toward any other direction–inward or outward–for cues on who

we are only accentuates the hypocrisy and duplicity that inhabits our

hearts. Hypocrisy–because nobody completely bridges the chasm

between what we say and how we act. Duplicity–because on some levels,

we’re all imposters.


Intentionally or

unintentionally, we all wear a

certain set of masks. Partial

disclosure isn’t bad all the

time; it protects us from

shame and embarrassment.

But many of us wear our masks

far too frequently–so much that we’ve lost touch with our potential for

who God created us to be

WHAT IS YOUR NAME?

Jacob’s father Isaac wasn’t getting any younger. He was blind and unable

to do much of anything. Consistent with tradition, Isaac wanted to bless

his eldest son before taking his final

breath. Even though Jacob had

stolen Esau’s birthright, Isaac still

felt compelled to bless his favorite

son Esau. Birthrights carried with

them legal ramifications related to

the hard numbers of inheriting

possessions—like donkeys, camels, and crops. But blessings were

something a little different, related to the mystical and the soft science

of inheriting prophecies—like the unknown and the yet to be discovered.


Isaac knew Jacob had secured his future flocks; the meal deal made that

possible. However, in his mind, the prophetic spirit surrounding the

patriarchal blessing still seemed wide open, able to be dispensed to the

son of his choosing. And no one–especially Jacob–had to guess which son

Isaac would choose to receive the blessing.

Isaac said to Esau,

“‘I am now an old man and don’t know the day of my death. Now then,

get your weapons—your quiver and bow—and go out to the open

country to hunt some wild game for me. Prepare me the kind of tasty

food I like and bring it to me to eat, so that I may give you my blessing

before I die.” (Genesis 27:2-4).

Even on his death bed, Isaac still viewed his son for what he did rather

than who he was. Like any son, Esau longed for a transformational

relationship with his father, but all he received was a transactional one.

And so Esau left home in search of some wild game, knowing that upon

his successful return a new name would be waiting upon the lips of his

earthly father—after Dad downed his dinner, of course.

Ironically these events never

happened. A conspiracy of epic

proportions hid right behind the

nearest tent flap.

Rebekah kept her ears peeled as

she bustled around the family


compound. In the past, her good listening skills probably helped her keep

the peace around the house; but on this day her eavesdropping fractured

the family for good. She heard the entire dialogue between Isaac and

Esau. Not liking what she perceived, she went straight to Jacob.

“Rebekah said to her son Jacob, ‘Look, I overheard your father say to

your brother Esau, Bring me some game and prepare me some tasty food

to eat, so that I may give you my blessing in the presence of the LORD

before I die.’” (Genesis 27:5-6)

Mom cooked up an appealing succulent plan, garnished with layers of

delicious deceit.

“Now, my son, listen carefully and do what I tell you: Go out to the flock

and bring me two choice young goats, so I can prepare some tasty food

for your father, just the way he likes it. Then take it to your father to

eat, so that he may give you his blessing before he dies.” (Genesis 27:8-10)

Despite dishonesty on a grand scale, Rebekah didn’t think much of it. The

Name Game provoked everyone to outwit each other in the interest of

attaining their own agenda.

Yet a schemer knows one when he

sees one, and Jacob saw a crack in

Mom’s conspiracy. He warned,


“But my brother Esau is a hairy man, and I’m a man with smooth skin.

What if my father touches me? I would appear to be tricking him and

would bring down a curse on myself rather than a blessing.” (Genesis

27:11-12)

Jacob knew the price of pretending to be someone else. In ancient times,

a curse carried as much weight as a blessing. Good thing Mom had things

covered: Jacob would wear the goat skins and thereby fool his

incapacitated father. She said to him,

“My son, let the curse fall on me. Just do what I say; go and get them for

me.” (Genesis 27:13)

She vowed to take care of everything: the food, the hairy arms, and even

the outdoor-odor that characterized Esau. If the plot blew up, she’d take

the blame.

Conscience quelled–at least temporarily–Jacob got busy.

“So he went and got them and brought them

to his mother, and she prepared some tasty

food, just the way his father liked it. Then

Rebekah took the best clothes of Esau her

older son, which she had in the house, and

put them on her younger son Jacob.”

(Genesis 27:14-15)


“The best clothes of Esau…which she had in her

house?” The sacred text implies that Rebekah

hadn’t cooked up this plan instantly–not even

overnight. Her slick scheme motivated her to

stow away a set of Esau’s clothes just for such an

occasion. She even took precaution to vacuum

seal the garments, in order to preserve the

stench.

“She also covered his hands and the smooth part of his neck with the

goatskins. Then she handed to her son Jacob the tasty food and the bread

she had made.” (Genesis 27:16-17)

With the same normalcy of a mom packing her son a lunch and then

sending him off to school, Rebekah sent her son off to swindle his father

and her husband.

“He went to his father and said, ‘My father.’ ‘Yes, my son,’ he answered.

‘Who is it?’ Jacob said to his father, ‘I am Esau your firstborn. I have

done as you told me. Please sit up and eat some of my game so that you

may give me your blessing.’” (Genesis 27:18-19)

Jacob played the role of imposter so well that his own father didn’t

suspect anything—at least at first.

“Isaac asked his son, ‘How did you find it so quickly, my son?’”

(Genesis 27:20)


Jacob didn’t skip a beat.

“‘The LORD your God gave me success,’ he replied.” (Genesis 27:20)

Having spent a lifetime scheming, it was second nature to Jacob, just as it

is to some of us. But notice what Jacob revealed with his word choice.

Not “the LORD my God” or even simply “the LORD God.” Instead, Jacob

used the pronoun your. He had yet to experience God for himself. The

whole “God thing” was Mom and

Dad’s gig—not his.

Perhaps sensing that something

was not quite right, Jacob’s father

called him closer.

“Isaac said to Jacob, ‘Come near so I can touch you, my son, to know

whether you really are my son Esau or not.’ Jacob went close to his

father Isaac, who touched him and said, ‘The voice is the voice of Jacob,

but the hands are the hands of Esau.’” (Genesis 27:21-22)

Holding his breath, Jacob realized Mom’s plan was working.

“Are you really my son Esau?” Isaac asked. (Genesis 27:24)

“I am,” Jacob replied. (Genesis 27:24)

Isaac’s heart told him the truth: this wasn’t Esau. But his stomach, as

always, carried the day.


“Then he said, ‘My son, bring me some of your game to eat, so that I may

give you my blessing.’ Jacob brought it to him and he ate; and he brought

some wine and he drank. Then his father Isaac said to him, ‘Come here,

my son, and kiss me.’ So he went to him and kissed him. When Isaac

caught the smell of his clothes, he blessed him.” (Genesis 27:25-26)

“Isaac said, ‘Ah, the smell of my son is like the smell of a field that the

LORD has blessed. May God give you of heaven’s dew and of earth’s

richness—an abundance of grain and new wine. May nations serve you

and peoples bow down to you. Be lord over your brothers, and may the

sons of your mother bow down to you. May those who curse you be

cursed and those who bless you be blessed.’” (Genesis 27:27-29)

And with that, it was all over. Jacob had won again, previously securing

his birthright and now presently his blessing. Little did Jacob know that

Secret Names can’t be stolen.

ARE YOU HIDING?

Sometimes people asked me how I stopped

cutting. The cutting stopped when the

pretending did. Jacob loved to pretend and so

did I. His dad asked him his name and he lied. As

long as he lied, he couldn’t hear the truth about

how God saw Him.


Watch this video below. How have you tried hiding from God?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQi_IDV2bgM

I learned I couldn’t receive my Secret Name when I kept lying about my

Given names.

A certain group of Psalms (called the imprecatory Psalms) saved my life.

They gave me permission to stop the lying.

This particular group of Psalms causes most theologians to squirm in their

seats.

Click on image or URL below

to play video.




According to Theopedia, an encyclopedia of Christianity, the imprecatory

Psalms contain curses or prayers for the punishment of the psalmist’s

enemies. To imprecate means “to invoke evil upon, or curse.”

These Psalms are written by David, a

king of Israel, someone the Bible

identifies as a man after God’s own

heart (see Acts 13:22). The Bible holds

up David as an example to emulate.

Because the Bible gave him this label, you might think his psalms would

be sanitized and pain-free. A few might match that description, but

certainly not the imprecatory ones. These ancient writings are chock-full

of struggle, tension, doubt, anger, revenge, hurt, and fear.

I love them because these Psalms saved me back in my painkilling days.

They breathed life into me, and I saw hope in them.

Here are a couple of my favorite passages:

Save me, O God,

for the waters have come up to my neck.

I sink in the miry depths,

where there is no foothold.

I have come into the deep waters;

the floods engulf me.

I am worn out calling for help;


my throat is parched.

My eyes fail,

looking for my God.

Those who hate me without reason

outnumber the hairs of my head;

many are my enemies without cause,

those who seek to destroy me. (Ps. 69:1–4)

Pour out your wrath on them;

let your fierce anger overtake them.

May their place be deserted;

let there be no one to dwell in their tents.

For they persecute those you wound

and talk about the pain of those you hurt.

Charge them with crime upon crime;

do not let them share in your salvation.

May they be blotted out of the book of life

and not be listed with the righteous.

But as for me, afflicted and in pain—

may your salvation, God, protect me. (vv. 24–29)

Can you believe David’s brutal honesty? I couldn’t the first time I read

these verses. How could a man after God’s own heart ask God to blot out

his enemies from the book of life because he’s in Pain? I’ve never heard

these Psalms preached or sung in church before. I wonder why.


Here’s another one:

Appoint someone evil to oppose my enemy;

let an accuser stand at his right hand.

When he is tried, let him be found guilty,

and may his prayers condemn him.

May his days be few;

may another take his place of leadership.

May his children be fatherless

and his wife a widow.

May his children be wandering beggars;

may they be driven from their ruined homes

May a creditor seize all he has;

may strangers plunder the fruits of his labor.

May no one extend kindness to him

or take pity on his fatherless children.

May his descendants be cut off,

their names blotted out from the next generation.

May the iniquity of his fathers be remembered before the LORD;

may the sin of his mother never be blotted out.

May their sins always remain before the LORD,

that he may blot out their name from the earth. (Ps. 109:6–15)


After reading these Psalms, I reasoned that if a man after God’s own

heart could be this bold and raw, then there must be a place for me at the

table. You see, up until this point I

believed God didn’t want to interact

with me unless I was happy, calm,

pleasant, and perfect. I believed I

could only come into God’s presence

all cleaned up.

So guess how long I waited to come

to God?

A very long time. In reality, I never came to God, at least not in the way I

should have. When you think something other than God can clean you up,

then you’re believing a lie. But that’s the exact strategy of the Enemy of

our potential. He wants you to believe you can’t come to God until you’re

perfect.

I would still be waiting today.

And you would be too.

Maybe you still are.


THE HOLY HEISMAN

In those days of plastic performance I practiced something I call the “Holy

Heisman.” If you’re a football fan you might understand. I’ll explain.

The Heisman trophy is an annual award

given in college football. The statue depicts

a player with one hand out in front, pushing

opponents away, and the other hand placed

near his heart, guarding the football.

In my relationship with God, I practiced the

“Holy Heisman” position. I had one hand in front of me, pushing God away

with my tasks. I reasoned that as a pastor I could keep God at bay and

satisfy him with my good works. I figured he’d be pleased with all the

work I did for him, or at minimum he’d get off my back and leave me

alone. I preferred to live my life and expected God to live his, with us

hooking back up in the afterlife.

I placed my other hand over my heart to guard it. I wasn’t about to let

God get close to me, and so I desired a transactional relationship with him

rather than a transformational one. Although I associated myself with

him, I wanted to keep him at a distance, where I could control him.

My breakthrough happened when—in addition to reading the Psalms—I

also started writing my own Psalms. I followed David’s model and poured

out exactly how I felt—regardless of how unspiritual they sounded.


WRITE YOUR OWN PSALM TO GOD

In the space below, write your own Psalm to God. Please write unfiltered.

Pour out everything, regardless of how it sounds. (Use more paper if you

need it.)

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Week Three Given Names - Your Secret Name...but in antiquity there were stigmas associated with a man who refrained from hunting and preferred the kitchen instead. Jacob did both