I never liked my name.

My parents named me for both of my grandfathers, as my father’s parents had named him for his. Leo Wilfred—antique names both of them, neither of them cool or trendy. Just odd.

Leo, my mother’s father, left me a dishonorable heritage. He died in a coal mining accident when my mother was eight years old. He was, as I have been told, a ne’re-do-well (to use the old word). He drank his paycheck, abused his family, was unfaithful to his wife, my grandmother Mimi. He died, it seems, to no one’s regret. After he died, his family treated my grandmother and her four children shabbily, helping them with nothing even though Mimi's in-laws had some means. This was in the heart of The Great Depression and it caused considerable distress.

I bear his name and I have the flag given his wife "On behalf of a grateful nation." He served honorably, it seems, in WWI.

I had little to like about my name. It’s what I’m stuck with and known by, but it never defined me, even though its oddness somewhat shaped me.

This morning I was reading from Revelation 5. John sees God, seated on his throne holding a book sealed with seven seals. A powerful angel cries out: “Who is worthy to break the seals and open the scroll?” John wept because “…no one in heaven or on earth or under the earth could open the scroll or even look inside it.”

Then one of the elders encouraged John to stop crying with these words: “See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has triumphed.”

The Greek word for Lion is leon (pronounced le'-own). It comes to us in English both as lion and as the derivative of several proper names including Leo—my name.

I’ve always known this, but this morning it touched a deeper part of me. When God drew me to himself and made me his child, he gave me a new identity, marking me with his name. We bear the name Christian, a Christ-one. We are called by his name. And in eternity, in the New Jerusalem, John tells us: “No longer will there be any curse. The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will serve him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads” (Rev 22:3-4).

[A caveat here: This is a liberty with the text. This is a purely subjective reflection, a devotional reading not directly connected with the meaning John intended to convey. John saw Jesus as the Lion who is the Lamb.]

But I bear his leonine name: He is the Lion of the tribe of Judah.” I have the honor of bearing an identity of Jesus. He is the Great Lion. I am a cub, so to speak. But I am his and I bear that name.

And, like all who follow Jesus,I am called to be like him. This morning that took on a particular emphasis, to be leonine—more like Jesus and less like my human namesake.