Known and Beloved

Years ago, I officiated at a funeral for a man I did not know.  He was loosely connected to the church I was serving at the time through some of his family members, and they needed a pastor for his graveside service. 

On the day of the funeral, I was rushing around because I  tried to fit too many things into the morning, and realized I needed to hurry or I would be late, so I raced off to the cemetery where the graveside service would be held. 

When I arrived, I realized that I had left the order of service I had created for the occasion, along with my funeral service book, which contained all the prayers and other pastoral elements I use at funerals. 

My first thought was, "I can do this. I've done over a hundred funerals. I can probably do most of it from memory."  And that was when I realized something far worse.  I had no idea what the man's name was.  It was on the order of service, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember it. 

What followed was nothing short of rhetorical gymnastics as I steered the graveside service without saying the man's name, calling him "our brother," "our dearly departed," and other assorted epithets.  

In what I can only assume was God finally stopping laughing at me long enough to throw me a bone, I asked the gathered crowd if anyone wanted to speak.  The first person blessedly began her remarks by saying, "Jack wasn't much of a churchgoer...." 

I said a silent prayer of thanks in that moment, and for the rest of the service, I used Jack's name at least a dozen times.  

Something else struck me during the service.  The way Jack's family and friends talked about him, he had been a friend to all, a man who showed up when he was needed, a kind and generous soul, who masked his sweetness behind the veil of a curmudgeon.  

I've reflected on that story a few times, but today I had a thought about it that never occurred to me.  

I may not have known Jack's name when I stood by his casket, but God did.  And even though Jack may not have been a churchgoer, God not only loved him but called him Beloved. 

This thought prompted me to recall a song by singer/songwriter Caroline Spence, who penned the following lyrics:  

“No matter where the storm is in my mind / It’ll never be a place that you can’t find / You hold the candle, oh, you hold the key / I know you know me.”

Though these words are written of her beloved, they echo something profoundly true about God’s love for us. To be known by another person brings comfort; to be fully known by God is life-changing.

The storms within us—our doubts, fears, anxieties, even the thoughts we try to hide—are never hidden from God. As the psalmist proclaims, “O Lord, you have searched me and you know me” (Psalm 139:1). 

God sees into the deepest corners of our hearts and does not turn away. Instead, God holds the candle that lights our darkness and the key that unlocks our freedom.

Jesus speaks of this intimate knowing when he says, “I am the good shepherd; I know my sheep and my sheep know me” (John 10:14). There is no corner of our mind or soul that is beyond God’s reach, no storm that can obscure us from divine love.

Take heart today: you are known, and you are loved. God does not simply see you; God calls you Beloved.

Prayer

Loving God, thank You for knowing me completely and still calling me Your own. In my storms, light the way. In my fear, I hold the key to peace. Help me to rest in the truth that I am fully known and fully loved. Amen.

Reflection Questions

1. What storms in your mind or heart do you need to entrust to God today?

2. How does knowing that God sees you fully—and still loves you—change the way you see yourself?

3. In what ways can you remind yourself daily that you are God’s Beloved?