Andrea Sanborn

I never found my name on the keychain spinner.

Not for lack of trying. In every store I would make my way past the postcards and Sweet Tarts to find the inevitable display of keychains printed with the most popular names. There were plenty of Kathys, Cindys, and Jennys. Marys, Lisas and Loris. Debbys, Pattys and Sues. But never an Andrea.

My mother was before her time, I suppose, giving my sister and me names that would stand out in a crowd. We wouldn’t have to add an initial to be distinguished from the Lindas and Karens in our classrooms. And honestly? I liked it. But still, I couldn’t help feeling left out when I spotted the Kims and Christinas hanging there. It would have been nice to find just one keychain dangling between Alison and Angela.

Now there are so many unique names that the keychain manufacturers can’t hope to keep up. Do they still have those things in stores, anyway?

We’ve all stood in other places, though, searching for our names, haven’t we? Class lists, team lists, winners’ lists. We’ve all felt that sinking disappointment at not being chosen. Not considered good enough in places where the stakes were much higher than a gift store keychain display.

We’ve all felt invisible. Passed over. It’s what drives some of us to reach the top, where we can look down on others. It’s what drives others of us to reach down, to befriend the lonely and the strangers among us.

Sometimes those with the highest confidence and well-honed social skills hide a deadly insecurity underneath. Celebrities have 3 to 10 times the rate of depression vs. the general population. These are people who are beautiful, wealthy, and adored.

It’s not just you and me.

So where do we go with this inner ache? This hunger to belong? To be loved?

To the One who knows exactly how it feels:

He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. (John 1:10-11)

We find perfect love from the only One who loves perfectly. This is real love, John writes, not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins. (1 John 4:10)

He loved us first. He initiated. And He still pursues. He tracks us down with an invitation to an endless homecoming celebration.

He wants us, he said, to be with him. (John 17:24)

This is the kind of love that can keep us; satisfy us; and fill us with joy as we make our way through this broken world.

Because someday, no matter how overlooked and underestimated we’ve been here, the books will be opened. Books with names. Our name. Chosen. Welcomed. Ushered into unending joy.

Someday, there will even be a keychain with my name on it. The key to my Father’s house is waiting for me even now. I can hardly wait.