Just Call Me Cin
If anyone’s name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire. – Revelation 20:15
Somewhere along the way I acquired a nickname. Cin. I’m not sure where it started, I think in email correspondence, but through the years I find myself signing letters or notes to my close friends as Cin. It would be nice to remember who dubbed me that illustrious name , I can’t remember—only that it’s been a very long time.
There are few with whom I feel comfortable enough to sign my name with homonym. After all Cin can be highly misunderstood. Over the years it’s become a bit of a joke, but those who dare to refer to me with this name, are friends who I love fully and completely. I chuckle at the names I’ve been assigned—things like Tennessee, Princess (there’s a joke there), Kayro (talk to my brother about that one), and today, my dear friend Eddie names me “Little” (again there’s joke there). The point is Cin is a pretty presumptuous title.
If you didn’t know me, you’d think folks were calling me sinful.
When you’re stuck with a name like Cindy it’s bound to cause you some grief. It’s not a bad name—it’s friendly sounding, happy, but it does nothing for you when someone wants to shorten an already short, two syllable word.
I’ve always been convinced that the minute I say something ugly, God thumps me. Maybe God and my mom were in cahoots. She said, “What can we name her? Something pleasant and happy.”
God says, “Cindy. That way people can shorten it to Cin and I have an easy in to rebuke her.”
Sadly enough I have to admit that I am sinful at times. We all are. We’re just not all fortunate enough to have a homonym as a name. You could say C-I-N s-i-n-s. One way or the other I have a constant reminder of what not to do and I am grateful for the gentle tap on the shoulder when I slip. God loving instructs me when I goof.
I have names for my friends, too. Baby, Chickie, Sweetie, and Goofball, and each one who gets those little names, knows how very much I love them. Names bring about a certain familiarity about us and every time one of my buddies sends me an email or an instant message and refers to me as Cin, a smile crosses my lips because I get just how much they care for me.
Regardless, the only name that really counts is the one written in the book of life. There are two things in this life I hope that I manage to accomplish. The first is how I look at things, how I see them. Then I hope the day I die people will say, “She had her Father’s eyes.” Secondly and most importantly, when the book of life is opened and Jesus begins to read, that this is one C-i-n that is not mistaken as an s-i-n. I want more than anything for my name to be in that book. Are you making the efforts to have your named penned in the book of life? This is one time it’s all in the name.