The Walking Stick Journal
Stepping Stones of Transformation
An Unfolding Manuscript
by
C. D. Baker
Chapter 11: What’s in a Name?
“To him who overcomes…I will give him a white stone and a new name written on the stone which no one knows but he who receives it.” (Revelation 2:17b)
***
Color coding my summer notes helps me better see how this process alternates between God’s Presence and my blindness. A little shocked by so much shifting between progress and regression, invitation and resistance–a torturous spiraling around some mysterious key that I just can’t find.
I wish I had the faith of my mother. Thankful for Bill.
Blue notes (for divine gifts):
- God rescued both Dakota (my dog) and me when I jumped in the flooding creek to save him.
- More dreams with meanings.
Green notes (for progress):
- Feels like something good is eventually coming.
- Lots of toxins are being carved out.
- Started writing next book. Is calming to have purpose.
- Am asking God for help more often; perhaps trust is growing?
Red notes for (resistance/regression):
- Angry/anxious about the suffering and death of Michelle.
- Worried that God is not as trustworthy as I’m supposed to believe; still afraid of strings. Still afraid of him.
- I trust my thinking more than I trust him.
- I work tirelessly to figure it all out because I can only accept what I can understand.
- I fear that God will do something terrible to me to fix me.
- I think there is something missing inside of me.
***
September 2020
Virtual Covid appointments with Bill aren’t as real. The computer screen seems to interfere with his presence.
“So how are you today,” he says as per usual.
I pull my chair closer as if to connect to him better. “I dunno.” I offer my summary of summer notes.
Bill processes every word, then answers, “The false self of yours that we talk about—that compensating mindset that tries to keep us safe—needs to step aside, otherwise it keeps us from experiencing the true self that God gave us.”
I nod. Easy to say.
“This whole process is about making room for your true identity to emerge. It’s not about forming a new one.”
I write that down. But exactly what true identity?
I tell him about a strange event upon waking on Saturday. “I began wondering if my bad ear is symbolic of my not ‘hearing’ what I’m supposed to hear in all this.”
Bill waits.
“Anyway, I decided to ask God what I’m supposed to hear. What came was, ‘good and faithful servant.'” I scoff to cover my embarrassment. “Everything in me pushed against that.”
***
October 2020
Note to self: I experience life as a transaction with a distant God. Instead of unconditional love, I live according to the terms of the cosmic ‘deal’–faith, belief, obedience in exchange for God withholding his wrath.
This may explain my self-protective tendencies to be mechanical, obligatory and controlling. Nothing about this deal reaches the heart, instead it makes room for anxiety and doubt. No wonder Bill says the true me is buried under rubble. But who is the true me? Baxter Kruger tells me to ask God what my secret name is.
***
“So then I came up with the name, ‘Detached Thinker, you know, a man detached from the world–maybe above it– as he tries to figure it all out.” I smile, weakly. This sounds suddenly pathetic.
Bill nods. “It’s okay to have a thought self…we all need to think. But you use your mind to stay safely detached from God, others, and even love.”
At the word, ‘love,’ I can feel strings attaching. I stiffen.
“I’ve seen you pull out the aloof card when under pressure but never when you feel safe.” He pauses. “Distancing is a pattern that tries to protect you from this transactional God you’ve been taught.” Bill leans forward like I’m not really hearing him. “The truth is that he has never been detached from you–the real you–and you have been safe—and loved—all along.”
What ‘real’ me? I don’t connect to what he’s saying, but I can’t deny the truth that the Spirit really has been a constant presence in this process: creek music, wildflowers, dialogue in the deep-down, dreams…My mind drifts to some comments from a friend: “You are hearing God’s voice in all this; your conversations are Spirit…the Spirit likes to prompt questions within us. Keep asking.”
***
December 3, 2020
Am sitting on my meditation rock in the creek, aware that I just keep blowing more and more gaskets trying to ‘get’ faith. I conclude that ‘Detached Thinker’ is useless. I remember Kruger and sigh. “Fine. Why not?” I ask the Spirit what my name is.
I come up with ‘Shepherd’ for some reason.
“Nope.”
Well, it didn’t feel right, anyway. “Okay, I give up. You tell me.”
I wait, watching the water pass by my feet for a time until that inner prompt hits me, and hard. “David. Your name has been right in front of you this whole time! Your mother called you by your middle name for a reason that she didn’t even realize: David means ‘beloved.’ BELOVED is your name.”
I sit in silence as a large lump fills my throat. “‘Beloved?'” I spot a white stone on the creek bed. Beloved?
As I write, I’m still not sure what to do with this.