Parallel Universe in a Hair Salon

  A few days ago, I walked into a salon for a much-needed haircut, and the woman at the register asked for my name.  She wrote it down on a calender or something and called a hairdresser forward from the back. 

“Brittany Ratcliff would like a trim.” 

The hairdresser looked surprised.  Then she got a good look at me, her face settled into a more comfortable smile, and she took me back to her chair. 

The cape swirled around my neck, and she spoke as she began combing through my brown mess of hair.

“You know, sweetie, there’s a girl in Weston with the exact same name as you - Brittany Ratcliff.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah, I don’t like her.”

She got the attention of her friend, Sam, passing by with some clean towels.  “Hey Sam, this girl’s name is Brittany Ratcliff.”

Sam’s face dropped as she heard this piece of news and looked at me.  “I’m sorry,” she said and moved on to deliver the towels.  

The hairdresser continued, “A few years ago, Sam was in a car accident with a girl named Brittany Ratcliff.”  Brittany had fallen asleep at the wheel, and she wasn’t hurt at all.  Sam, though, hadn’t been so lucky.  Partially scalped and with a broken arm and major blood vessel in her neck severed, it seemed that Sam had barely skirted death - and Brittany had tried to drive away.  “Sam’s my best friend in the world, and Brittany just tried to flee the scene of the crime.  So we don’t like that girl.”

“Wow, that’s horrible.”  I didn’t really know how to respond.  A girl with my name tried to leave this woman's best friend half-dead by the roadside.  It reminded me of the good Samaritan parable - only, some version of me from another dimension was one of the bad guys.  

“But you’re much sweeter than she is.  I like you,” the hairdresser added reassuringly, snipping off my locks all the while.  “I was just surprised when I heard your name and thought maybe it was that girl, coming in for a haircut.”  

There’s a lot in a name - after all, it’s the primary way that people identify others.  A name captures (or attempts to capture, sometimes pretty poorly) the essence of a person - their nature, character, personality - all in one word.  A name is the label we associate with all those other observations we collect about someone, and when we speak their name, we’re not just saying a word; we’re referring to everything we know about that individual.  

A couple days after this incident, I was reading John, when my Bible referred me back to a footnote on Jeremiah 16:21.  I learned that, in the Old Testament, the Jews took the name of the Lord very seriously.  It wasn’t just a word or a tag or a label.  To them, it was the embodiment of all that He is as manifested to His people, synonymous with His entire character and His gracious accessibility.  The Name had no existence apart from the One to whom it belongs.  

  This gave me something to marvel at, then, in the New Testament.  In John 16:19-28, Jesus speaks to His disciples about asking God for things in His name.  For a while, I've understood that Jesus is the reason we can pray, the reason that dirty little ants like us can approach the Holiest of Holy.  He clothes us in His righteousness, something we couldn’t possibly earn, and makes us acceptable to God.  But it just struck me so powerfully that when we pray in His name, it’s not just a word we toss in at the end of our prayer.  We’re making appeal to God by the righteousness, the essence, the character, the Name of Christ, and we can do so because of His saving work in us - all the more glory to Him.  

“Though I have been speaking figuratively, a time is coming when I will no longer use this kind of language but will tell you plainly about my Father.  In that day, you will ask in my name.  I am not saying that I will ask the Father on your behalf.  No, the Father Himself loves you because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God.”                                      
   -Jesus [John 16:25-27]