Have you forgotten my name? 

I have name labels on both my wrists. I wonder why? Is there a risk they might lose one of my arms? I suppose it’s possible! 

When I first came into hospital last week the doctor almost gave me the wrong medication. I’m sure they said my name was Raymond and my ECG said I had a pulse rate of around 40. Hmmm. Not in heart failure yet! Then this week the nurse smiled and said “Hello Malcolm”. 

So I guess a name label on each wrist is quite a good idea! It’s been pretty amazing to see the NHS at work in a busy A&E department. The nurses are are very professional, very caring, bit there are limits. Dealing with hundreds of people each day, there has to be a degree of professional detachment. 

It’s comforting to know that God knows everything about me. He doesn’t need a label to remind Him who I am. He counts every hair on my head. He knows every thought: my plans & ambitions, my fears and temptations. There’s a great verse penned by the prophet Isaiah. “See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.” (Isaiah 49:16.) 

“See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.” (Isaiah 49:16.) 

It just occurred to me that this is a tattoo. Just like folk have a tattoo of their loved ones on their arm, God has a tat of those he cares most deeply for on his hand.

 In fact, he cares for me enough to not just write my name on his hand. He cares enough to send Jesus  to die for me. To forgive me sin. To be strengthening me each day by His Spirit. 

I’m pleased that the NHS isn’t going to forget my name. But I’m more delighted that God knows who I am.