{"id":6536,"date":"2021-02-24T08:00:00","date_gmt":"2021-02-24T08:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.crazy4fiction.com\/?p=6536"},"modified":"2021-09-28T20:31:52","modified_gmt":"2021-09-28T20:31:52","slug":"til-i-want-no-more-robin-w-pearson","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sites.tyndale.com\/crazy4fiction\/til-i-want-no-more-robin-w-pearson\/","title":{"rendered":"A Letter from ‘Til I Want No More’s Maxine Owens"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Christy<\/p>\n

\n

In ‘Til I Want No More<\/em><\/a> by Robin W. Pearson, Maxine Owens is a columnist whose writes about her life, including wedding details as she plans to marry her fianc\u00e9 Theodore Charles. In the letter below, courtesy of Robin W. Pearson, hear from Maxine about what she hopes you\u2019ll take away from her story in ‘Til I Want No More<\/em>.\u00a0<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

According to my mother, Daddy used to call me Jezebel when I was little. She says it\u2019s because I used to change my clothes three or four times a day. Once I got old enough to read the Bible for myself, I wanted no part of that name. Jezebel was a queen and all, but her husband was the evil King Ahab, and eventually she got thrown out a window and torn asunder by dogs. Dogs. And nowhere did I read she was a fashionista. It\u2019s too bad my father didn\u2019t live long enough for us to share a cup of chai and a word or two about his Bible application. I mean, couldn\u2019t he have called me the queen of Sheba? That\u2019s a title I could get behind.<\/p>\n

Just what\u2019s in a name? To tell you the truth, quite a lot.<\/p>\n

A close friend once told me that Maxine, the name my mother gave me, means \u201cgreatest.\u201d I never quite believed him; if anything, I\u2019d always felt less than or not enough\u2014certainly not more. Perhaps that\u2019s why I embraced Maxie, a shortened version that some of my closest friends adopted. Strangely enough, when I heard it spoken, I felt larger than life. Like I belonged. It singled me out yet gave me something\u2014someone\u2014to cling to. For a while anyway. Then came the time for me to set aside that name. \u201cMaxie\u201d went the way of those long-ago costume changes and baby dolls . . . at least temporarily.<\/p>\n

Because as y\u2019all know, labels stick in some form or another. Isn\u2019t that their purpose?<\/p>\n

If you try to peel them off yourself, those labels can leave residue, memories, bits and pieces that point to who you think you are or who you thought you were, what you\u2019ve done or what you became. Many names have stubbornly adhered to me, despite all my efforts\u2014just like Maxie and yes, even Jezebel. Some show what I\u2019ve called myself: runaway, worrier, rebel, castoff, sinner. Others identify what other people call me: writer, daughter, sister, granddaughter, friend.<\/p>\n

Yet as informative as they seem, they don\u2019t tell the whole story. Not the name belonging to my daddy, who died when we were both too young. Not the surname I added once my stepfather adopted me, the one that signifies lifelong connectivity. Not even the name universally regarded as a calling and an honor, the right to which I signed away so many years ago.<\/p>\n

No, none of them tell my story. That, only its Author can do. God alone, the name above all names. He made Himself the hero who saves\u2014not just the day, but me. His redeemed, a name that means the world to me.<\/p>\n

Day by day, the Lord reveals that my life\u2019s story takes time, twists, and turns as it unfolds. Most importantly, He\u2019s showing me I\u2019m not its villain. What about you? Are you just as weary from living under an alias? In my case, it took some (un)doing, but He\u2019ll help you see that mistakes don\u2019t define us, and neither does who we marry, the burden we\u2019ve carried, or the not-so-ancient history we\u2019ve tried to bury. I\u2019d hoped changing my clothes and my signature would transform me into a new person. Someone I could be proud of, even love. But God already knew who I was. And He loves me just the way He designed me, past and present.<\/p>\n

So those names I used to call myself? The fear of discovery I\u2019d gnawed on for years? I had to throw that all to the dogs. Perhaps my daddy had the right idea after all, even if his name-calling could use some work.<\/p>\n

But now, O Jacob, listen to the LORD who created you.
O Israel, the one who formed you says,
\u201cDo not be afraid, for I have ransomed you.
I have called you by name; you are mine.\u201d
Isaiah 43:1<\/p>\n

\"Get<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

In ‘Til I Want No More by Robin W. Pearson, Maxine Owens is a columnist whose writes about her life, including wedding details as she plans to marry her fianc\u00e9 Theodore Charles. In the letter below, courtesy of Robin W. 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