He Calls Me By My Name

Isaiah 43:1 is not a motivational poster. It is a rescue scene, and I turned it into a song (shared at the end) that has helped me through some difficult times.

"But now thus saith the Lord that created thee, O Jacob, and he that formed thee, O Israel, Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine."

It is not spoken to people having a hard Tuesday. It is spoken to people who have lived with pain so long they barely remember who they were before it—people who have been in the dark long enough to start calling it home.

That is why this moment in The Chosen has stayed with me.

Mary Magdalene is not shown as a bad woman who needs a lecture. She is shown as a woman taken by darkness, pulled away from herself. In her town she is called Lilith. And through the scenes of her unraveling runs one small memory: a little girl in her father’s arms, learning Scripture. Not as homework. As a rope to hold. A child being told: you are not an accident. You are not disposable. You are known.

Then comes the turning point.

The night she decides to end it, she walks toward the end. Jesus steps into her path and calls her by the name only her childhood still held. The name her trauma buried. The name her shame replaced. The name the darkness could not keep.

That is what Isaiah 43:1 is doing.

God does not begin with, “Here is what you did wrong.” He begins with identity.

Created. Formed. These are maker’s words. They speak of intention. They speak of care. You are Mine because I made you, and I do not cast off what I made.

Then comes the command only love can give:

"Fear not…"

Not because the fear is imaginary. Because He is not.

Then comes the line that changes everything: "I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine."

Redeemed means bought back at cost. Called by name means personal. Not a crowd. Not a category. The Shepherd comes near enough to speak your name when you have forgotten it yourself.

That moment stayed with me, and a simple chorus formed in my mind like a lullaby. Isaiah 43:1 works that way: something steady enough to repeat when the night grows loud and shame tries to rename you. So the song returns to the words of Scripture in the language in which they were first given.

The Hebrew falls in four quiet blows:

אַל־תִּירָא (Al tira) — Fear not
כִּי גְאַלְתִּיךָ (Ki ge'altikha) — I have redeemed you
קָרָאתִי בְשִׁמְךָ (Kara'ti ve'shimkha) — I call you by your name
לִי־אָתָּה (Li atah) — You are Mine

That last phrase is tender. Not possession in the cold sense, but belonging. A child in the arms of the Father who knows exactly who He is holding.

This is what my song wants to leave in a child’s heart—and in every adult who still feels, at times, like a frightened child:

You are not what hurt you. You are not what haunted you. You are not what you did, or what was done to you. You are not too far gone.

The God who formed you still knows you. The Savior who redeems you still calls you. And when you cannot hold yourself together, He does not turn away.

He comes near and says your name:

Fear not. I have redeemed you. I have called you by thy name.

Here's the full song: