I can’t remember the first time I heard it. It would be like remembering the moment I learned my name. I know my name is Lindsay. I know I haven’t always known my name is Lindsay. But I don’t remember a time when I didn’t know my name was Lindsay.
You know that trick? The one where you say your name so many times in a row you stop hearing it and instead can only hear these alien syllables? And you think – could those sounds really be my name?
Lindsay. Lind-zee. Linzy. Linzy, linzy, linzy, lin-zy-lin-zy-lin-zy-lin-zy-lin-zy-lin-zy-lin-zy-lin-zy-lin-zy-lin, zy-lin, zy-lin, zy-lin. Zee-lin, zeelyn, zeelyn. Zee-lind. Zealand.
Jesus died on the cross for your sins. Jesus died. On the cross. For your sins. Jesus died for your sins on the cross. On the cross Jesus died for your sins. On the cross for your sins Jesus died. For your sins Jesus died on the cross. For your sins on the cross Jesus died. For your Jesus sins on the died cross.
Say the words over and over and over. Sing them into song lyrics. Write them into books. Tattoo them to your skin. Paint them on a chalkboard and hang it in your bathroom. Magnetize them to your refrigerator door. Draw them into children’s picture books. Plaster them onto billboards. Shout them over broadcasted sound waves. Repeat them like a parrot. Say them over and over and over.
But then all I have is a string of syllables I no longer understand. I don’t understand any longer. No longer do I understand. My understanding is no longer.
Can this really be my name?
Oh I long for understanding.