AT THE START of the academic year, before I begin my first lecture, I make it a point to address an issue that has been brought up repeatedly by my incoming students: what should they call me? My students are of different ages and cultural backgrounds. Some would call me by my first name without a moment’s hesitation, even if I’m old enough to be their father. Others would consider this an act of disrespect; they insist on calling me “Doctor” or “Professor” no matter what I say. I’m not one to stand on ceremony, but I also don’t want to force anyone into a mold they would find uncomfortable. So here’s what I tell them: “You’re free to call me anything that’s accurate. It’s perfectly fine to call me by my first name. But you don’t have to, especially if you think your parents would yell at you.”

Names. Sometimes they function as little more than labels to distinguish one person from another. But often, they’re much more than that. When two strangers tell each other their names, for example, it’s often more than just an exchange of information; it’s an implicit invitation into the next level of relationship. A person’s nickname may only be known to a select few. When anyone outside that circle uses it, it feels inappropriate. Moreover, spouses may have pet names for each other that nobody else knows — you know, like “Schmoopy Cakes” — which indicates an even more exclusive level of intimacy. And names can stand in for a person’s power and significance, as when we strategically drop names at a party to raise our status in the eyes of others.

It’s significant, then, that at the burning bush God revealed himself to Moses by name, a name whose meaning might be translated as “I Am” (Exod 3:14). This is the name that accompanied the Israelites into battle, the name that would come to make enemy nations tremble. This is the name that fills the prayers of the Psalms, the name in which the prophets spoke with divine authority. Over time, the Jews came to consider the name too holy to speak and would substitute the Hebrew word for “Lord” instead when reading the Hebrew Scriptures aloud. English translations of the Old Testament follow suit, replacing God’s holy name with “the LORD” in all caps. Even today, observant Jews still avoid addressing God by the name revealed to Moses, often preferring to call him HaShem instead — which is Hebrew for “the Name.”

The name of God figures prominently in John’s understanding of Jesus. Only in the gospel of John, for example, do we have Jesus’ seven “I Am” statements, in which he claimed to be the bread of life (6:35), the light of the world (8:12), the door of the sheep (10:9), the Good Shepherd (10:11, 14), the resurrection and the life (11:25), the way, the truth, and the life (14:6), and the vine (15:1, 5). All of these are implicit claims to divinity. And only in the gospel of John do we have the Upper Room discourse, in which Jesus invites the disciples several times to pray to the Father in his name.

Thus, many of us have been taught (or have learned by osmosis) to end our prayers with the words “In Jesus’ name,” or something similar. The behavior can be so automatic that we give hardly a thought to what we’re doing. Maybe the following has happened to you. Someone asks you to pray out loud, and you do so, praying directly to Jesus. When you come to the end, you say “In Jesus’ name” by reflex. And suddenly, a silent and awkward thought occurs to you: Oh, wait — I’m praying to Jesus. Was I supposed to say, “In your name” instead? Can I pray to Jesus in his own name? What would that even mean? I hope nobody noticed…

I don’t want us to be self-conscious about our prayers. But it would be good to be thoughtful about what we’re saying. Adding the words “in Jesus’ name” to a prayer doesn’t magically guarantee the result, nor is the prayer nullified if we leave them out. Rather, Jesus is inviting his disciples into a privileged relationship, into the kind of intimacy that suffuses all the letters of John. So think about this for a moment: Jesus has personally invited you to come before the Almighty Father in the name of his beloved Son.

“In Jesus’ name.” Don’t hurry past the words. Let them draw you into the fellowship between Father and Son.

WHY AM I saying all this? Because I don’t want to skate too quickly past something we’ve already read in 3 John. We’ve seen John encourage his friend Gaius to continue showing his usual loving hospitality by welcoming Demetrius into his home. But he doesn’t just tell Gaius that this is the right or virtuous thing to do. He reminds him of the big picture:

Dear friend, you are faithful in what you are doing for the brothers and sisters, even though they are strangers to you. They have told the church about your love. Please send them on their way in a manner that honors God. It was for the sake of the Name that they went out, receiving no help from the pagans. We ought therefore to show hospitality to such people so that we may work together for the truth. (3 John 5-8, NIV)

Did you hear it? The people to whom Gaius is showing hospitality are those who have gone out “for the sake of the Name.” Curiously, nowhere in the letter does John actually use the name “Jesus.” But he doesn’t have to. Here, he describes people spreading the gospel as doing so “for the sake of the Name,” that is, the name of Jesus.

John, of course, didn’t invent this way of speaking. Throughout the book of Acts, for example, we read of all the things that the apostles did in the name of Jesus. They spoke and taught in his name, baptized in his name, healed in his name, cast out demons in his name, and more. When the Sanhedrin had them flogged, they even rejoiced, Luke says, “because they had been counted worthy of suffering disgrace for the Name” (Acts 5:41). And one day, the apostle Paul adds, every knee will bow at the name of Jesus (Phil 2:10).

As we saw in the words of 1 Peter, some believers may have been only begrudgingly exercising hospitality. There’s no indication that Gaius thought this way, but John wants to make sure his friend keeps everything in gospel perspective. He wants Gaius to continue being hospitable in a way that honors God, because the people he’s hosting are working on behalf of the Name. Like many in ministry and on the mission field today, they need practical support. And for Gaius or anyone else to provide it is to “work together for the truth,” to be partners in the work of the gospel.

So here’s the question — or rather, two questions. First, can we recapture a sense of wonder at the privilege we’ve been given of coming to the Father in the name of the Son? And second, can we envision how anything and everything we do for the sake of the Name — including providing support for others — makes us part of one gospel family?