22 Jun 2025, Luke 8:26-39 ‘He Knows My Name’

It’s a warm and beautiful day—just like the warmth we share in Christ. Let’s turn to one another and say: ‘Peace be with you.’”

My name is Do Young Kim. In Korea, people usually say the family name first—so, ‘Kim Do Young’. But here in Australia, as is customary, it becomes ‘Do Young Kim’. Sometimes, though, people meeting me for the first time or those just reading my name pronounce it like this: “Dooooo Young Kim.” That’s simply because the syllable ‘Do’ can sound like a long ‘Doo’.

I’m okay with it. I know who they’re talking to, and I respond, “Yes!” It’s not a big deal—just a small difference in pronunciation.

But the real issue here isn’t the pronunciation itself. It’s that this small difference completely changes the entire meaning of my name. I came to realize that, in the difference between being called Do Young and Doo Young, my very identity could be shaken.

My original name, ‘Do Young’ (도영, 道榮), is a combination of two Chinese characters. The first character, ‘Do’ (道), is the character for ‘path’ or ‘way’. It's the same ‘Way’ Jesus speaks of when He says, “I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life.” The second character, ‘Young’ (榮), means ‘Glory’. When you put these two characters together, my name has the beautiful and precious meaning: ‘A Glorious Path’. My parents prayed that I, their first son, would walk a glorious path in the Lord. They asked the minister at the church they were attending at the time to name me. According to my mum, the minister received the name during an early morning prayer, as an inspiration from God.

In a sense, my name carries both the prayers of my parents and the blessing of a minister; it reflects my life’s direction. But when someone calls me "Doo Young," that beautiful and profound meaning—“A Glorious Path”—is suddenly lost. The name sounds completely different and perhaps even a little terrifying.

Here’s the reason: the syllable ‘Doo’ can have several meanings. It can mean ‘head’ or ‘bean.’ So suddenly, my name and with it, my identity becomes rather awkward. 'Head of Glory' or 'Bean of Glory'? That’s quite a step down from 'A Glorious Path'. But that’s just the mild version. That same syllable—“Doo”—also appears in words for some rather unpleasant diseases, like smallpox or chickenpox. And it doesn’t stop there. Even worse, it can mean a highly contagious virus. So, in the worst-case scenario, my name could be twisted into something truly horrifying: ‘A Virus of Glory’ or ‘A Sickness of Glory’. It sounded more like a curse than a name.

This whole experience, I think, is meant to be a mirror. If even a person’s name, something so simple and personal, can be changed so easily and stripped of its meaning, then what else might we be misunderstanding or misnaming without even realizing it? And if a name can be messed up that easily, how much more vulnerable is the holy identity God has given each of us? In a world full of noise and confusion, it doesn’t take much for that sacred identity to be lost, changed, or forgotten.

I return to this question whenever I reflect on the story of my name. The world might call me “Doo Young,” and that’s okay. But here’s what I know for sure: the One who created me, the One who knows me better than I know myself, never gets my name wrong. No matter how I look, no matter where I’ve been, no matter how many times I’ve stumbled, God always calls me by my true name: “Do Young, you are a Glorious Path.”

And I believe this calling isn’t just for me. It’s God’s calling for every single one of you here today. God has given us a glorious name—His child. And not only that, but also a unique character, a special identity for each of us. But here’s the thing our reality often tells a different story. Maybe it’s our sinful nature, or maybe just our indifference, but somehow, we keep mispronouncing that name. Not out loud, but deep inside. We take “A Glorious Path” and turn it into something a bit silly like “Bean of Glory.” Or worse, something destructive like “Virus of Glory.”

And this is exactly why the question Jesus asks in today’s Scripture is so important: “What is your name?”

In our reading from Luke, this question brings us back to the man who had forgotten his real name. His situation was truly miserable. The Bible doesn’t even give us his name; he’s simply known by his condition: “the demon-possessed man,” a man whose true identity had been buried under countless layers of pain, chaos, and voices that were not his own. Just imagine: Possessed for a long time. Living without clothes. Dwelling in the tombs—the domain of the dead. His family and community had tried to chain him up, but he would just break the chains. He had superhuman strength. We could say that everything in him was under the authority of death. No control. No rest. No peace.

But here’s the radical move: Jesus walks straight into that scene. Into his wilderness. Right where death and darkness had claimed full control…Jesus steps in. The man runs to Jesus, but then this demonic voice yells out, 'What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? Don't torture me.' And right then, Jesus asks him, "What is your name?" That is the key moment.

Then comes a terrifying answer: “My name is Legion, for we are many.” Legion, this wasn’t just a name or a random term. It was a Roman military unit, a massive force of five to six thousand soldiers that dominated the world at the time. This answer reveals that the man's inner world had been occupied, not by a single evil spirit, but by an entire army of them; they dragged him into a battlefield.

So when Jesus asks him his name, he can’t give it. Because his name had been shattered into a thousand pieces. Think about the tragedy in that. He doesn’t speak his name. He speaks his brokenness. He speaks a false name, as if it were truly his own. “My name is Legion.” He didn’t say, “I’m being tormented by a legion.” He said, “I am Legion.” And that… that is the deepest kind of despair.

So why did Jesus ask, "What is your name," then? If he knew the man couldn't answer properly, what was the purpose? I believe there are a few powerful reasons.

First, He asked so He could separate the person from the problem and begin restoring his true identity. When Jesus asked, “What is your name?”, He was drawing a line in the sand. He was intentionally saying: “You are not Legion. Legion is the invader. Legion is the tormentor. But you… you are someone more, someone deeper than the thing that torments you.” It’s like a powerful act of spiritual surgery. And this isn’t just an ancient story; I would say, it’s the same for us today. Too often, we walk around carrying names that were never meant for us, things like “Failure,” “Useless,” “Sinner,” “Sick,” and so many others. But Jesus gently steps in, pushes those labels aside, and speaks the truth to us. He says: “No, you are not a failure. You are my precious child who is experiencing failure.” “You are not defined by your sickness. You are my beloved child who is fighting through illness.” “You are not useless. You are my masterpiece, created with profound purpose and dignity.” I have to say, Jesus doesn’t call us by our wounds, He calls us by our name.

Second, it wasn't just a question; it was a command. “Authority.” In the ancient world, maybe even today, to ask for a name is an act of exercising authority and demanding submission. In revealing their name as 'Legion,' they were announcing their own surrender.

Third, it was the beginning of healing. I love this part. The answer—“My name is Legion”—as horrific as it was, was actually the most accurate diagnosis of his condition and reality. It reminds us that healing begins when Jesus asks… and we respond by bringing our brokenness to Him—with honesty and accuracy. Yes, true healing starts when we stop pretending, and face the truth of where we really are.

We know the rest of the story well. It's just incredible. Jesus just says, 'Go,' and thousands of demons leave the man, going into the pigs immediately. The townspeople come running and find him. And what did they see? There he was, sitting peacefully at Jesus’ feet, dressed and in his right mind. The lips that used to scream were now silent. The hands that once harmed himself were folded in calm. And the eyes that had once burned with torment were now looking humbly at the Lord. It was the moment his true name, his lost identity, was completely restored.

My brothers and sisters, today, we’ve taken a journey together around the theme of “name.” We began with a personal story, my own name. Then we turned to the tragic story of the man among the tombs, a man who had completely lost his real name. But we didn’t stay there. We witnessed the amazing power of Jesus—the One who stepped into that chaos and restored him. And through this, we’re reminded of a powerful truth: Each of us has a precious name, given to us by God Himself. A self. An identity that is uniquely ours. How joyful it is to know that we are created in the image of God, filled with His very breath. And we carry the name: “His Child”—redeemed through the love and sacrifice of Christ. That is our true name.

And though, on the journey of life, a thousand false names have been placed on us—and more may still come—when we lay those names before the Lord, He tells us: “That’s not who you are.” He tears off every false nametag, clears away the lies, and then asks us again: “What is your name?” That is grace.

And that’s why I believe that this story is no longer just about a man in the tombs. It’s about us. We, too, need to hear Jesus ask: “What is your name?” Because it’s time… Time to let go of the false names we’ve carried for far too long. Time to stop letting them define us. We need the authority of Jesus to speak truth over our lives—because only then can real healing begin. And when He asks, I want to be able to answer like this. And I pray you can too: “God, my name is ‘Do Young.’ You named me. Let me live into that name. Let me walk in it—fully, freely, as Your child. Please, lead me.”

Or maybe for you, your name might be something else. Whatever that name is, may we have the courage to believe it, and the grace to live it. That, I believe, is the reflection our hearts need today.

And if we take one step further—this isn’t just about our own personal restoration. It’s also a sobering question about how we see others…. How we name our brothers and sisters. Are we calling them by their true names? Or are we placing false labels on them—names we’ve carelessly made up? Names that limit. Names that wound. Names that don’t belong. We don’t have to look far to see the consequences. Just turn on the news. Look at the terrifying conflict between nations like Iran and Israel. We hear countries branding each other with names like: “The Great Satan.” “The Zionist Entity.” “The Axis of Evil.” What is the purpose of these names? To dehumanize. To strip away dignity. To turn people into enemies instead of neighbours. Make no mistake—these are names that carry a power more terrifying than a thousand missiles, and more destructive than an army of tens of thousands.

Today, Jesus stands before us, just as he stood before that man in the tombs, and He asks us again: “What is your name?” Hear this clearly: It is not a question of judgment. It is an invitation of grace. It is a loving invitation to finally lay down the heavy burden of every false name we have carried, and to reclaim the one, true name He gave us in love. This is what today has been all about.

As I was preparing this message, there was a song that kept coming to my heart very strongly. The song is “He Knows My Name.”

(Song: He Knows My Name) “I have a Maker, He formed my heart Before even time began, my life was in His hands He knows my name, He knows my every thought He sees each tear that falls, and He hears me when I call

I have a Father, He calls me His own He'll never leave me, no matter where I go He knows my name, He knows my every thought He sees each tear that falls, and He hears me when I call.”

And as we sing, may this not just be music. Let it be your response. Let it be your healing. Let it be your name—spoken again in the presence of Jesus. We have heard the name God calls you by, in this sacred space. And if you’ve been carrying a thousand names, a thousand burdens— remember this: God knows your true name. So… are you ready to lay the others down, and live into the one true name He has given you? What will your answer be?

Amen.