The opportunity to talk about my name has come up a lot in the past few weeks and I realized that even though I have written about it and shared about it in other places, I have not shared about it here and it feels like time.
I was born Angela Dawn Andruss.
I loved my name. Angel of the Morning. I also felt a very strong connection to my last name. Heritage is important to me and the ties that a name has to family roots matters.
January 17, 998, I gave my heart to Christ. This was not my initial encounter with Jesus. I had had many encounters with Him as a child and into my early teens and I loved Him very much; but it “felt” like an initial encounter. Perhaps a prodigal returning home. The label is not important; the surrendering of my life to Him is.
In April 1998 I went to a women’s retreat with my church. I didn’t want to go, but I felt like I was supposed to go, so in obedience to the Lord I went. That’s another story for another time, too.
The retreat was in Cannon Beach, Oregon.
On Saturday morning, we had “Jesus and Me Time”. This was one hour where we could only have a writing utensil, notepad, and a Bible and we had to remain at least 10 feet away from everyone else. (It may have been less than that or more, but 10 comes to mind.) It was a time to really focus on listening to what Jesus had to say to us personally.
I walked to a piece of driftwood, sat down and watched the ocean as I listened. I talked to God about the sea of forgetfulness, and the way the things of the past come and go like things carried to the shore by the waves and then out again.
As I watched and listened, I heard a voice say, “I have a new name for you.”
I looked around even though I knew no one was there and even though I knew in my heart it was God.
I said, “I like my name.” And there was silence.
I decided that if it was God, He was going to have to do the work because it wasn’t something I was going to do on my own. I also wasn’t going to tell anyone I was hearing voices, so I just wrote it in my journal and let it go.
Fast forward to December of 1999.
I was in Tampa, Florida going to Bible School. At a prayer meeting someone came up to me and said, “This might sound strange, but I believe God is telling me to tell you that He has not forgotten His promise. He does have a new name for you. This name will mean complete and will represent everything you are in Christ. It will be the cornerstone of your ministry.”
To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I literally had not given that conversation another thought since I wrote it in my journal, and I certainly hadn’t said anything about it.
I’ll be honest, I was simultaneously surprised and nervous. I had moved across the country to go to Bible School and my family didn’t approve, there were rumors that I was in a cult because I’d made this move. So, the idea of telling them that God had promised to give me a new name was…well, not really something I wanted to think about at all, not only because I didn’t want the confrontation – although that was part of it; and not only because I wanted the approval of my family – although that was also part of it, but primarily because I didn’t want to hurt them. I was afraid if God really did change my name that it would deeply hurt both my immediate and extended family. As if I were rejecting them and the name they gave me. This was a hard place to be. And a part of me really hoped that this was just a coincidence rather than something I would have to decide to act on.
Still, I was resolute. I would write it down and let God do what God wanted to do. I would not try to make it happen. And so that’s what I did. I wrote it down and moved on.
In January of 2000, or February, I don’t remember now, I was baptized and that was a God encounter that changed so much for me. And yes, another story for another time, but one worth telling.
The next day everything looked and felt different, lighter, more clear.
After church, my roommates and I were sitting in the living room of our apartment talking and suddenly one of them stood up and said, “I’ll be right back.” as he headed to the office.
I knew the moment he said that, that he was going to come out of the office with my name. I didn’t know how or why, but it was something I just knew.
Minutes later, he was handing me a piece of paper with the name “Anysia Derora” written on it. And that was it. Again, I just knew that this was God and that this was the name He had promised me. I didn’t know what it meant. I didn’t know how to pronounce it. But I knew that I knew that I knew that this was mine.
I went to the office, turned on the computer, and looked it up.
Anysia is Greek and means complete or completely. Derora is Hebrew and means free or freedom. So, my name meant completely free or complete freedom.
I was in tears.
I grabbed my journals…”the name will mean complete and represent everything I am in Christ. It will be the cornerstone of my ministry.”
And amid the wonder and appreciation and humility of that moment, fear snuck in.
What now?
I had no idea what to do.
I sent an email to friends and family sharing the experience. In hindsight, I think I was measuring reactions, but I don’t recall getting much feedback good or bad.
I tried the name as a nickname, but giving yourself a nickname never works that well and Anysia was so different and unrelated to Angie that it just didn’t stick, and it caused a few problems when I used the name Anysia and then needed to show ID.
It was frustrating, to say the least, and I had no clarity.
In October of 2000, I knew I needed to do something. I spent some time in prayer and fasting specifically about the name. And God spoke.
He said, “This name is My promise to you. You can take it as your own or let it go.”
His voice was calm, loving, and tender. There was no guilt or shame in either decision. He was leaving it entirely up to me. He was offering me a gift that was precious to Him, I could feel His heart in it, and He was waiting to see if I would receive it even if it was costly.
And I did. I began taking the steps to change my name legally, to take the promise. I wish I could say I was full of faith, and that I had no fear at all but that would be a lie. I was full of faith. Every step of the process was a step of faith. But there was fear and anxiety too. It was a big lesson to me that it really is possible to step out in faith in the face of fear; to respond in faith even when fear is present. The presence of fear does not mean there is no faith, it is part of the necessity of faith.
I trusted God with the hearts of my family, and my own heart as I told them what I was doing.
There are no words for the dichotomy of emotions even as I was certain I was doing exactly what I was supposed to do. Writing about it I can still feel the turmoil, the longing to make sure everyone was protected and safe, that they all would “get it”.
Once I completed the legal name change, I went through another experience – I tried to make the name easier for everyone around me. I tried making it shorter and coming up with nicknames, anything I could do to ease the transition for everyone around me.
The Holy Spirit captured my attention one day as I was trying to find something that would work. I’ll never forget what He said, “You don’t need a nickname. Don’t you realize that every time someone speaks your name, they are declaring My promise and purpose over your life?”
I had not realized that, had not even considered it, and I was in awe of His ways all over again. So, I stopped trying to come up with abbreviations and nicknames and just helped people through the pronunciation of my name.
And time and again, from the moment I stepped into the courthouse to meet with the clerk, the judge, and the other individuals involved in the process until today, God has done amazing things in my life and the lives of others as I’ve shared the story of His gift and promise.
