What’s in a name

He had been at every party, but no one knew his name. He decided to wear a name tag like at a tacky business convention or church fellowship.
But even that caused people to shy away from him.
One friend whispered to me: “Anyone who needs to wear a name tag never heard their name in the first place.” There was something too that.
His father had actually named him Convictus after some old Roman war book he was reading at the time of his son’s death.
Of course, with a name like that, he had to shorten it to not be bullied in school. He chose a sort of rap version—Con Man, which he later shortened to Conny. People seemed to relate to the name Conny better, but as few had ever met a Conny, few could remember his name.
One day in high school, a beautiful girl came over to him, and said, “I really like how unique your name is Conny.” He blushed and couldn’t speak to girls for years.
In those years, he started going to church with his grandmother.
On one bright yellow orange Sunday morning, the minister was preaching on Jesus’ baptism. All he heard of the whole sermon, was the part where Jesus’ “Heavenly Father” was speaking his son’s name so that everyone could hear him.
“So The Father liked pronouncing his son’s name out loud! He wasn’t a secret agent but a named son.” After that, he always like Jesus.
That sermon stuck with him for life, and when he died, he instructed them to write: “Here lies the beloved Conny Convictus. Loved son of a Father of all our names.”