Dear Clark Christopher,

December 27, 2010

Your name is a story, and you will grow up in the telling of this story.  Over meals, in our going out and our coming in, even in your lying down, you will hear this story.  Your mother and I are eager to see your own story be told; each action and word and development; who you meet, how you respond, even what you will look like.  But I want you to understand even now, while you are in your mother’s womb, that the story of your name is part of a much larger story that you will be telling.

The prayers I wrote this September:

The legacy I want to leave this son is one of Your Kingdom, O Father.  I want him, each time he considers his name, to be reminded of You; to be reminded that he is, first and foremost, born into Your service; the son of Your maidservant.  Tell me the story of his name so that I can tell him; so he can grow up in the story.

Clark – Literally means (clerk, scholar, a scribe, a chronicler, an historian of record).  The men who wrote the Chronicles and the histories of the Kings were keeping the records of God’s works.  How He moved through men, on behalf of men, even as a man to deliver us all from evil is written down in acts of worship so that we may remember God’s kindness. 

The prophets each were taking down the Words of God in His courts (or caves, or visions, or exiled by foreign rivers).  All of the Words telling the story of Christ.

Christopher – He shall bear Christ with him in all of his work.  In all of your words, Clark, and in all of your actions, you will bear Christ; His story will be hoisted up on your shoulders.

Psalm 45 says it as clearly as it might be said, so let me say it covering you: I thank You, O Father, for answering me.  For telling the story of Clark’s name.  That he would come into this world knowing You; adoring You.  That his heart would be overflowing with a pleasing theme; he will address his verses to the King; his tongue is like the pen of a ready scribe.  If I can, if it us under my authority, I sanctify his tongue – no man can control his tongue – but Father, I ask that You fill his heart – those four chambers that moved me when I saw them beating – fill them with a pleasing theme even now, so that when language does come, his tongue will be shaped and taught and trained by praises for You, our King.  Pour grace on his lips as grace is poured on Yours.  

May he forget his people and his father’s house; may he cause Your name to be remembered in all generations, so nations will praise You forever and ever.

Sincerely and with great love,

Seth and Katie Wieck