Abraham’s story is one we often think we know well—covenants, Canaan, Isaac and Ishmael, altars and sacrifices. From the journey of Abram to Abraham, the narrative feels familiar. But sometimes, the stories we think we’ve mastered still carry revelation, waiting to be seen when the season is right.

As I stepped into a new season, God opened my eyes to a truth first revealed in Abraham’s: He shifts our identity before He gives us influence. When God changed Abram’s name, it wasn’t a poetic gesture—it was a divine turning point. Abram (אַבְרָם), meaning “exalted father,” became Abraham (אַבְרָהָם), “father of a multitude”; a new name for a new assignment of purpose. Abraham didn’t just affirm who the forefather of faith was—it spoke to who he was becoming.

Until this moment, Abram was set apart—chosen by God, favoured in his dealings with kings, and bold in his intercession. He moved with a confidence, a kind of spiritual chutzpah (חוּצְפָּה), that made him stand out. It’s not hard to see why God worked so significantly through him. But even with all that, he hadn’t yet stepped into the fullness of the promise. He was exalted—but not yet expansive.

When God renamed him Abraham, it wasn’t just a name change; it was a shift in the spirit. God may have spoken it quietly, but it carried the force of a shout. Abraham wouldn’t just be a great man (exalted father); he would be the patriarch of countless nations (father of many). And have you noticed? His name change came just before God introduced circumcision as the sign of covenant. Almost as if God was saying, “Your identity must change before you can carry the promise.”

So, what is God saying about who you are? Because I’d wager—it’s far greater than what you, others, or the world have been saying.

Ahead of becoming so, Abraham had to first see himself as the father of nations. Identity always precedes influence—again, an identity shift is always required before an influence shift. Who you are determines what you can carry. God transforms who we are before He increases what we carry, because influence without identity won’t last; it needs to be carried by character and conviction.

God shifts your name before He shifts your reach. And that shift often happens in secret—in the hidden, hidden places of the heart and mind long before anyone else sees it through your hands. We see this pattern throughout Scripture: Moses had to shift from fugitive to deliverer before he could lead Israel. Gideon had to believe he was a “mighty man” before he could lead an army. Peter had to shift from a wavering disciple to a rock before he could lead the early church. Influence isn’t something we chase or attain—it’s something we grow into, as we become the sons and daughters God has called us to be.

Just because God declared a new name over Abram and he began to see himself accordingly doesn’t mean the promise was immediate—there was still a process of becoming the father of nations. His name changed long before a son was conceived. Influence is only sustainable when our identity is secure—the weight of fulfilled promise requires the full strength of a secure identity. God, in His graciousness, often withholds what our character isn’t ready to carry. And make no mistake—our behaviour will always follow our beliefs about who we are.

God had His reasons for making Abraham and Sarah wait so long for Isaac—25 years to of waiting to be specific. Although Isaac is incredibly important to it, Abraham’s promise wasn’t just about his son—it was about the kind of father he was becoming. Influence without identity leads to Ishmael moments, but identity forged through process leads to Isaac.

So often, we—or at least I—have cried out for speed: God, pick up the pace! But the faster something is built, the less secure it generally is. God often slows us down not to deny us influence, but to ensure we can sustain it. A sprinter may reach the finish line fast, but a marathon runner endures and finishes strong.

Time refines identity, shaping us into the kind of people who don’t just receive the promise, but can carry it. The pursuit of influence without the identity shift is like trying to build a skyscraper on shallow foundations—it might rise quickly, but it won’t stand the test of time.

We—you and I—can’t step into a new promise with an old identity: a new season requires a new name. We see this pattern of name changes reflecting divine transformation throughout the Word—Jacob became Israel, Simon became Peter, and Saul embraced his Roman name, Paul, for the sake of his mission. Just like Abraham, these name changes in Scripture aren’t simply linguistic shifts. They marked new seasons, new purposes, and deeper relationships with God. The same is true for us today—God calls us by a name that aligns with His promise.

For someone reading this, God has already called you by a new name—it’s time to step into it.