My name is derived from the Hebrew word Matityahu, meaning “gift from God.” However, Matthew is dull. It’s like a sandwich without mayo, dry and tasteless. There’s no pizazz, nothing special about it.

The name Matthew has its roots in the bible, as does every name in my family. Matthew worked as a tax collector in Capernaum, a small town on the coast of the Sea of Galilee. The Lord called to Matthew, and so he gave up his life to follow the son of God and spread His word to the world.

My parents, both being very religious, had decided that I would be named Matthew, a man of faith and the first author of the Gospel. All of my siblings are named after important biblical figures. It’s an honor, I suppose. Like being named after your great grandpa, you never knew the person, but you know they were important.

To my friends, I’m Matt; it’s easier to say. Matt is fun and lively, always on the move. A song blasting through the speakers. It’s a cool, refreshing breath on a morning in October and a breezy weekend of sailing on the lake. There is a time and a place for both names, but I prefer Matt over Matthew. Matt represents my fun and adventurous side.

My name will change, back and forth between Matt and Matthew. It’s as if I am jumping between different levels of maturity. To my teachers and coaches, my name is Matthew; long, formal, and boring. Matthew is someone you would with down with and talk about politics. It’s also a name associated with disappointment; when my parents use my full name I know they are furious about something, shouting through the house to summon me. But, Whether I’m Matt or Matthew, I will still be a gift from God.