When Forgotten Names Matter: Azel, His Six Sons, and the Hope of Being Written in the Book

By Dr David Putnam

There are passages in Scripture that feel like speed bumps—lists of names, genealogies, obscure figures who appear for a verse or two and then disappear into the quiet dust of history. We skim them. We nod politely at them. We rarely preach from them. And yet, sometimes the Spirit stops us right there, in the middle of a list of names, and whispers, “Look again.”

One of those moments happened for me recently while reading through the genealogies in 1 Chronicles. Tucked away in the long roll call of Benjamin’s descendants is a man named Azel, and his six sons—Azrikam, Bocheru, Ishmael, Sheariah, Obadiah, and Hanan. They appear in 1 Chronicles 8:38–39 and again, almost identically, in 1 Chronicles 9:44.

Twice. Same names. Same order. Same quiet obscurity.

And I found myself asking: Why? Why does the Chronicler pause long enough to name Azel and his sons twice? Why preserve these names at all?

The answer, I believe, speaks directly to the deepest ache of the human heart—the longing to know whether our names are written in the Book.

The Quiet Significance of Azel

Azel is not a king. He is not a prophet. He is not a warrior, priest, or poet. He is not a man whose story is told in narrative form. He is simply a name in a genealogy—a branch on the family tree of Benjamin, descended from Saul through Jonathan.

And yet, the Chronicler includes him twice. Why?

Because Chronicles is a book about restoration. It is written after the exile, when Israel’s identity had been shattered, scattered, and nearly lost. The Chronicler is rebuilding a people’s memory. He is stitching together the torn fabric of belonging. He is saying:

“You are still the people of God. Your story did not end in Babylon. Your lineage is not lost. Your name is not forgotten.”

Azel’s presence in the genealogy is not about his accomplishments. It is about God’s faithfulness.

His sons’ names preach the same sermon:

· Azrikam — God has established

· Bocheru — firstborn / youth

· Ishmael — God hears

· Sheariah — Yahweh has considered

· Obadiah — servant of Yahweh

· Hanan — gracious / favored

Put them together and you hear the heartbeat of restoration: God establishes. God hears. God considers. God receives His servant. God shows grace.

These names are not filler. They are theology.

They are reminders that even the smallest branches of the covenant family are held firmly in the hands of the God who remembers.

The Book Moses Spoke Of Azel’s sons raise a question that echoes across Scripture: Are our names written in the Book?

Moses spoke of such a book in Exodus 32, pleading with God:

“Please blot me out of the book that You have written.”

David speaks of it in Psalm 69. Daniel speaks of it in Daniel 12. Jesus speaks of it in Luke 10. John sees it in Revelation 20 and 21—the Lamb’s Book of Life.

It is the book of belonging. The book of covenant identity. The book of redemption. The book of names that God remembers.

And here, in the dusty genealogies of Chronicles, we find a quiet echo of that book—names preserved, remembered, written, repeated.

Azel’s sons are not remembered because they were important.

They are remembered because God is faithful.

And that is the hope of the Lamb’s Book of Life.

When You Feel Unimportant

Most of us, if we’re honest, feel more like Azel’s sons than like David or Paul or Esther. We live ordinary lives. We raise families. We work jobs. We serve quietly. We pray faithfully. We walk through seasons of joy and seasons of sorrow. We try to be faithful in small things.

And sometimes we wonder:

Does any of this matter? Does God see me? Does my name matter in the story of redemption?

Chronicles answers with a gentle, resounding yes.

Azel’s sons mattered—not because they were famous, but because they were written. Their names were preserved in Scripture as a testimony that God does not forget the obscure, the ordinary, the unnoticed.

If God remembers Azrikam and Bocheru and Sheariah—names we barely know how to pronounce—then He remembers you.

If God preserved the lineage of a quiet Benjaminite family through exile and restoration, then He can preserve your life through whatever exile you are walking through.

If God wrote their names in His book, He can write yours.

Faith Writes Our Names into the Story

Here is the beautiful truth: Every act of faith writes your name deeper into the story of redemption.

Not because faith earns salvation—Christ alone does that. But because faith aligns your life with the purposes of God.

Every prayer whispered in the dark. Every act of kindness no one sees. Every moment of obedience when it would have been easier to walk away. Every sacrifice made in love. Every step taken toward Christ. Every tear shed in hope. Every burden carried in trust.

These things matter. They are not forgotten. They are not wasted.

They are written.

Azel’s sons remind us that the smallest lives can carry the largest significance when they are held in the hands of God.

The Lamb’s Book of Life and the Sycamore Tree

At Sycamore Library, we often talk about stories—stories of faith, stories of Scripture, stories of redemption. We believe that every person who walks through our doors carries a story worth telling, worth preserving, worth remembering.

And here is the gospel truth:

If you belong to Christ, your name is written in His book—not because you are important, but because He is faithful.

The Lamb’s Book of Life is not a record of human achievement. It is a record of divine grace.

It is not a list of the impressive. It is a list of the redeemed.

It is not a roll call of the famous. It is a roll call of the forgiven.

Azel’s sons remind us that God delights in writing the names of ordinary people into His extraordinary story.

Your Name Matters

Let me say this plainly:

Your name matters to God.

Not because of what you’ve done, but because of who He is.

He is the God who remembers. The God who restores. The God who writes names. The God who keeps covenant. The God who gathers the forgotten. The God who preserves the obscure. The God who sees the unnoticed. The God who calls the ordinary. The God who redeems the broken. The God who writes stories no one else could write.

Azel’s sons are proof.

A Final Word of Hope

One day, John tells us, the books will be opened. And another book—the Book of Life—will be opened.

And the names written there will enter the New Jerusalem, where every tear is wiped away, every sorrow healed, every exile ended, every story completed.

And on that day, the God who remembered Azel’s sons will remember you.

Not because you were important. But because you were His.