A lesson from Martin Luther KIng Jr.

Fifty years ago this week, Martin Luther King Jr. blew out 39 candles on his birthday cake.

He had no way of knowing it would be the last time he'd hear "Happy Birthday" sung to him. Less than three months later, the leader of the nonviolent civil rights movement would be dead.

The young "prince of peace" had packed a lot of life into less than four decades. Though he stood only 5 feet, 7 inches, he was a giant of a man. Like the One whose Gospel he proclaimed from the pulpit at Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, King practiced what he preached.

And as was true with Jesus, because of his death, his message lived on. Though his enemies robbed him of his life, they could not silence his call for liberty and justice for all.

I was a sophomore at Wenatchee High School when King was gunned down on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis. As such, I was too young to fully appreciate the impact of his life or his death.

Growing up in a mostly white community, far from the Mason Dixon Line, I had been insulated from the gravity of the civil rights movement. Not until I did my own research years later was I able to appreciate the larger-than-life influence of this diminutive prophet. In addition to looking beneath the headlines, I also discovered a rather unusual fact.

Did you know that the name on his birth certificate was Michael King, Jr.? It's true! On Jan. 15, 1929, when The Rev. Michael King announced to his congregation that his wife had given birth to a boy, he informed them his son would carry his name, Michael King, Jr.

But in the summer of 1934 something happened that would change both their names and the course of history.

The elder King traveled with some of his pastor colleagues to the Holy Land. After "walking where Jesus walked" in Palestine, the group stopped in Germany to attend the Baptist World Alliance.

King took advantage of the opportunity to explore the region where the Protestant Reformation had been birthed in 1517.

He was particularly impressed by the courageous faith of a young Catholic monk who had stood up to the injustices of his day. The more the elder King learned of Martin Luther, the more he liked.

Upon returning to Atlanta, the Baptist pastor felt compelled to initiate lasting change in his life and in his world. He petitioned the courts for a change of name for both himself and his son. Michael King, Sr. and Jr. would be henceforth known as Martin Luther King.

King's 5-year-old son entered first grade with a historic name into which he would grow. It would prove to be a name reminding the "preacher's kid" of a destiny bigger than he could imagine. When tempted to give up, Martin would only need to recall where his new name came from and what it stood for.

I personally can attest to the power a name has to inspire. When my paternal grandfather immigrated from Greece and became a naturalized citizen, he surrendered his Greek name for an American one. Haralambos Asimakoupoulos became Harry Smith (an all-American name) in order to fit in with his new country. He married and raised six children. All Smiths.

All the same, this Greek immigrant pined for his homeland the rest of his life. Sadly, Harry was only able to return to Greece once before his untimely death in 1957. His son Edwin, who married and had two sons, was inspired by his father's heritage. Edwin didn't want his Greek ancestry to be lost. A year after Dr. King was assassinated, my dad legally changed our surname back from Smith to Asimakoupoulos.

For me, a name change was an invitation to embrace the culture of my grandfather by honoring the faith and values that defined his life. And for Martin Luther King, Sr. it meant much the same. A change of name signified a commitment to challenge injustice that continues to fly in the face of the Christian faith. It was a commitment his namesake maintained to his death.

And isn't it interesting that the 50th anniversary of King's death coincides with the 500th anniversary of Martin Luther's courageous protest of unjust Church?

• The Rev. Greg Asimakoupoulos is a former Naperville resident who writes regularly about faith and family.