What's in a Name?

On my way to teach a class yesterday, I listened to the beginning of a sermon on a radio. The preacher discussed the faithfulness of Abraham and questioned how many of us, in his place, would follow God without questioning Him, especially if God asked you to do something so contrary to reason or if what He asks appears to go against a promise He previously made.

“Kill my son? The one you promised? But you said my descendants would be as numerous as the sand on the shore?”  Even though child sacrifice was common in the cultures Abraham lived in, killing the promised son, the promised inheritance made no sense. Yet, without question, Abraham planned to do as told, no questions asked. What faith!

Do I have faith to follow, no questions asked?  “Not I!” I mused.

This familiar take on a familiar story directed my thinking, in a round-about way, to the names of God, and to nicknames in general.

I have many nicknames for my dog. Rarely do I refer to her by her given name, Bailey. Rather, I call her Sugar Bear, Love Bug, Baby, Baby Bear, Stinker Butt, My Heart, My Love, Love. And, what’s so great is that she responds to them all!

I, too, have several nicknames. My nieces and nephews, and a few others, call me Ne-Ne (soft e sound). My parents sometimes call me Re-Ne (hard e sound). My sister often calls me Kiddo. When I was a kid, my dad called me Pumpkin Head. I, too, respond to these nicknames.

God has all kinds of nicknames as well. I once took a class on all the names of God, names used to describe His character. I forgot most of them, but some I remember, such as Elohim (strength), and Adonai (Lord, Master), El Shaddai (all-sufficient one, or almighty). He is also known as The Light, The Word, I Am, Giver of Life, etc.

I most often call Him Father. I sometimes call Him Daddy, but Father is my favorite.

However, after contemplating my lack of unquestioned obedience, I realize that I over use another phrase when speaking with Him. The way I use this phrase, it almost sounds like a nickname:

“Yeabut

Get it?

I question way too much! I will give you a for instance. When I started to feel like He was calling me into ministry, I doubted a lot.

I sat in the sanctuary during the opening service of district assembly. I was in awe of the worship of all the pastors and lay leaders in attendance. I referred to them as “they.”

“I don’t want you to view them as ‘they.’ I want you to be one of them,” God said.

I was pretty sure I knew what He was getting at, but still, I responded, “Yea, but . . .”

Several times during the course of the weekend, I felt that nudge. At first, I embraced it, but as I thought about it, and saw all the reasons why this was not a good idea, I responded, “Yea, but . . .”

“I want you to be a pastor.”

“Yea, but, I’m divorced and I’m a female. Can I really do that?”

“If I am the one calling you, don’t you think I will work that out? Don’t worry about the details.”

“Yea, but I really don’t want to be a preacher. I don’t want to be a youth pastor. What else would I do?”

“Don’t worry about that right now.”

“Yea, but seriously, I’d really like to know what you have planned. I mean, I really don’t have any interest in going back to school. I mean, I still have all this debt. I don’t even make enough money to pay my monthly bills. How am I going to afford going back to school?”

I imagine God sighing. “Don’t worry about that right now. I am calling you. The rest are just details.”

“Yea, but come on. I’m not like them. What are they going to think? I don’t have a game plan other than that you want me to be a pastor. For what? What do I tell people? I mean, look at my track record. I’ve spent my whole life grabbing at straws. Get excited about something, try it, decide I don’t like it, move on to something else. Won’t people see this as just another one of my silly amount-to-nothing ideas?”

“So? What if they do? I’m the only one you need to answer to. Don’t worry about anyone else.”

“Yea, but what if they are right? What if I talk to Pastor Matt, or Pastor Tim, or Pastor Robert? Then, I decide this isn’t for me, that I heard You wrong and I end up quitting. I don’t want to let them down.”

“I am calling you,” He stresses. “Don’t worry.”

“Yea, but . . . not yet. If I still feel like this is really You calling me when I get home, then I’ll talk to Pastor Robert.”

I go home and try to forget about it, wanting to assume I was merely caught up in all the excitement of the weekend. However, during my prayer time, He calls me again.

“You are home now. I am still calling you. It’s time for you to call Pastor Robert.”

“Yea, but how do I really know it’s You and not just me thinking it would be cool to be a pastor. If this isn’t from You, there is no way I’m going to do this. Being a pastor is a huge deal, and I do not want this responsibility if You are not 100% in this.”

I can sense His frustration with me, but He is kind and understanding. He sighs and laughs as I ask for one more sign. “I know this is asking a lot, but give me one more sign, something I cannot deny is from You, something so obvious that it leaves absolutely no doubt in my mind that You are, indeed, calling me into ministry.” In jest, I suggest He have my dad tell me to be a pastor. After all, my dad rarely ever gives me unsolicited advice.

Later that day, I saw a dirty water stain on the floor in the shape of the cross. I shake my head to heaven. “Yea, but that’s not good enough, I need something more definite.”

On into the afternoon, Bailey and I were sitting outside. A red bird lands near us, is very still, and stares at me. “Okay, that is pretty cool,” I admit. “Red bird—love. Staring at me so intently. You are love. You are trying to get my attention, but . . . I need something more. That’s not good enough.”

What gall to tell God something He does is not good enough. I felt like we were playing a game, like He was teasing me, but on the other hand, what if all this was just in my head? What if God wasn’t a part of this fantasy?

That evening, my dad invited me to dinner with him and his friends. On the way home, we talked about work. Out of nowhere he said, “Why don’t you just become a pastor? That’s pretty much what you do anyway?”

Thank God we were pulling into the driveway. Thank God I was driving. Thank God I had sunglasses on. I brushed off His comment, not ready to share with my dad my inner struggle. However, my heart jumped into my throat.

I pictured God laughing. “Ha! Check mate!” There were no more “Yea, but” arguments left.

As soon as we got inside, I sent Pastor Robert a text and the journey began.

Have I ceased referring to God as “Yeabut” since finally accepting His call? I wish I could say “of course,” but the truth is, I still question God . . . a lot! Thankfully, even though I have rarely had the faith to obey without question, He still loves me, and never gives up on me. He tolerates my unique nickname for Him. After all, I am still a work in progress!