OK – so I wasn’t so nice over the holidays to Caitlin’s boyfriend, Cory, but that’s my job as a Dad right? Make sure any suitor is as uncomfortable as possible, right? The poor guy waited patiently for his sweety (and mine) to arrive back from England and then was ever present at the house for the three weeks she was home. That’s OK – I enjoyed the company but after awhile I decided to test him out and see what he was made of. So I made a point of calling him by everything but his right name every time he came over.

At first it was Corky, and then Corny, and then it was Colby (Caitie’s Big Cheese) and I have to admit – he never batted an eye but rolled with it each time (maybe born out of desperation to be with Cait.) And like I said before – I admit it – I wasn’t very nice.

You’d think that someone who spent all of grade 9 as “DONNY” MacKinnon for a teacher who couldn’t be corrected no matter how often my classmates or I tried, (although I did feel some sense of vindication when he got mad at a class one day and spat out his dentures), might be more sensitive to wrong names.

You’d think someone, whose nickname through High School was “Goose” (as in the goose that laid the golden egg because when our team would needed a hit to keep a rally going in baseball you could count on me striking out), would be more sensitive.

You’d think that someone whose nickname in university was “The Hawk” (because the Dalhousie Library was a hollow centred, square, glass building where you could see inside each floor and where I would start on the inside top floor and slowly circle downward until I found someone (girls were especially nice) to talk to so I wouldn’t have to study), might be more sensitive to getting a name right.

You’d think that someone whose nickname was “Carson” after two weeks of staying at the Browns because of the sound I made when I blew my nose, (named after the William Carson, the Newfoundland Ferry that used to pull into North Sydney harbour with a great blast of its steam horn) might be more sensitive to getting a name straight… BUT I wasn’t.

So …What’s in a name? Everything! Our identity, genealogical history, individuality, sense of self…. It’s significant! The old proverb used to say: “Sticks and stones can break my bones but names will never hurt me” but the truth of the matter is names/words can wound deeply, sometimes for a lifetime.

Maybe for that reason Jesus, knowing how life in this world can test you and beat you up said in Revelation 2:17 “I will also give him a white stone with a newname written on it, known only to him who receives it.” It’s a name given by someone who loves us dearly, died for our sins, rose for our justification, and lives for our intercession; a name that expresses the story of our lives and his deep love; a name so special, so personal it is about the only thing in the universe that is left a mystery in Kingdom of God. It’s between Him and his child. That’s what’s in a name – LOVE. Jesus has a name for each of us – It probably won’t be Corky or Colby – it will be a healing name that expresses our victory in Him; a name that expresses His love and the tenderness with which he holds us. I pray that we all may begin to hear the whispers of our dear Saviour as we become familiar with His voice and His name for us.

PS. to Cory, Cory: derived from the Germanic first name Godfrey (God's peace), and may have been encouraged by the Gaelic 'cuairteoir' (visitor). May God’s peace be on you – you are always a welcome visitor, even when Cait’s not home! Blessings,