Your Name

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you, I have called you by name, you are mine.”  Isaiah 43:1

I have always had problems with my name because my parents called me by my middle name instead of my first. That was never a problem in my tiny town because everyone knew my name was Diane. I’ve had other nicknames  – my Daddy called me “Pal”, my Mama called me “Sugar”, my cousins call me “Di”, Randy calls me “honey” most of the time, to my children, I am “Mom”, and to my grands, I am “DeDe”.   During my first year at Georgia, I had to become accustomed to answering to my first name, Susan.  It was tricky at first, but I adjusted.

I thought I was pretty good at it until I became Randy’s wife, (Mickler is a challenge to pronounce), and on top of that, a minister’s wife!  During our first two associate appointments, my name was not really that important – after all we were just that – associates.  I liked not having attention called to my name, but things really changed for me when we moved to the Newborn/Starrsville charge, my first “first lady” event.

People here loved and respected their minister, and they looked upon us as a sort of “holy family” if you will.  They had no problem calling Randy by his name, but they seemed to want to endow me with names of their choosing.  I learned to answer to, “Mrs. Preacher,”  “Randy’s wife,” “our Minister’s wife,” and  “Mrs. Mikeler”.  I always loved introductions because people would say, “Please meet Randy, our minister, and his wife.”  It was then up to me to say, “Hi, I’m Diane.”  It really didn’t matter because they would call me whatever they chose.  Although I probably never would admit it, I found myself resenting it.

There was a special man in the Starrsville church whose name was Guy.  I sat in front of Guy every Sunday and every Sunday, he greeted me with “Mornin, Mrs. Preacher.”  I always called him by name and responded.  One Sunday, I was having a bad day, and when he said “Mornin’, Mrs. Preacher,” I turned on him.  “Guy,” I said, “I have been sitting in front of you for almost two years, don’t you think you could call me Diane?”  He looked stunned, but then he said, “Well, I could, but you never told me it was all right with you!”  What a huge assumption on my part, but a lesson learned.  From that day forward, I always said, “My name is Diane.  Please call me by name.”

I am so glad that God knows us by name, and that He doesn’t wait for us to tell Him that it is all right to use that name.  He uses our name as He blesses us, forgives us, and uses us.  Thank God for our names!