It’s fairly obvious to me why God assigned Adam the job of naming the
animals before He introduced him to Eve. When I think of how much difficulty
Darcy and I had just trying to name our four kids, there is no way Adam and Eve
could have pulled it off working as a team. They’d still be arguing.
"Hippopotamus."
"What? You’ve got to be nuts, Adam! That’s not a Hippowhatchamacallit.
It should be called a gerbil."
"Gerbil? No way, Eve. Besides, I’ve already used that name."
"When? On what?"
"Earlier this morning . . . round, chubby, little furry thing. Looked
like it would make a nice pet."
"That cute little brown thing I was playing with after breakfast? Come
on, Adam, that’s a Yak if there ever was one . . ."
See what I mean? Names don’t come easy. For some . . . maybe, but for
most, it’s one of the most agonizing parts of bringing a human being into
the world. It might not be on par with that bowling-ball-through-the-birth-canal
feeling a woman gets at that precise moment she gives birth, but it’s right
up there in the stress charts with moving to another country, color matching
socks in a dark closet, and getting your gums scraped. Even kids agonize over
naming their pets. That’s probably how we ended up with a male cat named,
Sugar, two fish named Bartyles and Jaymes, (both had a serious drinking problem),
a hermit crab named Delilah, and a dead dog named Cigarette, (we figured every
evening we could take him out for a drag). (Just kidding about the dog!)
I think parents should agonize over the name they assign to their child. It’s
got to last that child a lifetime. There are tons of people out there who wish
their moms and dads had put a little more forethought into what they finally
came up with. You might feel cheated because you shared the same name as six
other kids in your class at school. You might be a third or a fourth. You might
have one of those sophisticated sounding Soap Opera names or one of those rich
sounding "Gone With the Wind" names. Regardless, it’s your moniker,
your handle, your own personal logo.
Which is why we should all work overtime to protect its reputation. Our names
set us apart. They go before us and follow after us. They create an impression
in people’s minds and often command a conclusion about who we are. Those
conclusions are not drawn by the sound, or spelling, of our name, but by the
life that we’ve built around it. Darcy and I want our last name to always
be an asset to our kids. We want to live in such a way that when our kids attach
their first name to our last names, their stock value automatically goes up in
people’s eyes.
Why am I making such a big deal about a person’s name? Blame it on an
article I read in the paper the other day. It seems that after NationsBank and
BankAmerica merged to form Bank of America, folks in the newly formed corporation
wanted to roll out their new logo in as many ways as possible. There were 15,000
new signs and 32 million brochures that introduced their new red, white, and
blue logo to the United States. They put it on bumper stickers, hats, and T-shirts.
They even decorated cakes in the lobby of their banks with it. That’s when "The
Memo" came down from the grand whoop-ti-doos upstairs. "Please don’t
eat our logo!" It seems that they felt someone consuming the Bank of America
logo might undermine the sense of permanence they were trying to attach to it
in people’s minds.
It’s just my opinion, but I think they might be overreacting a bit.
Last time I checked, one of the great honors you could give someone on their
birthday is to decorate the top of a cake with their name, set it on fire; sing
them "the song," have them make a wish, watch them blow out the candles,
and then let them eat the piece with their name on it. I’d say that the
only way you’d actually be desecrating their name is if the cake wasn’t
very good.
If you’re really wanting to insure the permanence of your name, make
sure it’s written in the Lamb's book of Life (Rev. 21:27). All you’ve
got to do is hand the copyright or your name, and the life it represents, to…
"…the name that is above every name. That at the name of Jesus
every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every
tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." (Philippians
2:9b-11)
I’m fairly confident that He’s one Chairman of the Board who won’t
mind you eating your logo on your birthday. Bon Appetite!
On the Home Front with Darcy Kimmel
We have a No Whining rule in our home. Because this rule has been enforced
since they were babies, our children are under the impression that this is the
norm and not the exception. (I will have to deal severely with anyone who alters
this illusion!) I have a confession to make though. I broke the No Whining rule
the other night.
It was Friday night and Cody and Shiloh had gone over to a church friend’s
house for a combination surprise birthday and an any-old-excuse-will-do party.
Somehow (probably while I was on the phone), they had convinced me to let them
stay until 11:30pm and then come and pick them and a few other friends, who had
smarter parents, up from the party. When 11:30pm finally came, the last place
in the world I wanted to be was in the car headed for a house full of perky teens.
So I was whining.
After gathering up our group and all of their stuff for the fourth time and
finally heading for the car at midnight, I will have to admit I was not sharing
the enthusiasm of my talkative passengers. Little did I know that God had a lesson
for me as I dropped off these animated adolescents.
As we wound our way through neighborhoods saying good-bye to these friends,
we passed three other parties that were breaking up or maybe more aptly put,
disintegrating. Drunken teenagers, scantily clad girls and loud, profane boys
yelled and gestured to us as we passed them on the streets. Their parties would
end much later than 11:30pm and who knows how or when they would get home. God
spoke to me then about some of the tradeoffs in parenting. Raising good kids
involves a lot of hard work and the hours aren’t always convenient. But
if we want to encourage our kids to choose friends and activities that are honoring
to God, then we must be willing to go above and beyond the call of duty.
In just a few short blocks, my whining had turned into thanksgiving. I had
just had the privilege of driving my kids and their friends safely home from
a fun, wholesome party. I became convinced even more that the No Whining rule
is a good one.
Here’s to Late-Night Lessons and Talkative Teenagers.
