I have called you by name. You are mine.
These are God’s words through the prophet Isaiah. God speaking through the old prophet. Today psychologists would agree with God’s name recognition.
In Chicago I was introduced as a seminar speaker. The director murdered my name. He did the same the second day of the seminar. I assured him he was not the first person to mispronounce my name. At least he tried.
Lonely and grieving over our son’s death, I walked the streets of San Diego looking for the golden arches. I didn’t realize that city ordinances forbid the ten foot markers. About to give up, I heard my name with a New Zealand accent. It was my friend Rex. I hopped in his rental car. He took me to the four foot arches and we enjoyed breakfast together.
I have somehow reached the age when I struggle to remember names. I use all kinds of associations and memory tricks, but I often draw a blank. Embarrassing!
I wonder. Does God remember my name? I want to believe He does when I read the 43rd chapter of Isaiah (Old Testament Bible).