Remembering What's Her Name
When Melva visited our church in Virginia for the first time, I thought she said her name was "Nova." I thought of Nova Scotia and said, "It's nice to meet you, Scotty." She was known by that name in our church from that time on. She was a sweetheart.
Diane was a delightful young lady in our church in Ohio. After a year or so she said to me, "I have been meaning to tell you that my name is not Diane."
"You’re kidding," I said.
"No," she said, "It’s Ruth."
In that church also, a young lady tutored me that her name was not "Joe-wis."
"It's not?" I asked.
"No, it's Joyce, one syllable, pronounced 'jois.'"
One evening during a Wednesday evening Bible study in our West Virginia pastorate, I was beginning an overview of the book of Genesis. I said, "Adam and Eve had three sons, Cain, Abel, and Seth."
"What were the names?" I quizzed. Varied voices answered correctly. "Good!" I said.
Continuing, I said, "Noah also had three sons, Japheth, Shem, and Ham."
"What were their names?" I asked.
"Japheth!" someone answered. "That’s good!" I said.
"Shem," another called out. "Very good!" I applauded.
For a moment it was silent.
"So who was the third son?" I asked.
To my left, I saw a dad whisper into his spunky little girl's ear.
"Baloney!" she called out.