Name Calling

Kids, as well as adults, can be brutal when it comes to name calling. Early in life, one that came my way was simply “punk.”

Now, sometimes someone can act like a punk. Squealing on a buddy would get you called a punk. Reminding the teacher that she forgot to assign homework would get you labeled as a punk and might require you to fight your way home. But most of the time, kids were called punks simply because they were the tag-along younger brother. If that’s the case, I was a punk growing up, and I guess I’m still a punk.

Growing up in the ’70s, people were called turkeys. Turkeys were just goofy, foolish kids. We all knew people who were dumb-dumbs, goobers, crybabies, know-it-alls, and show-offs. There were also a lot of other names that aren’t fit to print.

If we think back real hard, there were probably times when we could have worn most of these names. Yes, I’ve been a dumb-dumb and a goober. Still am at times. Was I ever a crybaby? My mother used to drop me off every morning at daycare, and I would stand at the fence and cry every morning. How could she love me…and just leave me?

I’ve gone by Trub. This was the name my dad called me up until the day he died. In case you were wondering, it’s short for trouble.

Trouble?

I claim that I was misunderstood. I don’t think Trub was meant as an insult. I think it just shows that my dad had insight and wisdom. He knew when I was up to something. What some people might call mischievous, I simply referred to as testing my boundaries. When I crossed the line, he was always there to “lovingly” correct me. We were deep-water Baptists, but on more than one occasion he “laid hands on me” and spoke in a tongue I couldn’t make out. So the name Trub stuck.

In addition to being called a son, I was also a brother. The youngest. The baby.

I always thought I was the favorite child…because my mother told me that. But one night, I heard her telling my other brother that he was the favorite. She was just trying to make him feel better. I knew the truth.

Having brothers, you learn things. You learn what to do, what not to do, and how to do things you shouldn’t do and get away with it. I learned from my oldest brother that after getting worn out by my dad and being asked if he was going to do whatever the offense was again, the proper answer is not, “Yes, if I get a chance.” It’s better to learn from other people’s mistakes than your own.

Later in life, I took to being called a husband. This is a title I never thought I would own and, for many years, one I never wanted. But at 33 years old, just like the Lord at 33, I laid down my life.

Husband is the sterile name.

When I’m being a punk or a know-it-all, my bride refers to me as “Sweetie.” This sounds nicer than it’s intended. It’s just a word she can use rather than calling me what she really wants to call me. It requires less confession than the ones floating around in her mind.

One of the greatest names I’ve ever been called is Dad.

There are few things in life that are better than hearing my girls call me Dad. There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for my girls. There are things I’ve wanted to do but haven’t been able to do. But I’ve tried…and tried. Sometimes it’s just good to know that somebody needs you.

What may surprise many people is how often the Bible tells us what someone was called. For instance, in James 2:23, Abraham is called a friend of God. In Acts 4:36, Joseph is called Barnabas, “The Son of Encouragement,” by the apostles. In Acts 11:26, the followers of Jesus were first called Christians. In John 1:42, Jesus tells Simon that he will be called Cephas, or Peter, which means rock.

Think back to some of the name calling you have endured. Think now about some of the names you are called by. Now, think about what you are called by the Lord. Are you His child? Are you called a member of His family?

Those are names worth keeping.

Don’t try to earn those titles. Just accept them from Him.

Thank you for reading. To find other devotions and stories like this go to www.scottsullivanwrites.com