The word of God, when properly taught, and then understood, believed and lived to deal with life, is beautiful to behold. When the word is taught in categories, it gives us individual pieces of the puzzle. As we accumulate more pieces, we can assemble them together to see the big picture of God’s plan. As we understand more about God, His plan and how the human soul fits into the plan, we are able to discern finer distinctions within the complexities of life to make more accurate applications. Whenever I see believers who have devoted their lives to growing in the word face overwhelming adversities with confidence and poise, gratitude wells up in me toward God for giving us so much grace for life, death and eternity.

Recently, I was blessed to witness my friend and brother in the Lord, Gary Horton face such an adversity. His 8-year-old grandson was killed in an auto accident. Shane was the only child of Tammy, Gary and Ruth’s only child, making him the only child and only grandchild. He was a central figure in their daily life and their love for him would be hard to overstate. His loss to them is the loss of a central figure in their daily life.

What I wanted to share with this short article is the way they handled the memorial service that I attended. They scheduled a service to celebrate his life and his new life in heaven and the family did all the speaking.

After a short introduction by Pastor-Teacher Ron Adema, Ruth Horton spoke about her remembrances of Shane. I was told that the night before the memorial that she didn’t believe she could do it. She was incredible! Both her honest, transparent demeanor that suffered and rejoiced at the same time and her words were full of God, full of truth and seasoned with love for the unsaved. She gave a gospel that was inspired. Her humor also seemed Spirit led and gave us all hope in a difficult situation. She called on others in the audience who knew Shane and they shared stories about his kindness and faith in Christ.

Following Ruth there was heartfelt music by Bobby Joiner a wonderful friend to Gary and then Gary spoke. He made the statement that he was seldom at a loss for words but this was one of those times. His message was limited to simply reading pertinent scripture and the hope they conveyed lifted us all. Another beautiful song by a friend was followed by the surprise of Tammy herself standing and speaking words of love and encouragement to all of us. She had not planned to speak, believing she would be unable to talk without breaking down. In her grief, she was moved to remind us all about God’s goodness and grace to those who trust Him. The service was closed out by all of us singing Jesus Loves me, with the words, yes, Jesus loves Shane, yes, Jesus loves Shane.

Seeing this faithful family give praise to honor Christ in the midst of their great suffering provides evidence to the reality of God in their hearts. If you have been to funerals where the family does not believe in Christ and they have no hope for the future, you know how depressing that is. In stark contrast, when you see a family of well taught, faithful to live it out believers celebrating the promotion of their loved one into the presence of the Lord, you walk away inspired to love and trust God. I want to honor Gary and his great family with this article and thank them for sharing their hope with us all that day. They are the real deal and they proved it the day they remembered Shane.

God knows your name

Isaiah 49:16 “Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands;

This is by Max Lucado
WHEN I SEE a flock of sheep I see exactly that, a flock. A rabble of wool. A herd of hooves. I don’t see a sheep. I see sheep. All alike. None different. That’s what I see.

But not so with the shepherd. To him every sheep is different. Every face is special. Every face has a story. And every sheep has a name.The one with the sad eyes, that’s Droopy. And the fellow with one ear up and the other down, I call him Oscar. And the small one with the black patch on his leg, he’s an orphan with no brothers. I call him Joseph.

The shepherd knows his sheep. He calls them by name.

When we see a crowd, we see exactly that, a crowd. Filling a stadium or flooding a mall. When we see a crowd, we see people, not persons, but people. A herd of humans. A flock of faces. That’s what we see.

But not so with the Shepherd. To him every face is different. Every face is a story. Every face is a child. Every child has a name. The one with the sad eyes, that’s Sally. The old fellow with one eyebrow up and the other down, Harry’s his name. And the young one with the limp? He’s an orphan with no brothers. I call him Joey.

The Shepherd knows his sheep. He knows each one by name. The Shepherd knows you. He knows your name. And he will never forget it. I have written your name on my hand (Isa. 49:16).

Quite a thought, isn’t it? Your name on God’s hand. Your name on God’s lips. Maybe you’ve seen your name in some special places. On an award or diploma or walnut door. Or maybe you’ve heard your name from some important people—a coach, a celebrity, a teacher. But to think that your name is on God’s hand and on God’s lips . . . my, could it be?

Or perhaps you’ve never seen your name honored. And you can’t remember when you heard it spoken with kindness. If so, it may be more difficult for you to believe that God knows your name.

But he does. Written on his hand. Spoken by his mouth. Whispered by his lips. Your name. And not only the name you now have, but the name he has in store for you. A new name he will give you . . .

When God Whispers Your Name is a book of hope. A book whose sole aim is to encourage. I’ve harvested thoughts from a landscape of fields. And though their size and flavors are varied, their purpose is singular: to provide you, the reader, with a word of hope. I thought you could use it.

You’ve been on my mind as I’ve been writing. I’ve thought of you often. I honestly have. Over the years I’ve gotten to know some of you folks well. I’ve read your letters, shaken your hands, and watched your eyes. I think I know you.

You’re busy. Time passes before your tasks are finished. And if you get a chance to read, it’s a slim chance indeed.

You’re anxious. Bad news outpaces the good. Problems outnumber solutions. And you are concerned. What future do your children have on this earth? What future do you have?

You’re cautious. You don’t trust as easily as you once did.

Politicians lied. The system failed. The minister compromised. Your spouse cheated. It’s not easy to trust. It’s not that you don’t want to. It’s just that you want to be careful.

There is one other thing. You’ve made some mistakes. I met one of you at a bookstore in Michigan. A businessman, you seldom came out of your office at all and never to meet an author. But then you did. You were regretting the many hours at work and the few hours at home and wanted to talk.

And the single mom in Chicago. One kid was tugging, the other crying, but juggling them both, you made your point. “I made mistakes,” you explained, “but I really want to try again.”

And there was that night in Fresno. The musician sang and I spoke and you came. You almost didn’t. You almost stayed home. Just that day you’d found the note from your wife. She was leaving you. But you came anyway. Hoping I’d have something for the pain. Hoping I’d have an answer. Where is God at a time like this?

And so as I wrote, I thought about you. All of you. You aren’t malicious. You aren’t evil. You aren’t hardhearted, (hardheaded occasionally, but not hardhearted). You really want to do what is right. But sometimes life turns south. Occasionally we need a reminder.

Not a sermon.

A reminder.

A reminder that God knows your name.