WEEKLY DEVOS

  It’s been five years now since Marilyn and I sold the home we’d built in the 70’s (all but the foundation and structure…with our own hands and with a little, ok A LOT, of help from some of our dearest friends and family). The home in which we raised our sons,...

  “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you guys this,” our youngest son, now a grown man went on to explain, “but one day after school my buddy and I were riding the four wheeler in the woods with no helmets, jumped a crude ramp we had built and flipped over. We were...

  Looking past me and into the distance, as though reading from a non-existent cue card, my friend uttered a phrase common to my aging ears, “Life used to be simpler”. I get it. Looking back, I agree life was not as complex as it is today. Nor was it as busy. I...

  It’s a wintry morning as I write and the news teams on TV are all atwitter over a couple inches of snow. At this very moment, an ‘on location’ reporter is standing in front of a municipal garage dressed like Nanook of the North attempting to dramatize two...

I grew up in what must have been a galaxy far, far away. You’re not going to believe this, but there were no Super America’s or Circle K’s, no big box stores and no malls. Our little world was without many of the conveniences we take for granted today…like where to...

I stood on the precipice of an exciting new frontier as my toes edged closer and closer to the broken asphalt and beyond the safety of our hilltop driveway. “Ronnie, get back from the road,” my older brother warned. He remained aloof—it wasn’t his first day of school; he was a case hardened seventh grader; he knew the ropes. He, along with David the second-eldest, played the bored card—hanging back and doing their best to appear cool. I, however, couldn’t contain my excitement! My feet had developed a mind of their own—shuffling forward while my attention focused like a laser beam on the distant road straining to hear the familiar drone of school bus #4 driven by Mr. Fisher.

deIt was September 1955—my first day of school. Tom, the oldest, had been thoroughly briefed and sternly assigned to safely accompany me onto the bus and into my first grade classroom.

I loved the way his big, seventh grade hands felt on my shoulders as he carefully guided me through the crowded halls until, with a gentle shove, he released me into Mrs. Hoover’s first grade classroom. Transfixed on the teacher, I vaguely heard him announce, “Here’s my little brother. It’s his first day.” Mrs. Hoover, a tall grandmotherly woman, pleasantly smiled and directed me to a desk. I scanned the room of wide eyed six-year-olds and perhaps for the first time realized I wasn’t the only ‘first-day first-grader’. I turned toward the door and realized Tom was gone.

Mrs. Hoover wisely seated us alphabetically—a system about which I had only recently become aware. You see, this was 1955 and kindergarten was still a future development for public schools. We were, as they say, ‘blank slates’. I don’t remember much about the rest of that day. However, the most dramatic moment was yet to occur—roll call.

Mrs. Hoover greeted us and then instructed us to respond “here” when we heard our name read aloud. She began reading from a little black book, never raising her head but merely peering out over-top her glasses after each carefully pronounced name. I loved the military regimen of it all. It seemed so grown up, so official.

“Jeffery Groves?” “Here!” “Marvin Grubb?”….she read my name, but I didn’t respond. She repeated it a little louder. I looked around, waiting for someone to respond. She repeated it again, more precisely and even louder. Still no response.

Tucking the book under her chin, she walked to my desk and asked, “Marvin, when I say your name you should say, ‘Here!’” I thought, “Marvin? My dad’s name is Marvin…I’m Ronnie.” She persisted, “Isn’t your name Marvin? Or do you prefer to go by your middle name Ronald?”

The conversation that followed unleashed an adventure in my life that few first graders ever get to experience. She continued, “We can call you either Ronald or Marvin. Which do you prefer?” I remember thinking, “Marvin…that’s cool because that’s my dad’s name. It sounds so grown up.” I believe the next word came out of my mouth involuntarily, “Marvin!”

Talk about a red letter day! It was not only my first day at school, it was my first day with a new name…boy oh boy!

And Marvin it was right up until I graduated Berne Union 12 years later. I was Marvin at school and Ronnie everywhere else.

As a youngster, I considered it a great pleasure bearing my father’s name. It empowered me and even motivated me to be more like my dad.

Although that’s an old story, it was a new beginning for me in many ways and reminiscent of stories found in the bible where we read it was common for people to be renamed based on their relationship with the Heavenly Father.

“No longer will you be called Abram; your name will be Abraham, for I have made you a father of many nations.” Genesis 17:5

Abram’s name was changed to Abraham and his wife Sara’s name was changed to Sarah. Jesus changed Simon’s name to Peter which means ‘rock’—a picture of the firm foundation he became in the early Christian Church.

With the passing of another year, it’s common to make resolutions. It’s also a great time to recognize that as people of faith we carry the name of Jesus with us. That’s why we’re called Christ-ian. My prayer for 2016 is that each of us who humbly bear that name will bring honor to His name. RG

Read Ron’s column, Simple Faith, each Saturday on the Faith Page (page 3) of the Lancaster Eagle Gazette, or visit www.lancastereaglegazette.com.