One Sunday morning as I was on my way to church, I noticed a big, bright billboard. Billboards, of course, are meant to be seen. The point of a billboard is to be eye-catching, but this one caught my eye for a reason. As far as billboards go, it was actually rather plain. No beautiful models, no cute little kids, no funny cartoons. It was just one big sentence with the name of the business in the lower right hand corner. I don’t remember the name of the business (some finance company), but I do remember the words emblazoned across the sign.

The message they were trying to convey is clear. They were promising to have a more personal relationship with their customers than other similar businesses. You would be more than just an abstract account on their computer. They would actually know your name!

Now the reason this sign got my attention was because at first I thought it was quoting a Scripture verse! I even twisted around in my seat to see what it actually said. It was that phrase “call you by your name” that was so familiar. It’s found in Isaiah 43:1.

These words are spoken by God. Here in Isaiah, He is speaking to Israel. The context of this verse is one of reassurance. He begins this statement with a “fear not” and then encourages them with the knowledge that He knows them! The intent of this sentence is the same as the sentence on that billboard. It’s a declaration and a promise of a personal relationship. Just as God knows the name of Israel, He knows your name, too.

Often in Scripture, when God spoke to people He addressed them by their name. From the little boy Samuel to the zealous persecutor Saul, God called them by their name. Knowing someone’s name and using it makes a connection with that person. It’s a personal thing.

I have an unusual name. It’s almost one of a kind. I say ‘almost one of a kind’ because I have occasionally seen my name in print. And I did actually meet another Velva Jane. (That’s my full name. As a child I was called Velva Jane and my sister was Iva Jean. Cute, huh? So I had to chuckle the day I discovered a “Velva Jean” book series.) Anyway, I mention my name, because it can be a problem. I have been called Velma, Velda, Belva, Velvet, and even Barbara! When someone gets my name right, I am quite pleased and surprised! How pleased I am that God knows my name! He doesn’t get it wrong. And the fact that He knows my name implies so much more. It means He knows me!

The verse in Isaiah also speaks of an intimacy. God declares “you are mine”! This is why He calls us, and this is why He calls us by our names. He wants that intimate, personal relationship with us. He knows us and loves us as individuals. When He calls us by our name, we should answer. We don’t need to fear having a relationship with a God who knows our name.

Let’s get personal with God.

Horton is a hero! The Horton I am referring to is, of course, that large, lovable elephant in the classic Dr. Seuss book, Horton Hears a Who. It’s a cute and fun fantasy of a story. But what makes this particular book so special is that within its whimsical pages is a message. There’s a moral to the story and it’s what makes Horton a hero.

The story begins with Horton and a small speck of dust. The startling thing about this speck is that a teeny, tiny voice is coming from it. Perhaps it is because of his huge ears that Horton is the only one able to hear it. Upon closer inspection he discovers a whole new world on this little piece of dust, a place called Whoville. The Whos of Whoville are in danger and afraid. Horton with his big ears and big heart promises to keep them from harm. And there begins the battle! Since none of the other creatures can hear the Whos, Horton is mocked and the inhabitants of Whoville really are in danger of being destroyed. Many lessons can be taught from this tale. It shows the importance of responsibility, keeping your word, and standing alone in spite of what others think.

There are two quotes from the book that stand out to me. You are probably familiar with them as well. Horton expresses his concern and philosophy by saying, “A person’s a person, no matter how small”. The other quote is found near the end of the book. As the Whos get desperate to be heard they gather together and cry out as loud as they possibly can, “We are here, we are here, we are here”! It is in these two well-known lines that we can find what I consider the main message of this story.

When I think about the statement, “A person’s a person, no matter how small.”, my mind goes first of all to the smallest of persons, that is unborn children. These little ones are so easily dismissed and destroyed. Perhaps because they cannot be heard, the value of their existence is denied. I wonder though if there is a silent cry imploring, “We are here! We are here! We are here!” Now I know that Dr. Seuss was not dealing with the abortion issue when he wrote this book, but the principle of his message applies, and it is true and good and right.

There are other small persons we need to consider. These are not necessarily small in size or stature, but in significance. When we speak of significance, we view it from our perspective. There are no insignificant people to God, but by society’s standards, many people appear to be unimportant. We know who these people are. We know of them, but we don’t know them. We hear about them, but we don’t hear them. They are the needy and the neglected, the disabled and the dysfunctional, the homeless and the hurting, the failures and the forgotten. They are neighbors and strangers. They, too, are longing to be heard. There’s a line from a chorus that goes, “Open our ears, Lord, and help us to listen”. Certainly it is unrealistic for us to think we can respond to them all, but perhaps if we really, really listen we will hear the cry of that one “small person” we can help.

Horton is the hero of our story not just because of what he did for the Whos of Whoville, but because in the very beginning, he took the time to listen.

Do you hear a who? If so, who do you hear?

My mother was not quick to throw things away. Not that she was a hoarder, but she made good use of the things she had. I remember one day in particular standing in her kitchen, looking in her cupboard for a mug for my hot tea. (We often shared a cup of tea together. It’s from her that I got my love for tea.) As I saw a number of worn, chipped mugs, I looked at them disparagingly and thought to myself “Mom, why don’t you throw these old things away and get some new ones!” I didn’t say it, but I thought it.

Then came the day I am standing in my own kitchen and looking in my cupboard for my favorite mug, the one with a big chip in it! And suddenly I understood my mother. I didn’t want to throw that old mug away. I loved it. I wanted it. And I could still use it.

Sometimes I feel like an old mug. I am faded and worn. (As I get older, perhaps ‘worn out’ is a better description.) I am not perfect and have a number of flaws. I may even have a few chips and cracks. And sometimes I feel like I have been used up and no longer useful. Does anyone else feel that way?

But guess what? This old mug belongs to God! In fact, I think I am one of His favorites! He is not going to get rid of me! He loves me. He wants me. And He can still use me.

Yes, I do have an old mug. And so does God.

Ten years ago my daughter suggested I do a blog. She knows I like to dabble with writing and thought this would be a good outlet for me. She even set me up on WordPress and I quickly called it Mug of Hope. And it’s been sitting dormant ever since, waiting for me to write something!

A little over a year ago, my husband suddenly passed away. Cardiac arrest. His heart just stopped. And so did my life. At least that’s how I felt. Our lives were so intertwined. We had been married for almost 48 years and served in the ministry together. We worked together as we pastored the churches we served. We raised four children and were enjoying spoiling the grandkids. Also, because of my disability, which is degenerative, I was becoming more and more dependent on Paul. He did so much for me. I knew that now my life would never be the same. Among the many questions I had was what kind of ministry would I have now. No longer the “pastor’s wife”, no longer living next to the church, and unable to drive, what would I do now?

Then I remembered this, the blog. And I realized that now is the time for Mug of Hope. But this blog will not just be about me. My desire is to share thoughts of encouragement and inspiration from the Word of God and day-to-day experiences, to give hope when things seem hopeless. So grab your favorite mug of coffee or hot tea and join me here to share a Mug of Hope together!