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As the children come up to the front of the sanctuary, I place the posterboard face down in front of me. Following my usual practice, I begin with a question.

"Does everyone here have a name?" This brings laughs and giggles as the children nod. Of course everyone has a name! At this point, with a small group, I will ask each child to tell me her/his name.

"Have you ever forgotten someone's name?" Several children indicate they have. "How did that make you feel?" I ask.

"Dumb!" Nancy responds.

"Embarrassed!" offers Matt.

"Once I forgot my OWN name," says George, causing more giggles.

"Has anyone else ever forgotten your name?" I ask him. He nods affirmatively.

"How about the rest of you? Has anyone ever forgotten your name?" Several more children acknowledge this experience.

"How did that make you feel?" I question.

"Like I wasn't very important ..."

"Like they didn't recognize me ..."

"Like they didn't care about me ..."

"And how do you feel when someone remembers your name?" I continue.

"Good!"

"Yes, it feels good to have someone remember our name, doesn't it? Our names give us identity. Our names tell us we are somebody; we exist.

"Did you know that God knows the name of every one of you?" This brings everything from assured nods to looks of surprise.

"And we know lots of names for God, too, don't we? What are some of those names?"

"Father!"

"Lord!"

"Creator!"

"God!"

"Jesus!"

"Love!"

Out of the mouths of children ... And then one little girl of about ten really gives me a surprise.

"Yahweh," she says quietly. I know immediately that this child has been paying attention in church or Sunday School or both.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" I find myself responding to each reply. "Yahweh!" I repeat in startled wonder when it is pronounced by the girl. I reach down in front of me to pick up the posterboard.

As the children look at what I have written, they look puzzled. "This looks funny, doesn't it?" I ask. They nod.

"Why?" I question.

After a moment's thought, one of the older children says, "There aren't any vowels."

"That's right," I tell her. "The Hebrews didn't use vowels in their writing very often. This is an English translation of the Hebrew letters they used to write 'Yahweh,' the name of God."

"After a while, the name of God became so sacred that the Hebrews wouldn't even pronounce it when they were reading scripture. They would substitute the name 'Adonai' instead. 'Adonai' means 'Lord.'

"Well, what have we learned together this morning?" This is always a risky question with any group, but perhaps particularly with children because they tend to be so honest.

"We've learned the name of God," Jerry responds.

"And what is that name?" I ask the group, holding up the posterboard for all of them to see.

"Yahweh!" a number of them reply.

"So, we've learned the Hebrews' name for God was 'Yahweh.' What else have we learned?" An uncomfortable silence follows.

"What if I call you the wrong name or can't remember your name?" I ask.

"Oh, yeah!" Marian says, "I like for you to know my name and not mess it up when you say it."

"And if I did mess it up, what would you do?"

"Tell you how to say it right!" she assures me. And I have no doubt she would.

"Are you telling me your name, your correct name, is important to you?" She nods vigorously.

"In fact, each of your names is important to each of you, right?" I ask the entire group.
Numerous little heads bob up-and-down affirmatively.

"Sometimes we get down on ourselves. Sometimes we don't think we're worth much. If that ever happens to you, I hope you'll remember that you are important to God. In fact, you are so important, and God loves you so much, that God knows you by your very own name."