The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep recognize his voice and come to him. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. After he has gathered his own flock, he walks ahead of them, and they follow him because they know his voice. John 10:3–4 NLT

Do you ever wonder what name Jesus calls you? Up until Sunday, I assumed that in John’s account of the Savior’s teaching that He would just use my regular name, Maria, to call me. But then I thought about all the whimsical and loving nicknames Mike and I have for each other, our sons and our cats. 

When I met Mike and started dating him, I called him Bear.  Not very original, I know. But then he became Punky Bear, and eventually Bear Chil’. (child, without the final D). He named me Bean, Monkey Bean, and finally Monkey Blossom. Now we refer to ourselves as Bean and Bear. Naming someone denotes love, connection and intimacy. 

I’ll spare you the extra names we’ve bestowed on our two sons and all the cats we’ve loved over the past 45 years of marriage.

Thinking about the God-man and Good Shepherd, why would He not name the sheep under His care?  After all, Adam selected names for all the animals God brought to him.  Believers, disciples of Jesus, are more than sheep that follow Jesus. We are also His little brothers and sisters.  Family members, with whom our Lord enjoys a loving and playful relationship. 

Could He perhaps have more than one pet name for each one of us, according to our moods and our actions? However many, each name communicates His commitment to our well-being. Furthermore, just as we are individually called, we are also blessed to know His voice.  

Maybe you, as I am, are finding that the more time you spend reading God’s history, His letters as well as instructions, that is the Bible, the better you can discern His voice. For sure, I’m learning to distinguish the Lord’s words from those of the thief whose name is Satan. As we learn from Scripture, this foul spirit seeks to blame, shame, separate and destroy us. He has no love for us. And he calls us ugly names.

Wondering about what name Jesus calls me has made me think of the one and only pet name I had as a little girl. My grandmother Mimi lived with us until she died when I was 22.  And she used to call me, ‘Maria Baby Ball’.  (My middle name, Ball, comes from one of my southern ancestor’s surnames.) I cringed as an older child when she used that name. But now I see it for what it was, a sweet way to communicate delight and  closeness to her grandchild whom she loved.