Too Many Rasmuses

"Did I ever tell you that Mrs. McCave
Had twenty-three sons and she named them all Dave?
Well, she did. And that wasn't a smart thing to do.
You see, when she wants one and calls out, "Yoo-Hoo!
Come into the house, Dave!" she doesn't get ONE.
All twenty-three Daves of hers come on the run!"
~ Dr. Suess

It took me quite a lot of time to learn who was who here at Vejlefjordskolen. One hundred and forty-three kids don't pose an insurmountable challenge, but when half of these kids have Danish noses and blonde hair, it can make things rather difficult. The names their parents chose for them doesn't help me much. One Lasse Christensen is enough to get your tongue around (if you choose to pronounce each syllable with Danish intonation), but four Lasses? This is to say nothing of the various Jespers, Anderses, Rasmuses, Camillas, Lines, and Josefines. Particularly when over half of them posses the last name of "Rasmussen." For clarity's sake, some of the kids have chosen to go by their mother's last name in order to maintain their individuality. This has worked to the benefit of several of the boys when they’ve been placed on the dreaded "Karantaene Liste." (quarantine: no female visits and no female visitors for two whole weeks! Oh horror!) Early in the school year, while I was roaming the precincts of my dominion, I recognized one of our several Kaspers lazing on the girls’ lobby couch. Noting that a couple of Kaspers had been posted on the dreaded list, I asked him in a warning tone what his last name was. When he gave me a "Juelshouj," and I saw that there were only a "Laustsen" and a "Souholm" on the list, I checked my initial impulse to kick him out and allowed the lazing to continue a while longer. It wasn't until later that I learned he had given me his mother's name when he had been posted under his father's name. Conniving little fellow.

With so many new names entering my vocabulary, I have had many opportunities to remember God's promise in the book of Revelation: "...and I will give him a white stone, and a new name written on the stone which no one knows but he who receives it." Rev. 2:17. This verse used to bother me remarkably. Why on earth would I want a different name? Petra Kingsley Houmann suits me just fine. Perhaps this is because I’ve only met one other Petra in my lifetime, and we’ve never been threatened with the prospect of crossing paths again. In the celestial city however, things will doubtless be much different. If I were to hear my name shouted from across a meadow in paradise, how could I be sure the summons was for me? And what of all the poor Rasmuses? They’d be sure to have a terrible time deciphering which call was for whom. Perhaps God is giving us new names for our own benefit.

I mentioned above that the name Petra Kingsley Houmann suited me just fine. However, something should be clarified: The name suited me just fine, until Paul handed me a new Bible as an early Christmas gift. On the cover in silver gild were embossed the words: Petra Houmann Howe. I immediately changed my mind about my name. Petra Houmann had been fine before. But Petra Howe was so much better. It meant that I would be leaving my former position as a “Miss” in order to claim the new title of “Mrs..” Paul and I would be spliced together as one entity, represented under the same name, living the same life. I can think of no happier way to go about changing names. Can this be part of God’s reason for giving us a new title when we reach heaven? He’ll be reminding us that we have attained a new status in our relationship with Him.

Heaven will not be the first place where God has changed the names of His faithful ones. The Bible states several instances, including Abram, Sarai, and Jacob. The case of Peter is particularly interesting in that it introduces the concept of “what names mean” into this lengthy dissertation. Petra means “rock.” Martina means “war-like.” Paul means “little.” Rasmus means “beloved.” In many ways these names do not exactly fit our personalities (certainly not the Rasmuses at school, poor chaps). The tradition of waiting to name babies until they have developed into persons has died out completely in the west, most of us are now named with titles that simply sound good. But what if we were to each have a name that not only sounded good, but also meant something good? Maybe this is part of God’s purpose in re-naming us.

Despite all of these interesting observations, there is still one part of the verse which might cause some confusion: “… a new name written on the stone which no one knows but he who receives it.” What good would a new name do me if I was the only one who knew it? My proposal to this mystery is this: perhaps the term for “know” is meant to represent the fact that nobody else has that particular name. For example, one can say, “she has a style that nobody else knows.” This does not mean that nobody else knows her style. They all know the style perfectly well, because they can see her wearing it. However, nobody else chooses to use her style. This is what makes her particularly unique. No one will know my name in heaven, meaning: I am the one and only person with that title. What a wonderful God! Even I, who used to name everything living or dead that entered my family’s household, would run out of names once I’d reached a hundred thousand saints or so. Only God in His infinity could have a special name for each member of His heavenly multitude. His creativity will not run out. There won’t be too many Rasmuses in heaven.