A culture of grace

Names are important, I believe. When I first learned, in junior high Latin class, that my name was also that of a Roman goddess (the goddess of the moon and the hunt, I was told), it had a positive effect on my self-esteem. At least temporarily.

Some people are named on purpose, after parents and beloved grandparents, after screen stars and presidents. Perhaps there are hopes involved. Perhaps this child will be like Grandpa Joe, or Grandma Ellen; perhaps this child will be president someday, or swing a bat, or sing arias.

Names are important, I believe. I love the name of my church: Grace. In fact, I think it is fair to say that I came here, at least in part, because they were a church named Grace. There were other reasons, of course: they have an amazing pre-school, for one thing. They love to study and said that they were hungry to learn more about God and faith. They worship in different varieties. They began a homeless ministry in their county.