Name tag with the new name God gives us in baptism. The new name is 'Child of God,' and all baptized people have that new last name, meaning we are all in God's family.

There was a sheetmetal foreman from South Milwaukee-the real Milwaukee, the one in Wisconsin-on one of my jobsites. Whenever some complex construction problem was brewing, Drew would begin his warning by saying, "Just so you know." To this day, when I hear, "Just so you know," I know something big is on its way. That's how God begins Samuel's first message as a prophet. "Just so you know." God just uses Biblish so it sounds more religious. Nothing was going to change, Samuel had no task to carry out, God was just telling Samuel the judgment about to take place. "Just so you know."

Well, this is Epiphany season, the time of year when the texts point to revelations of God. Sort of theological just-so-you-know. But the conversation with Nathanael seems to be the just opposite, unless you count the part about Jesus knowing things about Nathanael that no one but God could know. Which, as it turns out, is Nathanael's cue to decide this itinerant preacher is the Son of God.

That's a leap, isn't it? We've all been in situations where some total stranger rushes up calling you by name, gushing about how good it is to see you again. "Who is this person?" you wonder as you desperately run through names of old classmates. Or you are introduced to someone, who grasps you warmly by the hand saying, "I've heard so much about you." It's that sympathetic look that gets to you, the saccharine tone, the half-knowing little smile.

It was unnerving to Nathanael, too. He is recognized, described, and his only real choice is to follow this guy to find out what it's all about. The thing that makes me so uneasy is that this is what happens to us. Jesus' call always comes at our most intimate level. We are so known to Jesus. There are a million ways that he makes it clear that he already knows us. There are a million ways that God does to us what he did to Samuel-calls us by name. The worst of it is, there is no controlled, managed, guaranteed, risk-free way to find out more. We can't just blow it off. We must follow to find out more. Nathanael recognizes Jesus' super-natural trick of seeing and knowing him before he's physically around, and Jesus tells Nathanael, "You ain't seen nothin' yet. If you think that's great, follow me and I'll show you even more amazing things." We are known by name and for who we are, and when we follow Jesus, that means we are not in charge. Who knows what will happen next!

This is not what I want to hear about on a Sunday morning. I want to be uplifted, blessed, encouraged, comforted. What I don't want to hear is that I can run, but I can't hide. If we are honest with ourselves, we have to admit that there are times when God is trying to get our attention, but we ignore the hints. "I can't know that," we say to the uncomfortable nudge. Sort of like my cousin hearing a loud sort of pinging/thumping noise as she drove, so she turned up the radio to drown it out. That worked until the piston finally shot through the hood. We can turn up the ambient noise-distract ourselves or drown out God insistently calling our names. Full calendars (I'm too busy to read the Bible), or unvarying routines (I serve on too many committees to teach Sunday School). We can decide that God only speaks to us in certain ways--reading only the gospels only a few verses at a time, never in a disciplined way, following a study program, but never Christian writers or even the epistles. Or we've given God permission to speak but only on Sunday morning in worship-certainly never through serving on session or teaching or singing or doing volunteer work, or as we sit in class or do homework or dishes or yardwork or visiting shut-ins--. You get the picture. Not in ordinary life! Remember the joke about the shipwrecked guy praying for God to rescue him, but sending away the helicopter and rescue boat, convinced that God would save him? He perishes, of course, but when he gets to the pearly gates, he chides God about failing to save him. God replies, "Who do you think sent the helicopter and the boat?" Who do you think learns the most in Bible study groups-the students or the teachers? Who is most blessed in prayer groups-the prayed for or the pray-er?

Here's a risky example of God speaking in an unorthodox way: through mission work. I can't tell if you are responding "Ho-hum!" or "I'm outa here!" I don't know what else to call it, but when folks helping at food banks or homeless shelters or free clinics see families and individuals in trouble, more often than not they first tell me, "I thought I had it bad!" Then they skip over the "they," about "poor people" in general, and they light up with stories-about the kid who laughed for joy or the man who told about his garden during World War II or the disabled man who coaches the bowling team or the courage of the mother who needed a job. That is God calling your name, friends. That is Jesus inviting you into ministry. Who is most blessed-the person who gets a box of food, or the person delivering the groceries?

God's means of calling us are not as limited as we like to believe. Few of us will hear our name called in the night, as Samuel did. Many of us, however, find ourselves wakening in the very early morning hours day after day. It's regular enough to be an appointment. Have you ever asked, "What do you want?" In seminary, most of us were awake around 4 AM daily, and it wasn't because we were holy. It was God time, all right, but it was not at our initiative. Just a little face time with the One we follow, sitting together long enough to listen. Sometimes the only time God can get a word in edgewise is when everyone else is sleeping.

By virtue of your baptism, friends, you are already called by name. You are already known by your God. In detail. Just so you know. The really big thing that comes next is the question, will you follow? As I thought about the daily-ness of this question this week, I remembered a popular prayer. It's so popular, someone wrote a book about it. It's the prayer of Jabez. The author has taken an obscure prayer, tucked into a boring genealogy account in 1 Chronicles, and developed a theology. The Biblical prayer reads, "Oh that you would bless me and enlarge my border, and that your hand might be with me, and that you would keep me from hurt and harm!" In the daily-ness of deciding to follow Jesus (and it's always daily), I would encourage you this Epiphany season to change Jabez's prayer just a bit. Instead, pray, "Oh that you would enlarge the boundaries of my heart, and that your hand might be with me." God always honors our desire to expand our relationship-both with God and with each other. God always honors our desire to be with God, to learn more loving acts and more obedient ways. Just so you know. God knows you by name and asks you to follow. You've got Jesus as a concrete example. Say yes, and continue to pray, "Oh that you would enlarge the boundaries of our hearts, and that your hand might be with us."