THE NEW NAME
the name your folks gave you when you were born. Don’t you?” “ Unless you are born again, and then you may have a new name.” Miss An derson smiled as she looked into the little girl’s puzzled face. “You talk funny,” said Priscilla Sue. “You aren’t a Christian, are you?” said Miss Anderson. Priscilla Sue hung her head. She didn’t want to talk about things like that. Once Ann had spoken to her about it, and it had embarrassed her. “ Listen, Priscilla Sue,” Miss Ander son said, “while I read you something.” She opened her Bible to Revelation 2:17 and read, “ ‘To him that overcometh will I give to eat of the hidden manna, and will give him a white stone, and in the stone a new name written, which no man knoweth saving he that receiveth it.’ Would you like to know how to re ceive your new name, Priscilla Sue?” The little girl’s face lit up. “ I’d do almost anything for a new name,” she said. “ But you said we only get one when we are born again. How could a person be born again?” “ Once long ago a man came to the Lord Jesus and asked Him just that thing,” said Miss Anderson. “ Shall I read you what Jesus said?” She turned to John 3 and read to Priscilla Sue the Nicodemus story. When she came to “How can a man be born when he is old?” the little girl shrugged her shoul ders. “ Of course they couldn’t; anybody would know that," Priscilla Sue com mented. But Miss Anderson read on, and when her quiet voice repeated, “ For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have ever lasting life,” Priscilla Sue interrupted her excitedly: “ Read that again,” she said. Miss An derson did. “ Is God like that?” ex claimed Priscilla Sue. “ Does He give away everlasting life?” “He certainly does,” said Miss An derson. “ You couldn’t get it any other way.” She turned back to John 1:12 (R. V.) and read, “ But as many as re ceived him, to them gave he the right to become children of God, even to them that believe on his name.” “ Oh, Miss Anderson, if I were a child of God, then would I be born again?” asked Priscilla Sue. “ That’s right,” Miss Anderson replied. “ And if I were born again, then could I have a new name?” “ That’s right.” “ Oh, please,” said the little girl, ‘‘I want to be a child of God. Tell me how.” “What does the verse say? Read it yourself—it is to ‘as many as received him.’ If I offered you a gift, would you know how to receive it?” “Why, sure. I’d just reach out and take it.” “ God is offering you a gift—the gift Page Fifteen
By Helen Frazee-Bower
P RISCILLA SUE knew that she would never be able to live it down. Back in Miss Dale’s select boarding school, she hadn’t minded her name so much. In fact there had seemed to be something almost distinguished about the sound of “ Priscilla Sue.” All the other girls had names like Caroline, and Grace, and Lena—just plain names; but hers was rather “high-sounding,” she thought. But up here in camp it was all different. The girls had looked at her strangely when she had told them her name yesterday upon arriving. One had even mumbled, “ I would hate to have a name as funny as that.” But the climax had come this morning at the breakfast table when some one had called “ Prissy, pass the prunes.” Could anything be worse than that? Prunes were bad enough by themselves (her mother never made her eat them at home), but when you put “ Prissy” with them, the result was positively nauseating. (“Nauseating” was a word she had learned just last week, and even in the midst of her concern, she remem bered to be proud she had used it cor rectly.) If they had even said “ Susie,” it wouldn’t have been so bad. At least “ Susie” had some character. “ Susie” sounded like a girl who knew what she wanted and would go after it. But “ Prissy” ! “ Prissy” was terrible. She remembered, with a wave of horror, that it rhymed with “ sissy.” Why had she come up to this church camp anyway? She knew now she was not going to have a good time. They were not her kind of people. The girls in Miss Dale’s boarding school would never have called her “ Prissy”—she was sure of that. But she liked Ann so much. Ann had moved next door to her, and Ann was a Christian. Priscilla Sue didn’t know exactly what a Christian
was, but it seemed to make Ann a very nice person. So Priscilla Sue had begged to be allowed to come to camp when the invitation came through Ann. Now she wished she hadn’t. “ Prissy, pass the prunes” kept sounding in her ears. She knew she would never be able to live it down. Suddenly two big tears welled up in her brown eyes, and Priscilla Sue buried her face in the lovely ferns at the stream’s edge, and broke into un controlled weeping about her name.
“Could I have a new name?” asked Priscilla Sue.
“My, my, what is going on here?” It was the voice of Miss Anderson, a camp counsellor, as she stooped to gather Priscilla Sue into her arms. “ Are you homesick, little girl?” “ Oh, no, Miss Anderson; it’p not that. It’s my name.” “ Your name? What’s happened to your name?” “ Nothing at all,” sobbed Priscilla Sue. “ I wish something would. I still have it, and I am just beginning to realize what an awful name it is.” Then she unfolded the whole story, ending with, “ How would you like to have some one say to you, ‘Prissy, pass the prunes?’ ” Miss Anderson quickly hid her amuse ment, and she kept a sober face as she answered, “ I guess I wouldn’t like it either, Priscilla Sue. How would you like to get a new name?” Priscilla Sue sat up and stared at Miss Anderson. “ Really?” she asked. “ Could I? I thought you had to keep
By Martha S. Hooker
S E P T E M B E R , 1 9 5 2
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