So we’re driving on Sunday morning bitching about how during the week the you pray for ‘five more minutes’ but can’t sleep in on the weekends. I happened to mention that on Saturday morning we were woken up by “The Jehovos” doorknocking our street (we offered them morning tea because they are friends of ours, without us belonging to the Church. And from the backseat comes our son.
“What’s a Jehovo?”
I say “A Jehovah’s Witness”
“What’s a Jehovah’s Witness?”
I say “It’s a different branch of the Faith”
“Well, who’s Jehovah?”
Dad says “God”
Quiet silence.
“Why do they call Him Jehovah?”
Dad says “Because that’s what they believe God’s name is”
Quieter silence.
“Hmm. What if they’re wrong? What if his name is really … Dennis or something”
I nearly ran off the road. I love kids. 
But his pals call him “The Menace”. 
Very cute!
Besides, His name is “Harold”. You know: “Our Father, who art in heaven, Harold be thy name…” 
I think his name is Howard. Splitter!
Everyone knows His name is Andy. You know, like in that song.
Andy walks with me, Andy talks with me, Andy tells me I am His own.
My mother’s family included some Howards (the same Howard family as in William Howard Taft), and we use to call God Howard.
We were doing night-night prayers with my four-year-old daughter a couple of weeks ago, and I prayed for the dentist and the people who work with him. (I had an appointment the following morning.) Little girl frowned and said, “You’re only supposed to pray for real people, daddy.”
Then she went on to pray for Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and the rest of the Disney princesses.
I told the dentist office workers the next day that they aren’t “real people.”
RR
Well humph! It’s either a Catholic vs. Protestant thing or a regionalism (this was in PA where I grew up). Either way, I guess whichever one of us is wrong will be on a fast train to aitch-ee-double-hockeysticks 
Personally, I kinda like ‘Dennis’
To some people god’s name used to be Dennis.
Seriously.
The name “Dennis” derives from Dionysus, the Greek god:
And He drives an old Plymouth Fury…
Doesn’t the Bible yammer on about God’s Fury or something?
Wonder if it has a Slant-6?
Years ago I was teaching a five year old in Sunday School. She asked “Why is God’s name God?” We talked about other names we can call God. (I was thinking mainly of ones we find in the Bible, like Lord God and Our Father). She reasoned that God should have a name that isn’t a boy’s name or a girl’s name. . .“like Fluffy!”
[Monty Python]
“I didn’t know you were called Dennis”.
“Well, you didn’t bother to find out, did you!”
[/Monty Python]
Pffft. The Fury was a muscle car. Gotta have a V8.
And, spookily, “Dennis” is “Sinned” backwards …
I think God’s more of a title, anyway.
So far two out of three of my older brother’s names have been used in this thread as possible names of God, boy are you people way off base! At least you haven’t named the one whose demeanor was always more like that other guy who gave God so much trouble back in the day.*
By the way, every knows God’s name can’t be Harold, because that was what the angels are named.
*[sub]It’s always fun to pick on siblings when they aren’t around to defend themselves … unless they do post here! :eek: Great, now I’m going to get a virtual Indian burn.[/sub]
So God himself is so powerful he can create a world and all its delicate ecostructure and then drive a powerful gas guzzling ozone depleting V8. Then God is like a kid playing godzilla at the beach with a sand castle he spent all morning working on.
At least God isn’t driving a rice burner.
God Buys American Cars! Now that is an endorsement if I ever heard one.
I don’t think dentists are real people either.
Don’t forget the motorcycles.
I remember back in religious elementary school we had this one hymn that had the refrain…
“Abba, Father/Abba, Father/
I will never cease to looo-ooove yoooou…”
I have never yet since heard the Judeo-Christian deity referred to as “Abba”–at least not in mainstream American Christian culture–although I suppose it might be some Old Testament term. But I’ll be damned if I can dissociate it from those pesky Swedes long enough to suppress the mental image of a chorus line of angels singing backup in an almighty rendition of Waterloo.
I thought Clapton was God.