My last name has created some awkward moments. A woman said, “Max Lu-KAH-do, I’ve been wanting to meet you.” I let it go, thinking that was the end of it. But as she introduced me to a number of her friends, I smiled and cringed, unable to maneuver my way into the conversation to correct her without being rude. But then I got caught. A man said to me, “My wife and I’ve been trying to figure out how you say your name. Is it Lu-KAY-doh or Lu-KAH-doh?” I looked over at my friend who had been mispronouncing my name — I was trapped. I answered, “Lu-KAH-doh, I pronounce the name Lu-KAH-doh,” I told her. May my ancestors forgive me.
How can God be both just and kind? How can he redeem the sinner without endorsing the sin? It’s called the Cross of Christ, and that’s one phrase you want to say correctly.
