Well, his name's totally pyromaniacal... mostly totally...

by Dan Phillips

Haven't the time to finish baking the things I have on-tap, so I'll shamelessly vanitize this to say

Happy birthday,

Josiah!

My middle son, Josiah Paul Julien Phillips, was born 17 years ago today, at 35 or 6 to 4 in the morning. It was one of the very happiest days of my life. You know, after the terror and all.

Josiah was first-named after the king who rediscovered the Word of God, which transformed both him and his culture (2 Kgs. 22). He was middle-named first after the great apostle, whose life was given to knowing Jesus Christ and making Him known, for all he was worth (Phil. 1:19-21; 3:8-17); and second after my dad, a dear and incredibly capable man, and just about the most unstoppable man I've known.

So Josiah's full name was both a prayer and a parental aspiration, as must have been the case for godly parents over the many millennia.

I could go on and on (Readers [unkindly]: "You already have"), but let's bring the vanity to a crescendo with something aimed at giving the birthday boy a smile:

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