Say Lord

Faith is not a rational proposition.  The nature of faith is to believe something that cannot be proven.  However, once one starts from a foundation of faith, having made that one leap, it is rather important that one build with consistency and rationality in mind.  In the ideal situation, one recognizes the leap and then seeks to move forward.  This is where I think people of faith have an advantage: in recognizing that they have made some assumptions about very important matters.
The other fork in the road: holding only to objectively verifiable truth, is constantly stymied by the limits of knowledge and perpetually challenged when those boundaries are crossed.  It is actually, I think, transference of those frustrations onto people of faith that creates a certain sense of superiority in those who have "cast off the superstitions."
It is always a surprise, but never a shock when I discover that God was bigger, more beautiful or more complicated than I had previously expected.  As the Scriptures move from the realm of aboriginal tales explaining the nature of things (creation, fall, Cain and Abel, Babel, Noah and the flood), and into a more concrete history, we are introduced to Abram, son of Terah, whom God calls to strike out on his own to a new land.  In the course of the journey Abram is given a new name: Abraham.  God gives him the name, God gives him a promise, a covenant actually, and God gives him a son: Isaac, through whom is born Jacob, who will be given the name Israel (which is not entirely complimentary).
For a long time, the Creator is known by his association with this family: the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God of Israel.
This is a dramatic increase in specificity.  When God speaks to Moses at the burning bush, this is the identity that is used, and new bit of information is given, the actual Name of God: YHWH, which was sacred and unspeakable to the Hebrew people, but which is founded on the Hebrew verb "to be," which is why when Moses asks Gods name, God says, "I AM."
Not speaking the actual name became quite a thing: they marked the tetragrammaton with the vowels of the word adonai, which means Lord.  So, as you read through English translations of the Bible you are likely to see LORD with unusual capitalization, that's because the actual word used there is too holy to speak.
The title of Lord is not really popular in modern talk, but for much of history it was a common thing to call anyone in a position of honor: Lord, or my Lord.  So the Hebrew Scriptures go the extra mile: they say "the Lord, your God," quite often, and prophets are beholden to use the formula: "Thus says the Lord," or "I am the Lord your God," to distinguish when and what God is saying to his people.
There are three major world faiths that all identify the God that Abraham called Lord, as the one true God.  Christianity and Islam have dwarfed Judaism, but the genetic descendants of Abraham are still hanging around, and are still important players on the stage of history, even if their numbers are relatively small.
In taking on the title of The LORD, the Creator has gotten intimately involved in a very messy story.  The name has been used as a weapon, and the common core belief in the One True God, has done very little to hold people of faith together.
This is one of the big reasons why so many vague pantheist systems can mount such a challenge to the big three: because it's easier and neater to believe that God or gods are just kind of "out there" in the universe, benevolently detached, just waiting for us poor creatures to reach out and "phone home."
It takes more faith to look at the twisted, violent, blasphemous, and terribly specific story and find a God with an identity.
When you get specific and use the Name of the LORD, you are invoking a very particular relationship, and very particular Being.  It is a statement of trust that that Lord is good and that the universe is founded on something other than random violence: that something is love, and love is where the story really gets interesting.