Named

John 11 is the story of Lazarus. Take a moment to read it. Jesus’ dear friend had died. And Jesus wept — he was so sad. But then he did something no one expected. He went to the tomb and called into the dark, “Lazarus, come out!” And Lazarus came out. Jesus called his name and made him alive again. I was wondering about that, what it means for you and me, and I talked it over with my good friend Little Barty Badger, who told me this story.

One day, as the legend goes, the Squirrel was traveling with Barty through Old Raven’s Forest on the way to the Feast where he was going to eat a bunch of good food and then learn his true name! Barty said they were still a few days away, but they would be walking along the edge of the Dark Forest. No animal in there ever came out. The Squirrel had to keep his eyes on the path.

That’s when they heard it, from the darkest part of the wood, a small voice: “Heeelllp.”

Barty stopped. “Old Turtle,” he said quietly. “He must have wandered in.” 

Barty began thinking, the way he did, sizing up the problem. But the Squirrel had already made up his mind. He had learned from Barty: Adventurers Always Help. Without another word, in he went.

It was darker than he expected. The shadows were thick between the old trees, and the sounds from the path faded quickly. But the Squirrel kept his ears sharp, and he followed Old Turtle’s voice until he found him — stuck in a tangle of roots.

“Oh good,” said Old Turtle. “I was hoping someone would come. I always wanted to see the other side of that tree.”

The Squirrel worked quickly, getting Old Turtle loose. He pointed him toward the sound of the path. “That way,” he said. “Keep going, don’t stop.”

Old Turtle trundled smiling off without a backward glance.

The Squirrel turned to follow. But every direction looked the same.

He was lost in the Dark Forest. No one ever came out of the Dark Forest.

The more he moved, the more lost he became. The heavy quiet settled down. The shadows pressed in. He sat down at the base of an old tree and felt very, very small. He guessed this was the end of his adventures.

And then — a sound. Soft. Far away, but perfectly clear. Someone was calling a name… his name. Not shouted. Not worried. Just spoken gently, the way you say the name of someone you’ve known a long, long time.

“Esquilo!” (It sounds like 'es-KEE-o')

He knew it was his name even though he had never heard it before.

“Esquilo. Come out!” It was Barty Badger!

And Esquilo — because that was his name — got up and followed the sound of it. Through the heavy shadows, past the old close trees, back toward where the light grew warmer and the air smelled like regular forest again.

And there was Barty Badger, sharing a plumb with Old Turtle.

“There you are,” said Barty, calmly happy.

“How did you know my name?” asked Esquilo.

“I’ve always known your name,” he said simply.

“But I didn’t know it,” said Esquilo.

Barty smiled. “That’s all right. I did.”

He handed Esquilo a plum, and the three of them sat together in the good kind of quiet. Then Barty got up, and they all got back on the path toward the Feast.

Well, that’s what the legend says, but I know one thing is true: we are always known, even in the dark.