It was a strongly contested topic.
Known as The Lane of Lagoons, many protested that this long, winding road should be titled with the more palatable words: “Redwood Lane”. And thus, many spoke of it by this name.
“More romantic.” Said one author who had written an essay on the topic.
A professor well-known for his worldly wisdom, said it was “more decorous”.
And there were others who just shrugged their shoulders. They had no plans to walk it, so why should they care? It was someone else’s business.
The pleasant-sounding title was more visually appropriate during the day. The idea of a marsh, wet land or lagoon was a foreign language rather than a common understanding for those who walked this way in the light.
Netted with thick green foliage above, and filled with tall, round trunks, the lane wound for miles among misty woods, framed in the ornate designs of throbbing melodic notes from feathered hearts.
It was at night, however, that one could begin to foresee that “The Lane of Lagoons” wasn’t an altogether foreign title for the wooded area.
Many sought to avoid it.
Others tested the first mile and turned back.
Still others pretended and lied that they had traversed the place and knew it well—“even in the dark” they boasted—assuming that having memorized it in the light, that they would know it in the dark.
There were just a select few that claimed another title for this dense wood.
They called it …The Lane of Suffering.
And they, the wise and humble, little-heard few, the ones the King remembered as His own, knew that what the popular brave only boasted of in the daytime, would find its testing in the night.
They, the ones who had been there, did not boast.
Because they knew what was in the dark.
And then there was Emily.
Emily was born like a star in the middle of a field of daises and sunshine. With talents overwhelming her senses, she was a young girl in a world of possibilities.
One day very early in her life, she decided to take the road less travelled. The one that was designed by the King. A hidden road, through a small, narrow gate.
At first, everything was new. Even pleasant. It was hard work journeying along this way, but it was rewarding, and Emily rejoiced in the journey.
Then, Emily began to run.
Then she tripped.
Ran again.
Tripped again.
But got up and kept going.
She was called.
She was going to change the world!
And she wasn’t going to stop.
Several miles down the road, she noticed the sky getting darker.
“Must be a thunder storm coming in. And night’s coming on.”
She brushed a hair away and smiled—though it wasn’t as brave of a face as several miles back. “I’ll keep going.”
Moments later, Emily stumbled into Redwood Lane. Or, shall we say The Lagoon Lane?
Thick darkness lay like a heavy blanket over the trees and everything but the large trunks seemed to be moving with a sense of restlessness. Even the birdsongs held notes of unease, worry and fear.
Grumbling thunder painted messy slobs of coming threats overhead. Leaves tossed into each other like an overwhelmed crowd surging forward in no particular direction. Squirrels darted across the road ahead—visual representations of the scattered fears Emily felt.
What had happened?
It wasn’t …well, it wasn’t supposed to be like this, was it?
She had heard rumors of these woods and they mostly were not good ones.
Should she turn back? Give it all up?
Slowly, slowly, Emily walked deeper and deeper into the woods. All was thick and dark now and she couldn’t really see.
Suddenly a thunderous clap made her jump and scream, her head knocking hard into a tree. Gasping for air, Emily fell to the ground and covered her face with her hands.
“I can’t do this. This is too hard. I thought I was going the right direction, but maybe I missed a turn. This is too dark. This is too scary. I can’t do this.”
And beginning to cry, Emily whispered a prayer. “My King, help me, I pray.”
At first, all was silent, except for the continuing tossing of leaves and background rumbles of the storm.
And then, Emily saw it. A light.
“Hello?” She called, swallowing her pride in her desperate need for help. “Help me, please!”
“I’m here.” A young girl appeared, coming forward and kneeling next to Emily. “Oh,” her words were sympathetic, “you’re hurt badly. Here, let me help.”
With gentleness and the care that only comes from one who knows, the young woman bandaged Emily’s head and gave her some water.
“Thank-you.” Emily whispered. “I was about to give up. How did you come?”
“The King sent me.” The young woman’s smile made her face light up—a radiant reflection that looked like the lamp she held.
“But why? You seemed to know just what to do.”
The young woman looked down for a moment, tears filling her eyes. After a pause, she looked up with deep compassion. “Because last year …I was you. Right here.”
Emily smiled a broken smile, a light beginning to sparkle where despair had once tried to claim victory.
“And your name?”
The girl smiled. “My name is Josephine.” Patting Emily’s shoulder, she encouraged, “Who is like our King? He knows what each of us need.”
And that night, Emily began to learn the lessons of The Lane of Suffering. For that was its oldest and truest name.
And every day, those that have passed through its lanes are called to care for those behind them.
But sometimes, there were not as many lights in the darkness seeking to minister, because those who were called to light their lamps and go help others, preferred to forget the unpleasant memories of their own experiences.
Others preferred to stay on the outskirts of the Lane because it felt more comfortable to be miserable in the dark than to comfort those who needed the light.
Others simply perished in the dark, never asking and never receiving the light. And thus were unable to fulfill their calling of ministering to those who needed them.
Others made it through–stumbling hard in the dark without accepting or finding any light and these went on to offer other solutions besides the light. Alas, these were some of the most destructive …not only to themselves but also to others. Offering a seeming solution that blinded one to the real need and the real answer.
And then others, the faithful, picked up their lamps, found within the scars of suffering, and brought light to those in need.
And Emily? She found that often the greatest callings lie directly in the path of The Lane of Suffering. This place of trouble was actually a terrain of teaching. Teaching her what she needed to know for the work up ahead. And she learned to care. To pick up her lamp and carry it to those who, like her, needed a light in the darkness.
And when the King sent her …she went.
Through the ages of time, the Lane continues to be mislabeled, excused, forgotten, made an end-in-itself, laughed at, scorned and fought. But no matter it’s name, it continues on. Ever to be a part of the world until the end.
And it is only those who travel on this lane with their hearts turned to the King, who are able to find the treasures of the darkness, redeem the tears of pain, and light a fire of hope …for all who come behind.
“Blessed be God, even the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies, and the God of all comfort; Who comforteth us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort them which are in any trouble, by the comfort wherewith we ourselves are comforted of God. For as the sufferings of Christ abound in us, so our consolation also aboundeth by Christ. And whether we be afflicted, it is for your consolation and salvation, which is effectual in the enduring of the same sufferings which we also suffer: or whether we be comforted, it is for your consolation and salvation.”
2 Corinthians 1:3-6
