They were two branches off the same Vine.
Designed in the Vine’s image, each a was unique expression of the nature of its Creator. One was tender and sensitive, with stunning intuitive wisdom. The other was strong and masculine, with a compelling view toward the horizon.
They loved being branches of the Vine. And they loved each other. But they’d cut themselves off from the flow of the Vine’s life. They believed the lie that they could thrive on their own. The result: An odd combination of life and death in the same form.
Form without flow.
Image without reality.
As they dreamed of a future together, they asked one another, “How can we shape ourselves so our offspring can know our love and be fruitful?”
The one, in her tender sensitivity, suggested, “I will build a nest of myself for my little ones to rest in. I will allow myself to be broken, again and again, so that I can be shaped into a warm, safe place. I will always be a refuge they can turn to, a shelter from the storm and a hiding place from the wind.”
“What if they take you for granted?” her partner asked. “And what will you do when they’ve left the nest?”
“My love for them is always greater than their capacity to understand or be grateful,” she replied soberly. “And my branches, though aging, will always welcome them home.”
The other had a different plan. “I will be formed into a bow,” he said. “I will form my offspring into arrows, capable of flying to distant places. Then I will offer myself to be stretched to my fullest capacity so that I may launch them to their place of destiny.”
“And what if, once you release them, they never return?” his partner wondered.
“My love for them is greater than my desire to control them,” he answered. “And my strength, though waning, will always send them forth.”
Time passed, and dreams died. After all, dreams always take on the character of those who possess them. Broken and separated, and helpless to do anything to change their plight, the Nest and the Bow surrendered to the curse of sorrow, hopelessness and futility. The only thing they despised more was the pathetic, distorted image of the partner they’d once dreamed with. All they had left to anticipate was their appointment with the fire.
Gathered up for the brush fire with others who shared their fate and waiting for their final verdict, they encountered a Stranger.
Strange because He looked so much like them both… tender, yet powerful.
Strange because He seemed so out of place. This was a brush pile, yet this One was so, so… alive.
“Who are you?” asked the Nest.
“I am the Branch, from the stem of Jesse,” He replied. “The life of the Vine flows through Me. A life of wisdom and understanding, counsel and strength.”
“And why are you here?” asked the Bow.
“The Gardener placed me here to offer you a Way,” He answered. “A Way to restore what time and death have taken from you. A way to experience the fulfillment of your deepest dreams.”
“And what will you make of yourself?” they wanted to know.
Suddenly, without warning, the hand of the Gardener plucked the living Branch from the pile and carried Him toward the fire.
“A bridge,” He called.
“I’ll be a bridge.”
Wow. I’m struck with love, gratefullness and understanding. Was this an original? If so or not..it’s genius. Thank God for you!
Thanks Lauren. Yes, it is.
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