The Vine of All Living.

 

In the mists of early morning, in the garden beyond the border, there under the wings of the angels, I peered. 

A beam of sunlight struck the minuscule droplets of water, and in a burst of vapor dissipated the veil before my vision. There in glorious beauty, I beheld the magnificent Vine. 

No ordinary vine was this before me. In all my knowledge-seeking I'd never been able to watch a vine writhing in growth, twisting and bringing forth new shoots even as other shoots withered and began their slow descent to the ground. 

The dying tendrils caught my eye, momentarily distracting me from the myriad of newly budding shoots. Before any of the dying shoots, broken off from the Vine, could touch the mossy floor below they turned to dark, thick dust, and wind swept them away. Not a single withering slip of decay ever touched the earth, it simply vanished.

Quickly my attention returned to the constant new growth, intermingling with the continuous release of the non-viable tendrils and it was a sight unlike anything known to me before.

Nature beyond this angel guarded garden simply had never shown us such a wondrous Vine as this, Vine of all Vines. We'd been allowed glimpses of such wonders. A plant whose flower would bloom only once a hundred years, a plant whose flower opened fully for only a single night, a water shoot growing twelve inches in one day… yet all these marvels could not compare to this Vine. 

This was the true Vine of all living, of all who had ever lived, and all who had ever died. Each offshoot of bearing life kept its promise of living even when it no longer grew- there attached to the Vine in a state of suspended growth- it would never die, rather forever be a part of this wondrous Vine.

Each offshoot of death left its tiny pockmark in the Vine for now, a testament to a life that could have been. 

All the tiny tendrils newly shooting forth were growing either towards life, or towards death. 

As I bore witness to the growing vines I noticed that many of them, if not all, were writhing each in their own almost agonizing way. I longed for a closer inspection of those living tendrils and even as I leaned inward I felt a sudden heat surround me. Daring to look upwards, I gasped as the glowing swords of the angel guardians ignited into flames of the most brilliant fire. I knew instantly this was a mere warning. I would only be allowed to catch glimpses of this majesty before me, not enter within the garden, not cross the border by even a hairsbreadth  

Leaning back, the instant relief from the glowing fire above rushed over me. As sweat beaded down my forehead and dotted my cheeks, I knew how close I had come to my own end should I have dared to move any closer. 

Yet the struggle of the tiny vine shoots beckoned my attention. Those living tendrils branched outwards from the vine pushing from within them something, but what? Were those fruit?! The tiny bits of golden nubs dotting a tiny branch here and there, fruit? Oh, how those struggling shoots were tormented by some unseen force! They struggled as they chose life, clearly longing for something, perhaps a promise of what they would one day become.

A heavy weight dropped upon my heart, but only for the briefest of moments. The weight then lifted, taken from me, as the story's end flashed into realization, a memory from the past.

Being allowed this brief vision of truth I knew that all I'd been told of the Vine long ago would come to pass one day. 

As the lore passed down through time unwound its tale I knew the Vine would not bring forth new shoots forever. One day the last tiny tendril would come forth from the Vine, and then all that would remain would be for each tendril still growing to compete its life cycle- choosing death or life. When the decision for each was made and the very last slip of life was decided, then and only then would the Vine bring into being the everlasting blooms promised of the Vine. All the sleeping branches of the Vine would once more spring to full life obtaining their ultimate end of eternal flowering along with every single living shoot attached to the Vine. Such beauty! Such wonder! How miraculous that would be to behold! 

To see the Vine of All Living. Such a gift I'd been given. As the vision clouded before me and I fought drifting downwards into a deep thought-less sleep, my lips curled in a soft smile, I would remember this dream. And I did.

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Joh 15:1  I am the true vine, and my Father is the husbandman. 

Joh 15:2  Every branch in me that beareth not fruit he taketh away: and every branch that beareth fruit, he purgeth it, that it may bring forth more fruit.