{"id":583,"date":"2015-09-21T14:06:59","date_gmt":"2015-09-21T20:06:59","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/pastormathis.com\/?p=583"},"modified":"2015-09-20T22:47:05","modified_gmt":"2015-09-21T04:47:05","slug":"a-dream-of-reformed-unity-in-denver","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/pastormathis.com\/index.php\/2015\/09\/21\/a-dream-of-reformed-unity-in-denver\/","title":{"rendered":"A dream of Reformed unity in Denver"},"content":{"rendered":"

Last night in the depths of my slumber, a vision washed my eyes with images of peace, purity and unity\u2014an ocean of Reformation and Revival flooding the wicked state of Colorado.\u00a0 In that dream an immense wasteland, embraced by the fiercest mountains of blackness, filled my vision.\u00a0 As a stared at the vast desert, a small sapling drew my attention.\u00a0 It sat in the middle of my sight: small, withered and frail.\u00a0 It wavered to and fro from the gales of the desert; it doubled over from the pounding of the sun; it cried out for relief from its thirst.\u00a0 Although most irrational to my waking mind, I was inundated with vast feelings of sorrow and mourning: would that struggling tree survive the crucible of its existence?<\/p>\n

Time moved without remorse.\u00a0 The sun\u2019s anger was not abated and the winds never rested.\u00a0 Yet, to my amazed eyes, the tiny tree refused to die. But it\u00a0did not grow.\u00a0 I was in grief, wondering aloud, \u201cwhy?\u201d\u00a0 \u201cWho will preserve this precious sapling?\u201d<\/p>\n

A small, gentle voice emanated from nowhere, yet from everywhere: \u201cI will.\u201d<\/p>\n

As an agitated child is comforted by his loving father, so my soul uncoiled from its state of tension and fear.<\/p>\n

At that moment, I noticed something in the distance: awkward in movement and unsightly in form, the man scurried toward the plant\u2014 with trepidation I cried out, \u201cno!\u201d\u00a0 But as he shuffled closer to my eyes I noticed that he was caring for the plant.\u00a0 A shelter was constructed.<\/p>\n

But the plant still did not grow.<\/p>\n

Time\u2019s relentless pace never abated.\u00a0\u00a0 Another man, draped in filth, crawled toward the plant.\u00a0 This time I was cautiously optimistic.\u00a0 He pushed passed the other man, saying, \u201cthis is how you do it!\u201d Razing the shelter, he poured fertilizer around the sapling.\u00a0 \u201cGood,\u201d I excitedly thought.<\/p>\n

But the plant still did not grow.<\/p>\n

I was devastated.<\/p>\n

Time did not stand still for my grief.\u00a0 Another man, unclean and unshaved, scurried toward the plant.\u00a0 This time I numbly watched his unskilled efforts, expecting little.\u00a0 He pushed passed the two men, proclaiming, \u201cNo, I have the skills to make it grow!\u201d Kicking the fertilizer into the air, he poured water into the parched ground.\u00a0 \u201cAh,\u201d I thought, \u201cnow it will grow.\u201d<\/p>\n

But the plant still did not grow.<\/p>\n

Dumbfounded, recoiling from the bullet that was reality, I bemoaned the fate of this precious sapling: \u201cWho will preserve this precious sapling?\u201d<\/p>\n

A small, gentle voice emanated from nowhere, yet from everywhere: \u201cI will.\u201d\u00a0 And I beheld a wonderful sight: the vagabonds eyes swelled with tears and each man helped the other: one built a shelter; another fertilized; and another watered.\u00a0 Then, I beheld a greater sight, a transformation of miraculous proportions: growing, ever so slightly, the sapling expanded into an oak tree so vast that it shaded the entire wasteland.\u00a0 Moisture was restored, grass flourished and life returned.\u00a0 Baptized in joy, I was ecstatic.<\/p>\n

Yet, I wondered why each man could not help the sapling.<\/p>\n

A small, gentle voice emanated from nowhere, yet from everywhere, enlightened my understanding: \u201cThese men were tools in my hand.\u00a0 And my tools must work in concert.\u00a0 Even so, without my blessing their labors are in vain.\u201d<\/p>\n\"Facebook\"<\/a>\"twitter\"<\/a>\"reddit\"<\/a>\"pinterest\"<\/a>\"mail\"<\/a>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Last night in the depths of my slumber, a vision<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":584,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"twitterCardType":"","cardImageID":0,"cardImage":"","cardTitle":"","cardDesc":"","cardImageAlt":"","cardPlayer":"","cardPlayerWidth":0,"cardPlayerHeight":0,"cardPlayerStream":"","cardPlayerCodec":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[50],"class_list":["post-583","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-church","tag-unity"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pastormathis.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/583","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pastormathis.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pastormathis.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pastormathis.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pastormathis.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=583"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/pastormathis.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/583\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":585,"href":"https:\/\/pastormathis.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/583\/revisions\/585"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pastormathis.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/584"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pastormathis.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=583"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pastormathis.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=583"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pastormathis.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=583"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}