Dreaming of Ducks
The Ducks in the Pond
Years ago, I had a dream that I had never really understood until lately. Most dreams we have seldom last in our recollection beyond the morning trip to the bathroom. This dream has been different, sticking with me for years.
Imagine if you will, a very large, very beautiful, nearly flat Midwestern field surrounded by trees and over growth. In this field are thousands of ponds of water, each with slightly different ducks swimming around, each holding their banners.
Over there on the right are the ducks carrying placards that read “American Baptist,” over there is a pond filled with ducks claiming to be “Methodist” ducks. There are Catholic ducks, Nazarene ducks, African Methodist Episcopal, Amish, Mennonite, Assembly of God, Calvinist, and Presbyterian. Down the way, there are more ponds, with more ducks, each floating around with their sign. There are, Southern Baptist, Primitive Baptist, Reformed Baptist, Seventh Day Baptist, Free Will Baptist, Anabaptist, American Baptist, and plain old Baptist ducks.
Jehovah’s Witnesses ducks, Byzantine Catholics, Anglican Catholic, Old Catholics, even some Charismatic Episcopalians, and over there are the Pentecostal ducks. There are ponds for every group of Christians under the sun. Each group has their own pond, each being civil to those in the other ponds, but not very friendly.
Suddenly, yet slowly the water level begins to rise. Some of the ponds overflow their banks, and flow into their neighbor’s pond. Some of the ducks on one pond get into the ponds of other ducks. They are becoming friends, learning from each other, becoming more and more alike in all manner of ways. There are Catholic ponds with visiting Southern Baptist ducks, Baptist ducks in the Pentecostal pond, some Pentecostal ducks in the Amish pond. The water level continues to rise, more and more little ponds are swallowed up into larger pounds.
Some of the ducks in some of the ponds get mad; can you imagine an Anglican duck saying something like that they ask. Some of the ducks are so mad they get out of the pond entirely, standing on the shore, quaking at anybody that would listen. Some of the ducks are so mad they just walk off into the surrounding woods, where the beasts of the forest make them dinner. However, the water level continues to rise.
Now, there is only one big pond, and few ducks are still carrying their placards. Each as decided to learn of Jesus from the other, each worships God in one accord. There are many of the out of the pond ducks return to the pond, yet not all. Eventually, there is one big pond, filled with one kind of duck, each swimming in agreement with all the other ducks.
Suddenly… There is a rumble in the Eastern sky, flashes of lightning, and in the midst, the odd shape of a man. It grows closer, the ducks group together. The man figure becomes recognizable. It is Jesus Christ, Son of God, appearing in the sky! The sound of a trumpet fills the air. Jesus puts forth his hands, and says, “Come – my Bride!” Without a pause, the pond is empty of ducks. Some of the wayward ducks come from hiding in the woods, and encircling the pond, talking, wondering what has happened. The beasts in the forest wait for the wayward ducks to return.
End of dream….