A young, new preacher was walking with an older, more seasoned preacher in the garden one day. Feeling a bit insecure about what God had for him to do, he was inquiring of the older man. The older preacher walked up to a rosebush, picked a bud, then handed it to the younger preacher, telling him to open it without tearing any petals. The young preacher looked in disbelief at the older preacher, trying to figure out what a rosebud could possibly have to do with his wanting to know the will of God for his life and for his ministry. Because of his high respect for the older preacher, he proceeded to try unfolding the rose, while keeping every petal intact.. It wasn't long before he realized how impossible it was to do so. Noticing the younger preacher's inability to unfold the rosebud while keeping it intact, the older preacher began to recite the following poem...




It is only a tiny rosebud,

A flower of God's design;

But I cannot unfold the petals

With these clumsy hands of mine.

The secret of unfolding flowers

Is not known to such as I.

God opens this flower so sweetly,

When in my hands they fade and die.

If I cannot unfold a rosebud,

This flower of God's design,

Then how can I think I have wisdom

To unfold this life of mine?

So I'll trust in Him for His leading

Each moment of every day.

I will look to Him for guidance

Each step of the pilgrim way.

The pathway that lies before me,

Only my Heavenly Father knows.

I'll trust Him to unfold the moments,

Just as He unfolds the rose.

                                                   (author unknown)


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