A Tiny Rosebud Friday
Posted by: bigguyhereagain <bigguyhereagain@...>
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 asking the older preacher for some
advice. The older preacher walked up to a rose bush and handed the
young preacher a rosebud and told him to open it without tearing any
of the petals. The young preacher looked in disbelief at the older
preacher and was 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
ministry. But, because of his great respect for the older preacher,
he proceeded to try and unfold the rosebud while
keeping every petal intact . . . It wasn't long before he realized
how impossible this was to do. Noticing the young preacher's
inability to unfold the rosebud without tearing it, 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,
Then, in my hands, they die.
If I cannot unfold a rosebud,
The flower of God's design,
Then how can I have the wisdom
To unfold this life of mine?
So, I'll trust in Him for leading
Each moment of my day.
I will look to Him for His guidance
Each step of the Pilgrim's 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.
There was a couple who used to go to England to shop in the
beautiful stores. They both liked antiques and pottery and
especially teacups. This was their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary.
One day in this beautiful shop they saw a beautiful teacup.
They said, "May we see that? We've never seen one quite so
beautiful."
As the lady handed it to them, suddenly the teacup
spoke. "You don't understand," it said. "I haven't
always been a teacup. There was a time when I was red
and I was clay. My master took me and Rolled me and
patted me over and over and I yelled out, 'Let me
alone', but he only smiled, 'Not yet.' "Then I was
placed on a spinning wheel," the teacup said, "and
suddenly I was spun around and around and around.
Stop it! I'm getting dizzy? I screamed. But the master
only nodded and said, 'Not yet'
Then he put me in the oven. I never felt such heat. I
wondered why he wanted to burn me, and I yelled and
knocked at the door. I could see him through the opening
and I could read his lips and he shook his head,
'Not yet.'
Finally the door opened, he put me on the shelf, and I
began to cool. 'There, that's better', I said. And he
brushed and painted me all over. The fumes were horrible.
I thought I would gag. 'Stop it, stop it!' I cried. He
only nodded, 'Not yet.'
Then suddenly he put me back into the oven, not like the
first one. This was twice as hot and I knew I would
suffocate. I begged. I pleaded. I screamed. I cried.
All the time I could see him through the opening nodding
his head saying, 'Not yet.'
Then I knew there wasn't any hope. I would never make it.
I was ready to give up. But the door opened and he took me
out and placed me on the shelf. One hour later he handed
me a mirror and I couldn't believe it was me. 'It's beautiful.
I'm beautiful.'
'I want you to remember, then,' he said, 'I know it hurts
to be rolled and patted, but if I had left you alone, you
would have dried up. I know it made you dizzy to spin around
on the wheel, but if I had stopped, you would have crumbled.
I knew it hurt and was hot and disagreeable in the oven but
if I hadn't put you there, you would have cracked. I know the
fumes were bad and when I brushed and painted you all over,
but if I hadn't done that, you never would have hardened;
you would not have had any color in your life. And if I
hadn't put you back in that second oven, you wouldn't survive
for very long because the hardness would not have held.
Now you are a finished product. You are what I had in mind
when I first began with you.
MORAL:
God knows what He's doing for all of us. He is the potter
and we are His clay. He will mold us and make us, so that
we may be made into a flawless piece of work to fulfill His
good, pleasing and perfect will.
Friendship is a pricless gift,
that cannot be bought or sold.
But it's value is far greater
than a mountain made of gold.
For gold is cold and lifeless,
it can neither see nor hear.
And in a time of trouble,
it is powerless to cheer.
It has no ears to listen,
no heart to understand.
It cannot bring you comfort,
or reach out a helping hand.
So when you ask God for a gift,
be thankful if he sends...
Not diamonds, pearls or riches,
but the love of real true friends.
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