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 rosebush and handed the young
preacher a rosebud and told him to open it without tearing off any 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 to unfold the
rose, while keeping every petal intact. It wasn't long before he realized how impossible this was to do.
Noticing the younger 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
But I cannot unfold the petals
With these clumsy hands of mine.
The secret of unfolding flowers
not known to such as I.
GOD opens this flower so sweetly,
Then in my hands they die.
If I cannot unfold a rosebud,
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
moment of my day.
I will look to Him for His guidance
Each step of the pilgrim way.
The pathway that lies before
Only my Heavenly Father knows.
I'll trust Him to unfold the moments,
Just as He unfolds the rose.
*Copied and pasted from an email;
I am not the author of this piece