Image by Grok
A Rose is a Rose...
There once was a little bush that sprang up amongst a meadow full of weeds. Now, the weeds were not all noxious or ugly, but they were prolific and spread like wildfire in poor soil. Some had pretty flowers decorating their stems and leaves. However, the fruit of the flowers was often bitter, sour, and sometimes poisonous. Some had no fruit at all.
The little bush continued to grow despite the encroachment of the weeds that threatened to overwhelm it. It thrived not only because it was a hardy plant but also because it had some help.
The bush grew thorns and bark for protection, but even that was not enough to ward off every threat. But amazingly, every time it was crowded by weeds or attacked by parasites and disease, a hand from above came to the rescue.
So, in time, the little bush thrived, and one day it produced a glorious flower—a beautiful rose. And the more roses it produced, the more help it got from the hand. Sure, it had its share of parasitical aphids and blight, but its faith in the hand never wavered.
The bush continued to grow, and though the meadow was flooded with rain, baked under the sun, or covered with snow, it didn't worry. It knew the Hand would sustain it as long as it produced the roses.
Reflection: A rosebush is a hardy piece of shrubbery, is it not? With its thorns and tangles, it offers resistance to those that would devour it if it were unprotected. And yet, it gives the world one of nature's most beautiful flowers. No matter the thorns that prick, parasitic aphids that threaten to overwhelm it, the disease that wilts it, or the work it takes to maintain it, we continue to value it for the gift of the rose.
A decent and moral America is like a glorious rosebush amongst the noxious weeds of the world—guard it and nourish it, for one does not rip up the rosebush, stem and root, because it happens to have some thorns and a few parasites.
The hand that cultivated and sustained the rosebush was a gardener. The Hand that cultivated and sustains America is God. Without Him, the "weeds" of the world will overwhelm us.
The gardener does not love the thorns, the parasites, the diseases, or the weeds that plague the rosebush. He loves roses; he loves the softness of the petals, the beauty of the colors, the delicate scent and form of the blossom. It's not about the bush—it's about the rose.
God does not love America's sins; He loves our virtues—our faith, our humility, our charity, our prudence in the pursuit of justice, and the fortitude to carry it out. It's not about the body—it's about the soul.
Regarding this current conflict in the Middle East—pray for those who stand in harm's way, pray for wisdom in those who lead, and pray that we remain a people who bear roses even in the harshest seasons. For in the end, what God preserves is not our might, but our soul. Amen.
