Two Lessons and Rose Bush
- Aug 4, 2025
- 5 min read
By Heather Huebner -
Eleven years ago I bought two rose bushes. They were pretty little rose bushes, both delicate and lovely. They produced the kind of flowers about which one might be tempted to quote Shakespeare, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet”. I remember the moment when it first hit me, the moment I sat down under the conviction of the Holy Spirit and was taught a lesson using the example of those blooms (Psalms 32:8, John 14:26).
Gardening had become an idol for me. Of course, gardening is a common hobby and artistic outlet, and one may even argue that it is a healthy pastime, but for me, like many hobbies, it had grown too big and was a recurring source of temptation and obsession (Jonah 2:8). On this particular day, I had already been chipping away at the idol for a while, and it had become less and less of a problem for me. Yet on that day while passing by the garden sales, I had purchased the roses quite impulsively. I had not prayed about it; I had not wanted to. I wanted them and I was going to have them.
Taking them home, the weight of conviction pressed down upon me until I sat quite defeated on my front step, staring at the tiny little bushes and wishing they would just go away. That was the day of the first lesson. That was the day when I was Esau, trading my birthright for a bowl of stew (Genesis 25:29-34). That was the day when my desire for what I wanted trumped my desire to please God by seeking His direction (Galatians 5:16-1, Proverbs 16:3). That was the day that I came face to face with the reality that we are never so far ahead of our temptations that we do not need to be on guard and seek God’s direction in all things (Proverbs 4:23, Romans 12:2).
I wanted to return the flowers immediately, but the Lord led me to plant them, and to have them as a constant reminder of my choice. And so they were planted. For the rest of that year, ironically, one of the bushes was so hounded by bugs that it didn’t come back the following spring. I witnessed, in my own garden, the spiritual reality that putting our hope in the things of this world is a futile exercise, and as Solomon once wrote, “A chasing after the wind.”(Ecclesiastes. 1:14). Esau’s stew was eaten. One little rosebush, which I had desired enough to defy Christ’s Lordship, had completely vanished. That was the first lesson that the Lord taught me through those roses.
Many years have passed since that first lesson, and I still have that second rose bush. At first it was in full sun, and it did rather well. Well enough to remind me of the first lesson each time it bloomed. However, very soon the plants around it were either changed or just simply outgrew that little rose. Eventually the blooms became more and more infrequent, as it barely received any sun. The only time I would see a rose was when all the plants around it had died back in the fall, and it had a chance to get some light. One pretty little bloom followed by frost and ice, and that was all.
This spring I decided that enough was enough. This rose bush was never going to thrive there in the shade; it had to be moved. So with great difficulty, among a throng of other plant roots and new spring shoots, I dug my rose bush out. It did not come out unscathed. Some roots had to be broken off, and after replanting it in its new sunny spot at the front of the garden, it looked rather sad and limp. For weeks it seemed to linger between life and death, and I was resigned to accept it either way. It simply couldn’t stay where it was any more. A rose bush is meant to bloom.
After weeks in the hot sun, with no plants around to overshadow it, that little rose bush began to flourish. Soon it had numerous buds, and then they opened up into a glorious cascade of blooms. It is a small rose bush, and it will never grow up a trellis or fill a front garden bed, but what that little bush can do now is do what is was meant to do. It simply needed a new vantage point, one where it can face the sun all day long.
So this brings me to the second lesson of the rose bush. This lesson, unlike the first which came in the form of conviction, came in the parallel I could clearly see between myself and that bush. For a long time I thrived and grew in Christ, perhaps I even bloomed at times in the glorious grace of the Lord. My roots spread deep and I had plenty of good soil and water. I could always see the Son. Over the years, however, in the relentless business of my life, the world around me seemed to swallow me up and shade my view. It consumed more and more of my life until I realized that I no longer resembled what I was supposed to be. By His grace I was still alive. I was still being watered regularly in the Word. I even bloomed the odd time when the shade was removed, but I was not thriving. The problem was that I lacked a constant view of the Son. I was not abiding, and apart from Him, I could do nothing (John 15:5).
When I saw what this bush could do when given the full sun again, I realized that God can do that with me as well, or with any of His children who have wandered away, whether just a little, or far away from the path of life. I also saw what I had to do to save that bush. I had to nearly kill it, but in doing so it was able to flourish in the sun. I know that sometimes the most painful times are the ones that send us deepest into the arms of the Lord. I also know that when our lives are uprooted, and seemingly destroyed, we can be just moments away from a new burst of real life. So what is the second lesson of the rose bush exactly? Hope. God is faithful to complete what He has started in me, and in all His children (Philippians 1:6). There is no shade too deep or too dark that He cannot bring light into, because He Himself is the Light (John 1:5). Trials and tribulations can seem cruel and uncaring when they are upon us, but those same trials can be the very things that are necessary to allow the new life, growth, and Christ-like abundance that Christ has promised us (John 10:10).
So what now? I will wait, and with that little rose bush in mind I will expect the unexpected to uproot me and cause me to thrive once more. In the meantime, I will seek the Son, and continue to let my roots soak up His Word. I will remember what I already know, and simply trust that the Master Gardener is faithful and good (Phil.1:6, Rom. 8:28). I will sing with the Psalmist, “Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation!” (42:5).
For those interested in reading the first lesson as written previously, follow this link to my old blog
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