Story Contributed by Ken Chandler
The following story was written for me at my request. I have heard this almost 94 year old man tell this story in his strong melodic voice. The story happened when he was 25 years old. I am so grateful to share it with you. I am only sorry you can’t hear him tell it himself. Read it slowly and imagine each word coming straight from the heart of this lover of Jesus.
God works in mysterious ways, His wonders to perform!
It was a glorious day. I was told that I had graduated from the hospital, where I had been a tuberculosis patient for nearly 9 months, to a cottage. The cottage was for those who had reached a level of healing allowing them to live alone.
My meals were brought to me from the hospital kitchen about a block away from my cottage home. Heat for my dwelling was a pot bellied wood fired stove in the middle of the room. For sleeping there was an open porch where more than once I found snowflakes at the base of my bed; but the air was clear, fresh, invigorating—this remedy for TB back 65 years ago.
After 3 months in the cottage, I was told that I could walk to the hospital dining room for one meal a day. I chose breakfast. This was the first walk in the open air in over a year. Freedom!!!
A crisp evening snowfall had covered the ground and the roof of my cottage. An exquisite aroma from my pot bellied stove filled the air. There were places where the snow had crystallized and glistened in the early day—touched by the sun in a mystical way. It was glorious.
I walked slowly, breathing in God’s creation with every step and then quite suddenly I noticed a bright red glow reflecting off the pristine whiteness of the snow. I stopped, knelt by its side, and found to my astonishment—a rose.
I brushed aside the snow to make certain that what I saw was real. Yes, a rose. The rose surviving the coldness of the night—vivid, brilliant, vibrant with a sense of holiness about it.
He came to mind—Jesus.
The snow was the coldness of our hearts made clean by the precious blood he shed for us. I cannot imagine a rose surviving the coldness of the night, but God speaks to us in the coldest of our days, the darkest of our days, to bring us everlasting life.
God works in mysterious ways, His wonders to perform.