The Man Who Talks With The Flowers

by Glenn Clark

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Long ago, long before I had even heard of Dr. Carver, I had ceased to fume or fret over interruptions to prearranged plans. I always have found that if I surrendered myself completely to God’s larger Plan and accepted with radiant acquiescence the events as they came, that, invariably, Life’s seeming disappointments become God’s own appointments, and that God would not close a door in his face without pointing to a better door on ahead.

Tuskegee is a unique college campus, with typical buildings like all college campuses, but with a distinct personality which one feels the moment one steps on the grounds. Everywhere young colored people, handsome, well-mannered and as cultured as the average type of white student, moved to and fro.

“Here is what I call God’s Little Workshop,” said Dr. Carver, and the next moment we had entered the sacred precinct of his place of miracles. “No books are ever brought in here,” he went on, “and what is the need of books? Here I talk to the little peanut and it reveals its secrets to me. I lean upon the 29th verse of the first chapter of Genesis. ‘And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for meat.’

Many people believe that prayer is merely a mental gymnastic which calms one’s inner self and comforts one’s soul while all the world rides by in its same old destructive processes, unaffected and undisturbed.

There are others who believe that prayer is an inner contact, more powerful because unseen, like and yet infinitely unlike the turning of an electric switch or galvanic battery. I belong to the latter group. It is one of those things that cannot be argued, it has to be experienced. It cannot be proved by words, it has to be demonstrated by actions.

For both of us believed utterly and completely in the Power of God to answer prayer.

“There is literally nothing that I ever wanted to do,” said the gray old man, “that I asked the blessed Creator to help me to do, that I have not been able to accomplish.”

“Not at all,” corrected the Doctor, “it’s all very simple, if one knows how to talk with the Creator. It is simply seeking

the Lord and finding Him. You remember what He said in the Proverbs, ‘Those that seek me early shall find me.’ So I just follow His advice and find Him.”

“Can you recall your first answer to prayer?” I asked. “One of my most surprising answers to prayer came when I was a little boy of five or six. I had no pocket knife and how I longed for one! I was very mechanically minded. And of all things—a boy without a pocket knife! So one night I prayed to the Father to send me a knife, and that night I had a dream. I dreamed that out in the field where the corn rows joined the tobacco rows there was a watermelon cut in half. One half was all gouged out. The other half, plump and full, was leaning up against three stalks of

corn, and out of it stuck the black handle of a pocket knife. The next morning I could hardly wait till I got through breakfast before I scampered out to the cornfield. There where the corn rows joined the tobacco rows I saw a watermelon cut in half, one half was all gouged out and the other half plump and solid rested up against three stalks of corn. And sticking out of it was the black handle of a pocket knife!’

“You have to love it enough,” said Dr. Carver. “Anything will give up its secrets if you love it enough. Not only have I found that when I talk to the little flower or little peanut it will give up its secrets,” he continued as if talking to himself, “but I have found that when I silently commune with people they give up their secrets also—if you love them enough. In a crowded auditorium of people I can pick out the spiritual souls almost at a glance.”

“But the sad thing is that you can also detect the ones that are not so spiritual,” added Jim Hardwick. “Oh, yes. Only last week a man brought his infantile paralysis son to me for treatment, and I told him at once, ‘I can do nothing for you.’ He began to curse me immediately from head to foot, and asked what business a nigger had in talking to him that way. ‘Why, damn you,” he roared, ‘why can’t you help my son?’ ‘Because my prayers and the power of this ointment would never be able to penetrate through

all the profanity in your heart. The profanity in your heart is enough to block any he...

“It is chiefly the oil,” he replied. “I have a very good friend, a lady who is a Christian Scientist, and she tries to make me drop all my reliance on herbs and oils. But I say to her, ‘My dear lady, how can I deny all the reality in matter, when the most beautiful things in life are God’s wonderful handiwork expressed through Nature? The herbs of the field, the clays, the healing ointments—I think God put these things

into the world to be used as instruments of healing—why otherwise would he have brought them into the world?’”

“Perfectly. It is not we little men that do the work, but our blessed Creator working through us.”

“Why is it that so few people can have this power?” one asked. “They can,” his voice rose to a sweet and almost piercing beauty. “They can, if they only believe.” Then he laid his hand on the Bible beside him, “The secret lies all in here. Right in the promises of God. Those promises are real, but so few people believe that they are real.” Then he pounded his hand on the table. “They are as real, as solid, yes infinitely more solid and substantial than this table which the materialist so thoroughly belives in. If you would only believe, o ye of little faith.”

My wife and I were spending two weeks in the south where I was heavily scheduled by Jim Hardwick to speak to high school and college athletes on the Power of the Spirit on the Athletic Field.

“Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies;— Hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower—but if I could understand What you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is.”

“Years ago,” he continued, “I went into my laboratory and said, ‘Dear Mr. Creator, please tell me what the universe was made for?’ “The great Creator answered, ‘You want to know too much for that little mind of yours. Ask for something more your size.’ “Then I asked, ‘Dear Mr. Creator, tell me what man was made for.’ Again the great Creator replied, ‘Little man, you still are asking too much. Cut down the extent of your request and improve the intent.’ “So then I asked, ‘Please Mr. Creator, will you tell me why the peanut was made?’ “‘That’s better, but even then it’s infinite. What do you want to know about the peanut?’

Mr. Creator, can I make milk out of the peanut?’ “‘What kind of milk do you want, good Jersey milk or just plain boarding house milk?’ “‘Good Jersey milk.’ “And then the great Creator taught me how to take the peanut apart and put it together again. And out of this process have come forth all these products.” For over an hour Dr. Carver drew forth from his home-made box of samples a continuing procession of face powder, printer’s ink, butter, shampoo, creosote, vinegar, dandruff cure, instant coffee,dyes,rubberoid compound, soaps, salads, wood stains.

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As we rode home I said to him, “I noticed that you responded to some of the people and not at all to others. Could you detect the spiritual ones from the others?” “Oh, that was very, very easy. It is the easiest thing in the world. Before I even began to speak I could have pointed out to you the twelve most spiritual ones in the audience. One of the clear ones was that little lady that wanted my flower. Wasn’t that sweet of her to ask for it? ... And wasn’t it kind of that audience to all rise for an old man like me—and to think, they did it twice . . . once when I began and once when I ended!”

The

And the flowers have never failed to tell me the truth. It told me that there is going to be a great spiritual awakening in the world, and it is going to come from people up here, from people connected with you and me, from plain simple people who know—not merely believe—but actually know that God answers prayer.

Figure it out for yourself, my lad, You’ve all that the greatest of men have had; Two arms, two hands, two legs, two eyes, And a brain to use if you would be wise, With this equipment they all began.

So start from the top and say, “I can.” Look them over, the wise and great, They take their food from a common plate

And similar knives and forks they use, With similar laces they tie their shoes, The world considers them brave and smart, But you’ve al...

You can triumph and come to skill, You can be great if you only will. You’re well equipped for what fight you choose; You have arms and legs and a brain to use, And the man who has risen gre...

YOU are the handicap you must face, You are the one who must choose your place. You must say where you want to go, How much you will study the truth to know; God has equipped you for...

Courage must come from the soul within The man must furnish the will to win. So figure it out for yourself, my lad, You were born with all that the great have had, With your equipment the...

“When I touch that flower,” he said softly, “I am not merely touching that flower. I am touching infinity. That little flower existed long before there were human beings on this earth. It will continue to exist for thousands, yes, millions of years to come.”

That is the secret of his power of talking with the flowers. They are mere doorways for him into the infinite world. They are windows through which he sees the face of God.