Isaiah 55:6-7 Seek the Lord while He may be found, Call upon Him while He is near. 7 Let the wicked forsake his way, And the unrighteous man his thoughts; Let him return to the Lord, And He will have mercy on him; And to our God, For He will abundantly pardon.
It was a bright Sunday morning in 18th century London, but Robert Robinson’s mood was anything but sunny. All along the street, there were people hurrying to church, but in the midst of the crowd, Robinson was a lonely man. The sound of church bells reminded him of years past when his faith in God was strong and the church was an integral part of his life. It had been years since he set foot in a church -- years of wandering, disillusionment, and gradual defection from the God he once loved. That love for God -- once fiery and passionate -- had slowly burned out within him, leaving him dark and cold inside. Robinson heard the clip-clop, clip-clop of a horse-drawn cab approaching behind him. Turning, he lifted his hand to hail the driver. But then he saw that the cab was occupied by a young woman dressed in finery for the Lord’s Day. He waved the driver on, but the woman in the carriage ordered the carriage to be stopped.
"Sir, I’d be happy to share this carriage with you," she said to Robinson. "Are you going to church?" Robinson was about to decline, then he paused. "Yes," he said at last. "I am going to church." He stepped into the carriage and sat down beside the young woman. As the carriage rolled forward Robert Robinson and the woman exchanged introductions. There was a flash of recognition in her eyes when he stated his name. "That’s an interesting coincidence," she said, reaching into her purse. She withdrew a small book of inspirational verse, opened it to a ribbon bookmark, and handed the book to him. "I was just reading a verse by a poet named Robert Robinson. Could it be…?"
He took the book, nodding. "Yes, I wrote these words years ago." "Oh, how wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Imagine! I’m sharing a carriage with the author of these very lines!"
But Robinson barely heard her. He was absorbed in the words he was reading. They were words that would one day be set to music and become a great hymn of the faith, familiar to generations of Christians:
Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace’
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
His eyes slipped to the bottom of the page where he read:
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it—
Prone to leave the God I love;
Here’s my heart, O take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.
He could barely read the last few lines through the tears that brimmed in his eyes. "I wrote these words—and I’ve lived these words. ’Prone to wander…prone to leave the God I love.’"
The woman suddenly understood. "You also wrote, ’Here’s my heart, O take and seal it.’ You can offer your heart again to God, Mr. Robinson. It’s not too late."
And it wasn’t too late for Robert Robinson. At that moment he turned his heart back to God and walked with him for the rest of his days. [Ron Lee Davis, Courage to Begin Again, (Harvest House, Eugene, OR; 1978), pp. 145-147]
Is this you? A devoted Christian deep in your heart, who has wandered from the faith? Your loving Father will orchestrate your return to Him.
Copyright 1999-2026 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
How to display the above article within the Worthy Suite WordPress Plugin.
[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]There is something deeply intentional in God’s instruction concerning the lamb. He does not tell Israel to take a lamb at the last moment — He commands them to choose it on the 10th day of Nisan, set it apart, and live with it until the 14th day. This was not random timing; it was divine design.
There is something deeply powerful in the way God introduces Passover (Pesach) in Exodus. He does not begin with a list of instructions. He begins with divine intervention. Israel is enslaved, bound under Pharaoh, and crushed beneath a system they have no power to escape. Yet right in the middle of that helplessness, God speaks: “This month shall be for you the beginning of months.”
Yeshua (Jesus) does not conclude this parable with separation alone — He brings it to its true climax in glory. After the harvest, after the revealing, after everything has been set in its proper place, He lifts our eyes beyond the process and into the purpose with a powerful promise: the righteous will shine. This is the heart of the harvest — not merely the removal of what does not belong, but the unveiling of what truly does.
Yeshua (Jesus) brings this parable to a decisive and unavoidable climax: a moment is coming when everything in the field will be uncovered for what it truly is. The harvest is not merely the end of a process — it is the unveiling. What has been growing quietly over time will suddenly stand in full clarity, with no room left for confusion, assumption, or misjudgment. In that moment, the distinction will be undeniable.
There is something deeply instructive in the restraint of the Lord. When the servants recognize the problem in the field, their instinct is immediate action. They want to fix it, remove it, clean it up. But the Lord responds in a way that challenges human urgency. He tells them to wait.
There is a deeper layer in this parable that moves beyond simply identifying the difference between wheat and tares. Yeshua (Jesus) is not only revealing that the tare looks like wheat — He is warning that what it produces has the power to affect those who partake of it. The issue is not just imitation; it is ingestion. It is not only what is growing in the field, but what is being received into the heart.
With so much disinformation and so many voices speaking into our lives, people often ask for my thoughts on who to trust and what to believe. In light of that, I believe it’s time to step into a deeper kind of discernment — becoming what I would call a fruit inspector. This series is born out of that burden: to learn how to recognize the difference between the wheat and the tares.