“In the same way, it is not the will of your Father in heaven that one of these little ones perish.” Matthew 18:14
W hen I was a young man, open rebellion wasn’t my thing. Always the diplomat, I guess my father’s genetics neutralized the prodigal chromosomes and bequeathed to me a “he’s-such-a good-boy” character.
So, did I actually rebel? Well, sort of.
But it wasn’t the “shake-my-fist-in-my-dad’s-face-give-me-my-inheritance” kind. It was the wandering kind. Like the young sheep described in this passage, throughout my life, I’d find myself nibbling on this little tuft of grass, and then looking out and seeing another that was clearly more tasty, I’d shuffle over to that one. Then I’d grow weary of this little patch of sod and move to another just a few feet ahead. And then once I’d tire of this one, I’d move to the next.
You could say that, as the hymnwriter penned centuries ago, I’ve grown up to be a “prone-to-wander” kind of guy.
In the year 1735 in the county of Norfolk in the English countryside, a boy was born. His parents, Michael and Mary Robinson, named him “Robert.” What a lovely choice of a name.
Tragically, when Robert was only eight years old his father died. If that weren’t hard enough, when Robert’s wealthy maternal grandfather, who had all but disowned his daughter as punishment for marrying a lowly man, left only ten shillings and sixpence to his grandson.
As soon as he was able to work, Robert found a job as a barber’s apprentice. He took on the challenge of providing for both himself and his widowed mother. His formal education was limited, but his time in deep study gave Robert an extensive range of knowledge. His life experience from an early age instilled in him an adult- like sense of responsibility.
At some point during his late teenage years, Robert encountered the well-known evangelist named George Whitefield. On December 10, 1755, Robinson could not ignore the power of this evangelist’s message and the Holy Spirit’s prompting. Robert was converted and would become a vocational minister, one of his congregations even growing to one thousand parishioners.
Despite his dramatic conversion and radical change in his life, Robert became unstable and unhappy for reasons that are not clear. His Christian beliefs and training seemed to become of little importance to him. So, Robert wandered off.
Then in 1758, Robinson penned the lyrics to the much beloved hymn “Come Thou Fount.”
We don’t know exactly what happened to Robert, but in the years that followed, he repeatedly wandered off. Again and again.
The story is told from years later of him taking a journey by stagecoach, accom- panied by a young woman with a lovely voice. Attempting to subdue the monotony of the long journey, she began to sing:
Come, thou fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above;
Praise the mount—I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of thy redeeming love.
O to grace how great a debtor,
Daily I’m constrained to be.
Let thy goodness like a fetter,
Bind my wand’ring heart to thee Prone to wander, Lord I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love.
Here’s my heart, Lord, take and seal it, Seal it for thy courts above.
Can you imagine the conviction and overwhelming joy Robert Robinson must have felt as the Lord used the very hymn he had written years before, to “bind his wandering heart” back to the Good Shepherd?
This story speaks powerfully to you and me, doesn’t it? It’s not too late. We’re never too far away for God to do a mighty work in us. How thankful we are for this truth.