As I mull the story of the Tares among the Wheat for Sunday (and the difficulty of knowing the weeds from the good plants) I am reminded of a poem (admittedly the first stanza is most relevant):
All that is gold does not glitter
Not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither
Deep roots are not reached by the frost
From the ashes a fire shall be woken
A light from teh shadows shall spring
Renewed shall be blade that was broken
The crownless again shall be king.
Thanks Gord. A tremendous help with sermonizing on this one
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