He Came for Bruised Reeds / Alistair Begg

He Came for Bruised Reeds

A bruised reed he will not break, and a faintly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice.

Isaiah 42:3

The great political leaders of ancient times relied on might to rule. (Many today still do.) Cyrus the Great, king of Persia, was described as trampling people into oblivion and treading on them as a potter might tread on clay (see Isaiah 41:25). Yet at the same time Isaiah prophesied of the Servant to come—one who would be in direct contrast with the rulers of the day. Jesus, the Servant, is gentle, tender, and kind. Those whom others are tempted to reject and discard He is willing and able to use. What an encouraging word! In the picture of a bruised reed, we see the significance of Jesus’ tenderness towards us. You can’t lean on a bruised reed, and neither can you make music with it. Yet Jesus picks up those whom others have cast aside and makes a beautiful melody in and through their lives. Today, you may find yourself feeling horribly downtrodden, damaged by what others have done to you or injured by past mistakes. Perhaps you’ve been tempted to believe that you’re broken and useless. But there is glorious news for you: the Servant picks up bruised reeds, and He does so with care. Jesus also makes use of smoldering wicks. He doesn’t snuff them out; rather, He takes the flickering stump and He makes it a shining light. Maybe you’ve been led to believe that your best days are behind you; you’re a sputtering old candle, a faint and dying flame. If you haven’t got it figured out by now, you tell yourself, there’s probably no hope for you at all. But once again there is good news: smoldering wicks find hope in this Servant, who has come to rekindle us. Jesus is phenomenally interested in the no-names—the bruised reeds, the smoldering wicks. He redeems and uses them to bring light to the world and praise to His name. In truth, one way or another we are all bruised reeds and faintly burning wicks. Are we willing to recognize our humble situation so that we can know the gentleness and kindness of the Servant? After all… He’ll never quench the smoking flax, But raise it to a flame; The bruisèd reed He never breaks, Nor scorns the meanest name.[1]

Isaac Watts, “With Joy We Meditate the Grace” (1707–09).