Matthew 12:9-21
A bruised reed he will not break.
Tonight we have heard some words from the prophet Isaiah (which in the King James Version is rendered as “Esaias”) that we should all take and inscribe on our memories in big, bold letters:
A bruised reed shall he not break, and smoking flax shall he not quench.
For the prophet, it was a vision of the coming Messiah. God was to send someone who would be mighty, destroying all his enemies, and building a great kingdom; and yet this same someone would be, in a word, gentle.
To St Matthew, and to us his readers, all on this side of Calvary, we see that the prophet was speaking of Jesus of Nazareth. This man, who was powerful enough to take on all the powers of hell and banish them with nothing more than a word, and was strong enough to bear the weight of the sins of the world and come out the other side risen and glorified, is also gentle.
There are two parts to the gentleness of Jesus we hear of in this prophecy. First is the great comfort he gives: a bruised reed shall he not break.
Humans are fragile creatures, and we all require “handling with care”. I was at the hospital this morning, and there was a painted rock on the pathway to the palliative care ward with the words “compassion begins by recognising we all struggle”. A wise rock, I thought. We all have problems to deal with. We are all like reeds, slim and fragile blades of grass growing by the river, and we are bruised: bent and damaged in some way. Enter Jesus: a bruised reed he will not break.
When you turn to God in the name of Jesus, there is such warm comfort and relief that proves this Scripture to be true. He never turns us away; indeed, he reaches out and holds us gently and securely. Some of us may want to bluster and harden our way over and against this description as “bruised reeds”, but the truth is, every heart knows what it means to be bruised, and we all benefit from the gentle care of our Lord. I would therefore encourage you to take more time in your life to turn to him in prayer, to set aside time so that you may know more of the truth of what it means that “a bruised reed shall he not break”.
There is another side to Jesus’ gentleness, which is the second half: “smoking flax shall he not quench”. To get an idea of what the prophet meant, think about those old cartoons, where you would have a big wooden barrel filled with gunpowder, and a line of fuse sticking out of it. It would look like a bit of old rope. That is flax. It is nothing more than a smouldering wick; just a low, slow burn that never bursts into a proper flame.
So often we hear about the “fire” of the Holy Spirit. And yet how often do we miss out on that fire, and only feel like a bit of smoking flax? This is the other side of Jesus’ gentleness: encouragement. In fact, I would say it is more than encouragement; he really truly imparts the divine fire of God the Holy Spirit into our hearts, fanning the smoking flax into a blazing heart filled with the love of God.
In both respects – the bruised reed and smoking flax – we must recognise the truth of the poverty of our own nature. If we do not recognise that we are bruised reeds and smoking flax, then we will not comprehend the gentleness of Jesus. But if we come before God with the worship he desires, then we will experience the awesome power of Jesus’ gentleness. Psalm 51 teaches us true worship. Happily, our order for Evening Prayer is filled with references to this Psalm, in order to prepare our hearts for the gentleness of Jesus. Psalm 51 is a prayer of humble confession to God, a confession alongside a plea for divine mercy:
1 Have mercy upon me, O God, after thy great goodness : according to the multitude of thy mercies do away mine offences.
2 Wash me throughly from my wickedness : and cleanse me from my sin.
3 For I acknowledge my faults : and my sin is ever before me.
These are the opening verses. Further down we read about what God desires:
15 Thou shalt open my lips, O Lord : and my mouth shall shew thy praise.
16 For thou desirest no sacrifice, else would I give it thee : but thou delightest not in burnt-offerings.
17 The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit : a broken and contrite heart, O God, shalt thou not despise.
God does not desire we bring him “things” and “stuff” (“For thou desirest no sacrifice, else would I give it thee”), but rather “a broken and contrite heart”. This is the God of David, who wrote that Psalm, it is the God of Isaiah, who prophesied of the coming Messiah, and it is the same God revealed to be Jesus of Nazareth, in whom the Psalm and the prophecy converge.
So come to the Lord Jesus as a bruised reed and smoking flax. Come to the Lord Jesus in humble contrition. Don’t bring anything with you; he is God, he’s not interested in anything less than your heart. For you are his greatest creation, and your heart is his greatest desire. He cares greatly for you, will treat you with all gentleness, and he will fill you with the celestial fire of the Spirit of Almighty God.