In pursuing his calling, Christ will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax, in which more is meant than spoken, for he will not only not break or quench, but he will cherish those with whom he so deals

Christ’s Dealings with the Bruised Reed

Physicians, though they put their patients to much pain, will not destroy nature, but raise it up by degrees.  Surgeons will lance and cut, but not dismember.  A mother who has a sick and self-willed child will not therefore cast it away.  And shall there be more mercy in the stream than in the spring?  Shall we think there is more mercy in ourselves than in God, who plants the affection of mercy in us?

But for further declaration of Christ’s mercy to all bruised reeds, consider the comfortable relationships he has taken upon himself of husband, shepherd and brother, which he will discharge to the utmost.  Shall others by his grace fulfill what he calls them to, and not he who, out of his love, has taken upon him these relationships, so thoroughly founded upon his Father’s assignment, and his own voluntary undertaking?

Consider the names he has borrowed from the mildest creatures, such as lamb and hen, to show his tender care.  Consider his very name Jesus, a Savior, given him by God himself.  Consider his office answerable to his name, which is that he should “bind up the broken hearted” (Isa 61:1). At his baptism the Holy Ghost rested on him in the shape of a dove, to show that he should be a dove-like, gentle Mediator.

See the gracious way he executes his offices.  As a prophet, he came with blessing in his mouth, “Blessed are the poor in spirit” (Matt. 5:3), and invited those to come to him whose hearts suggested the most exceptions against themselves, “Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden” (Matt. 11:28).  How did his heart yearn when he saw the people “as sheep having no shepherd” (Matt 9:36)!

He  never turned any back again that came to him, though some went away of themselves.  He came to die as a priest for his enemies.  In the days of his flesh he dictated a form of prayer unto his disciples, and put petitions to God in their mouths, and his Spirit to intercede in their hearts.  He shed tears for those that shed his blood, and now he makes intercession in heaven for weak Christians, standing between them and God’s anger.

He is a meek king – he will admit mourners into his presence – a king of poor and afflicted persons.  As he has beams of majesty, so he has a heart of mercy and compassion.  He is the prince of peace (Isa 9:6). Why was he tempted, but that he might “succor them that are tempted” (Heb. 2:18)?  What mercy may we not expect from so gracious a Mediator (1 Tim. 2:5) who took our nature upon him that he might be gracious?  He is a physician good at all diseases, especially at the binding up of a broken heart.  He died that he might heal our souls with a plaster of his own blood, and by that death save us from the broken heart which we acquired for ourselves by our own sins.

And has he not the same heart in heaven?  “Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?” cried the Head in heaven, when the foot on earth was trodden upon (Acts 9:4).  His advancement has not made him forget his own flesh.  It has freed him from Passion, but not compassion toward us.  The lion of the tribe of Judah will only tear in pieces those that “will not have him rule over them” (Luke 19:14).  He will not show his strength against those who prostrate themselves before him.

I heard this hymn to day while playing Indelible Grace’s album The Hymn Sing today.  I’d heard it a few times, but this was the first time I actually heard the lyrics:

I asked the Lord that I might grow

In faith, and love, and every grace;

Might more of His salvation know,

And seek, more earnestly, His face.

’Twas He who taught me thus to pray,

And He, I trust, has answered prayer!

But it has been in such a way,

As almost drove me to despair.

I hoped that in some favored hour,

At once He’d answer my request;

And by His love’s constraining pow’r,

Subdue my sins, and give me rest.

Instead of this, He made me feel

The hidden evils of my heart;

And let the angry pow’rs of hell

Assault my soul in every part.

Yea more, with His own hand He seemed

Intent to aggravate my woe;

Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,

Blasted my gourds, and laid me low.

Lord, why is this, I trembling cried,

Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death?

“’Tis in this way, the Lord replied,

I answer prayer for grace and faith.

These inward trials I employ,

From self, and pride, to set thee free;

And break thy schemes of earthly joy,

That thou may’st find thy all in Me.”

What’s amazing is how horrifyingly accurate these lyrics are.  There is nothing I desire more than to grow in spiritual maturity, and especially to see that maturity in an increase in holiness and a marked decrease in expressions of my sinful nature.  But praying for that growth inevitably leads to the worst aggravations of my sinful heart.  Victory over sin for me so rarely resembles me walking high above the water, impervious to temptation, and more often looks like me wisely avoiding situations where I know I will never be strong.

Oh! that I had been converted at three and found sufficient trials for my spiritual growth in the first two years!  Then, not only would I be living in a state of continuously victorious Christian maturity, but I would have almost no memory of my sinful ways at all.  But God’s design is that most of my strength should consist of knowledge of my frailty, and gratitude for His grace.

Behold my servant, whom I uphold; mine elect, in whom my soul delighteth; I have put my spirit upon him: he shall bring forth judgement to the Gentiles.  He shall not cry, nor lift up, nor cause his voice to be heard in the street.  A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench: he shall bring forth judgment unto truth. (Isa. 42:1-3)

What It Is to be Bruised

The bruised reed is a man that for the most part is in some misery, as those were that came to Christ for help.  And by misery, he is brought to see sin as the cause of it.  Whatever pretenses sin makes, they come to an end when we are bruised and broken.  He is sensible of sin and misery, even unto bruising, and seeing no help in himself, is carried with restless desire to have supply from another.  He has some hope, which raises him a little out of himself to Christ, but he dare not claim to have a right to mercy.

This spark of hope is opposed by doublings and fears that rise from his own corruption, which makes him like a smoking flax – a poor, distressed man.  This is the state of the person our Savior Christ terms “poor in spirit” (Matt. 5:3), who sees his needs, and also sees himself in debt to divine justice.  He has no means in himself to supply his shortages, and so he mourns. But he gets some hope of mercy from the promise and examples of others who have gotten mercy, and so he is stirred up to hunger and thirst after it himself.

The Good Effects of Bruising

This bruising is required before conversion, so that the Spirit may  make way for himself into the heart by leveling all proud, high thoughts, and so that we may understand ourselves to be what by nature we really are.  We love to wander from ourselves and to be strangers at home, till God bruises us by one cross or another.  And then we “begin to think” and come home to ourselves with the prodigal (Luke 15:17).  It is a very hard thing to bring a dull and evasive heart to cry with feeling for mercy.  Our hearts like criminals, until they are beaten from all evasions, never cry for the mercy of the judge.

Again, this bruising makes us set a high price upon Christ.  Then the gospel becomes the gospel indeed; then the fig leaves of morality will do us no good.  And it makes us more thankful, and from thankfulness, more fruitful in our lives.  For what makes so many cold and barren except that bruising from sin never made God’s grace dear to them?

Likewise, this dealing of God pushes us all the more into his ways, having had knocks and bruisings in our own ways. This is often the cause of relapses and apostasy – because men never smarted for sin at the start.  They weren’t long enough under the lash of the law.  Therefore this inferior work of the Spirit in bringing down high thoughts (2 Cor. 10:5) is necessary before conversion. And for the most part, the Holy Spirit, in order to further the work of conviction, joins it with some affliction, which has a healing and purging power when sanctified.

After conversion, we need bruising so that reeds may know themselves to be reeds, and not oaks.  Even reeds need bruising, by reason of the remainder of pride in our nature, and to let us see that we live by mercy.  Such bruising may also help weaker Christians not to be too discouraged, when they see stronger ones shaken and bruised.  So Peter was bruised when he wept bitterly (Matt 26:75). This reed, until he has met with this bruise, had more wind in him than pith, when he said, “Though all forsake thee, I will not” (Matt 26:33).

The people of God cannot be without these examples.  The heroic deeds of these great worthies do not comfort the church so much as their falls and bruises do.  So David was bruised until he came to a free confession without guile of spirit (Ps. 32:3-5). So Hezekiah complains that God has “broken his bones” as a lion (Isa. 38:13).  So the chosen vessel Paul needed the messenger of Satan to buffet him, lest he should be lifted up above measure (2 Cor. 12:7).

Hence we learn that we must not pass too harsh judgment upon ourselves or others when God exercises us with bruising upon bruising.  There must be a conformity to our head, Christ, who “was bruised for us” (Isa. 53:5) that we may know how much we are bound to him.

Ungodly spirits, ignorant of God’s ways in bringing his children to heaven, censure broken hearted Christians as miserable persons, whereas God is doing a gracious, good work with them.  It is no easy matter to bring a man from nature to grace, and from grace to glory, so unyielding and intractable are our hearts.