A Grateful Reed

This little devotional by Max Lucado was for me this week. Maybe the ugliness bombarding us at every turn has you feeling pretty beaten up and black and blue these days too. Please read on.

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Is there anything more frail than a bruised reed? Look at the bruised reed at the water’s edge. A once slender and tall stalk of sturdy river grass, it is now bowed and bent.

Are you a bruised reed? Was it so long ago that you stood so tall, so proud?

Then something happened. You were bruised…

By harsh words

By a friend’s anger

By a spouse’s betrayal…

The bruised reed. Society knows what to do with you. The world will break you off; the world will snuff you out.

But the artists of Scripture proclaim that God won’t. Painted on canvas after canvas is the tender touch of a Creator who has a special place for the bruised and weary of the world. A God who is the friend of the wounded heart.

An excerpt from a Desiring God article, A Bruised Reed He Will Not Break by Sam Allberry, continues this theme so well.

Only Jesus can demonstrate ultimate strength and then apply that same unique strength in the most tender ways. The same Jesus who has the power not only to throw down tables in the temple courtyard, or to expel demons from the possessed, or even to call a dead man out of a grave — this Jesus also has the capacity to show tenderness to those who are most delicate and fragile. We’re told in Matthew’s Gospel:

“He will not quarrel or cry aloud,
     nor will anyone hear his voice in the streets;
a bruised reed he will not break,
     and a smoldering wick he will not quench,
until he brings justice to victory;
     and in his name the Gentiles will hope.” (Matthew 12:19–21)

There was none stronger than Jesus. He was fearless before those who opposed him. He never once hesitated to say what needed to be said, even when he knew it would provoke violent opposition. He confronted those who needed to be called out. And he claimed victory over sin and death. This was no weak man.

And yet, in Jesus, enormous strength does not lead to insensitivity. The capacity to challenge and confront doesn’t lead to unnecessary conflict. He doesn’t stomp over people. He can crush a serpent, but he can also hold the most delicate in his care. We are reminded of what Isaiah said about the God who would be coming for his people:

Behold, the Lord God comes with might,
     and his arm rules for him;
behold, his reward is with him,
     and his recompense before him.
He will tend his flock like a shepherd;
     he will gather the lambs in his arms;
he will carry them in his bosom,
     and gently lead those that are with young. (Isaiah 40:10–11)

The arm with which this God effects his mighty rule is the same arm which gathers up the lambs. The God who can level mountain ranges and topple superpowers is the same God who carries the weakest and most tender close to his heart.

Isaiah’s prophecy looks forward to one who will not break a bruised reed (Isaiah 42:3). That is not because Jesus is a pushover. He is not soft. He knows how to apply strength to vulnerability. Think of all the things he could break and you begin to see the wonder of what he won’t break.

Part of the wonder is that Jesus is able to combine what we so easily separate. In our experience those who are gentlest tend to lack strength and force when it is called for, while those who are strongest tend to lack the capacity for gentleness and restraint. But Jesus exemplifies perfect gentleness and awesome strength. No one is crushed by mistake. There is never any friendly fire or collateral damage.

This combination is why he is such a good Savior to turn to. He is strong and mighty to save: he can take on the strongest of our foes and always be certain to prevail. No spiritual force arrayed against us stands a chance of surviving. And yet he is unspeakably delicate and careful with us. There is no wound or vulnerability he doesn’t understand or handle with the utmost care. He is someone we can trust with our most tender bruises and fragility. He will not be clumsy with us. He won’t steamroll us. He can apply his unimaginable strength to us with affection and sensitivity.

In a fallen world like this, all of us are people who have both sinned and been sinned against. Some of this will have left us with deep wounds that seem unfathomable even to us, let alone others. But Jesus knows us fully and understands us entirely. He loves us more than we love ourselves. He is even more committed to our ultimate joy than we are.

In our pain and confusion, in our weakness and mess, we come to him assured that he alone is trustworthy. He has the power and capacity to help us, and the tenderness and care to want to. We can trust him with our deepest pains and bruises. There is none more fearsome, but none gentler.

Our God is a friend of the wounded heart.

Doesn’t that give you incredible hope?

Doesn’t that compel you to cry out with humble gratitude to our compassionate and caring Father?

Isn’t this posture a fitting way to begin to this Thanksgiving season?

It is for me…

—Eileen Hill

 

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*Please be advised that this blog represents the views, opinions and beliefs of the writer and does not necessarily reflect those of our church leadership or denominational affiliation.