Ok, so I confess. It's shameful, but true. Sometimes I get bored in church. One such morning some months ago (as I listened to yet another sermon on marriage - probably the reason why my mind was wandering), I was flipping through the concordance of my trusty Thompson Chain Reference Bible when I came across an entry that spurred my poetic interest: the Bruised Reed.
Curiosity piqued, I read through the first verse listed and found it to be a beautiful commentary on the love of Christ. It's found in Isaiah 42:3 -
A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench: he shall bring forth judgment unto truth.
It sounded so poetic, so hopeful, and so lovely, that I just had to dig deeper into this beautiful promise...but not until after church. I reformed my bad behavior, returned my attention to the sermon on marriage, and filed this little verse away in the back of my addled brain for later reference and comment.
A few days later (though it has taken me quite a lot longer to process it and write about it), I began the process that I use to research a verse that interests me. I traced the verse, along with the concept of the reed, both bruised and not, the use of flax, why it would be smoking, and what in the world all that talk about judgment unto truth might mean. My research left me a bit unsettled at first, because the deeper I shoveled into the complex metaphor presented in this scripture (who says you don't need good literary skills to survive), the more unsure I became about the meaning - which, incidentally, is the exact opposite of what I SHOULD have been feeling at the close of my careful research. So why all the confusion? Well, look at the scriptures...
The concept of the bruised reed as presented in Isaiah is comforting to those of use who have failed, erred, or otherwise strayed from the path that God initially had in mind for us. In other words, all of humanity. It lets us know that if we mess up (get bruised), He isn't going to just chunk us out and write us off as utter and complete failures. He won't "break" us.
The picture of the bruised reed presented in II Kings 18:21 is much less comforting and conventional:
Now behind, thou trust upon the staff of this bruised reed, even upon Egypt, on which if a man lean, it will go into his hand and pierce it: so if Pharoah the king of Egypt unto all that trust in him.
Well, suddenly my hopeful little reed is compared to Egypt? That scourge of the books of history? Not only that, but the image presented is really quite violent...when you trust in a bruised reed - you LEAN ON that bruised reed - it will pierce you through the hand, damaging you! Keep in mind that a broken reed is pretty useless; it's discarded. But a bruised reed? It is an inadvertent weapon. It doesn't present itself too badly, but when you put pressure upon it in the damaged places, it splinters and can cut you through.
Another confession...I didn't know much about reeds. So using my trusty Google search engine, I looked them up. Turns out they are very useful, but not particularly sturdy. You don't want to rely on them for work that requires great strength and stability; it's not the way they are built. They aren't very flexible; they can be quite sharp. And then it dawned on me...I've known a few people who were "reeds," and more than a few of them were bruised.
These are the people who never quite reach that point of spiritual maturity that allows them to endure suffering with joy. They view every pain as a personal punishment from God, or maybe some consequence they are paying for someone else's actions. Instead of trusting God through these bad times, they become embittered. And while the outward signs of their wounding cover over, the inner bruises remain.
Another revelation: I've leaned on a bruised reed or two, thinking they were staffs of strength that could help me through my weak moments and difficult times. As a result of my leaning where I shouldn't have, I bear the scars. Those relationships cut me deeply, and the wounds have taken longer to heal than might have been imagined when I was looking at the reed. After all, it was tall, and if you didn't look too closely, it had the appearance of a staff...
Then there's that smoking flax that God doesn't quench...ever met those people who hover in a perpetual cloud of pain and bitterness? They've been hurt, and they have come to like the feeling they have in the smoke of grief. It permeates the atmosphere when they enter a room, "smoking" it up, so to speak. Their bitterness is like a fog that limits the vision and clarity of everyone in the room; it lingers like a haze after they leave, smoking in their unwillingness to let go of the past. Yep, I've known some people who resemble smoking flax too...
So why doesn't God just "take care" of them? You know, either heal them or "take care" of them in slightly more Al Pacino sense of the words? Why would a LOVING GOD let a damaged unstable person - a bruised reed - continue walking around spreading the joy of their damaged psyche? Simple. His word says He won't break them. Why would a God who does NOT author confusion allow those smoking-flax-people to continue spreading their smoky contention and strife? Because He loves them, too. He loves the reed, seeing it as it was before it was broken. He loves the flax; He created it for a purpose, and He is unwilling to simply destroy it when some portion of its use could be salvaged. The long and short of it is this: He is not going to destroy those who have the potential to wound you simply to help you avoid pain. He wants you to learn to COPE with pain, not run from it. In other words, He is giving you a chance to prove that you are more than a reed; that you can survive pain without being bruised or broken...
Now, God is a just God, and after these precious moments of revelation, I didn't figure He would mind much if I asked a question or two...so I did. "God," I said, "it doesn't seem quite fair that the bruised reed over there that You left lying around and I - in good faith mind you - decided to lean on has cut me to pieces, and yet it still looks pretty much as it did when I picked it up. I'm a figuratively bloody mess with these open wounds where the bruised reed cut into my flesh, and yet it doesn't appear all that affected by our encounter."
Well, God, being that He has a sense of humor, replied to me in a typical manner: "To the first point, maybe your flesh needed a few cuts. To the second, I will judge unto truth. That which is hidden will be revealed - but that will be for my glory and the redemption of the reed, not your reputation." So there is the end of the story. God doesn't particularly mind if I look bad; He doesn't even mind the APPEARANCE of being unjust, if a soul hangs in the balance. Because ultimately, those appearances matter little. What matters is the end result, and whether I trust in His sovereign sense of justice, mercy, grace, and love...
We will encounter the bruised reeds and smoking flax among us. Over time, we may even come to recognize them, and maybe we can protect ourselves. Maybe, just maybe, He will use our pain to equip us to help some of them... But ultimately, we must remember that our temporary wounds means little when weighted against the salvation of a soul. He will allow them to exist - to hurt us temporarily - if the ultimate goal of salvation is gained...
Curiosity piqued, I read through the first verse listed and found it to be a beautiful commentary on the love of Christ. It's found in Isaiah 42:3 -
A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench: he shall bring forth judgment unto truth.
It sounded so poetic, so hopeful, and so lovely, that I just had to dig deeper into this beautiful promise...but not until after church. I reformed my bad behavior, returned my attention to the sermon on marriage, and filed this little verse away in the back of my addled brain for later reference and comment.
A few days later (though it has taken me quite a lot longer to process it and write about it), I began the process that I use to research a verse that interests me. I traced the verse, along with the concept of the reed, both bruised and not, the use of flax, why it would be smoking, and what in the world all that talk about judgment unto truth might mean. My research left me a bit unsettled at first, because the deeper I shoveled into the complex metaphor presented in this scripture (who says you don't need good literary skills to survive), the more unsure I became about the meaning - which, incidentally, is the exact opposite of what I SHOULD have been feeling at the close of my careful research. So why all the confusion? Well, look at the scriptures...
The concept of the bruised reed as presented in Isaiah is comforting to those of use who have failed, erred, or otherwise strayed from the path that God initially had in mind for us. In other words, all of humanity. It lets us know that if we mess up (get bruised), He isn't going to just chunk us out and write us off as utter and complete failures. He won't "break" us.
The picture of the bruised reed presented in II Kings 18:21 is much less comforting and conventional:
Now behind, thou trust upon the staff of this bruised reed, even upon Egypt, on which if a man lean, it will go into his hand and pierce it: so if Pharoah the king of Egypt unto all that trust in him.
Well, suddenly my hopeful little reed is compared to Egypt? That scourge of the books of history? Not only that, but the image presented is really quite violent...when you trust in a bruised reed - you LEAN ON that bruised reed - it will pierce you through the hand, damaging you! Keep in mind that a broken reed is pretty useless; it's discarded. But a bruised reed? It is an inadvertent weapon. It doesn't present itself too badly, but when you put pressure upon it in the damaged places, it splinters and can cut you through.
Another confession...I didn't know much about reeds. So using my trusty Google search engine, I looked them up. Turns out they are very useful, but not particularly sturdy. You don't want to rely on them for work that requires great strength and stability; it's not the way they are built. They aren't very flexible; they can be quite sharp. And then it dawned on me...I've known a few people who were "reeds," and more than a few of them were bruised.
These are the people who never quite reach that point of spiritual maturity that allows them to endure suffering with joy. They view every pain as a personal punishment from God, or maybe some consequence they are paying for someone else's actions. Instead of trusting God through these bad times, they become embittered. And while the outward signs of their wounding cover over, the inner bruises remain.
Another revelation: I've leaned on a bruised reed or two, thinking they were staffs of strength that could help me through my weak moments and difficult times. As a result of my leaning where I shouldn't have, I bear the scars. Those relationships cut me deeply, and the wounds have taken longer to heal than might have been imagined when I was looking at the reed. After all, it was tall, and if you didn't look too closely, it had the appearance of a staff...
Then there's that smoking flax that God doesn't quench...ever met those people who hover in a perpetual cloud of pain and bitterness? They've been hurt, and they have come to like the feeling they have in the smoke of grief. It permeates the atmosphere when they enter a room, "smoking" it up, so to speak. Their bitterness is like a fog that limits the vision and clarity of everyone in the room; it lingers like a haze after they leave, smoking in their unwillingness to let go of the past. Yep, I've known some people who resemble smoking flax too...
So why doesn't God just "take care" of them? You know, either heal them or "take care" of them in slightly more Al Pacino sense of the words? Why would a LOVING GOD let a damaged unstable person - a bruised reed - continue walking around spreading the joy of their damaged psyche? Simple. His word says He won't break them. Why would a God who does NOT author confusion allow those smoking-flax-people to continue spreading their smoky contention and strife? Because He loves them, too. He loves the reed, seeing it as it was before it was broken. He loves the flax; He created it for a purpose, and He is unwilling to simply destroy it when some portion of its use could be salvaged. The long and short of it is this: He is not going to destroy those who have the potential to wound you simply to help you avoid pain. He wants you to learn to COPE with pain, not run from it. In other words, He is giving you a chance to prove that you are more than a reed; that you can survive pain without being bruised or broken...
Now, God is a just God, and after these precious moments of revelation, I didn't figure He would mind much if I asked a question or two...so I did. "God," I said, "it doesn't seem quite fair that the bruised reed over there that You left lying around and I - in good faith mind you - decided to lean on has cut me to pieces, and yet it still looks pretty much as it did when I picked it up. I'm a figuratively bloody mess with these open wounds where the bruised reed cut into my flesh, and yet it doesn't appear all that affected by our encounter."
Well, God, being that He has a sense of humor, replied to me in a typical manner: "To the first point, maybe your flesh needed a few cuts. To the second, I will judge unto truth. That which is hidden will be revealed - but that will be for my glory and the redemption of the reed, not your reputation." So there is the end of the story. God doesn't particularly mind if I look bad; He doesn't even mind the APPEARANCE of being unjust, if a soul hangs in the balance. Because ultimately, those appearances matter little. What matters is the end result, and whether I trust in His sovereign sense of justice, mercy, grace, and love...
We will encounter the bruised reeds and smoking flax among us. Over time, we may even come to recognize them, and maybe we can protect ourselves. Maybe, just maybe, He will use our pain to equip us to help some of them... But ultimately, we must remember that our temporary wounds means little when weighted against the salvation of a soul. He will allow them to exist - to hurt us temporarily - if the ultimate goal of salvation is gained...
