HH, Sir Godfrey Gregg D.Div

“A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not quench: he shall bring forth judgment unto truth.” Isaiah 42:3

Let me rejoice in a Saviour and Lord who has Himself taken hold of my own nature in its frailties and sorrows. I may be perfectly sure of His sympathy and His support. Even if I am a bruised reed — He will not break my feebleness. Even if I am a dimly burning wick, He will not quench my flickering light. He remembers too well when they put a reed in His own hand, the one sceptre which they allowed Him; and when, in the darkness of Gethsemane and Golgotha and the grave, His light seemed altogether extinct and gone.

No, no. He uses and loves and transfigures bruised reeds. They become pens, to write the marvels of His truth and the riches of His grace. They become instruments of sweet music, to ring forth His praises in winning melody. They become columns which support and adorn His temple. They become swords and spears to rout His enemies; so that, as a poet sings, “the bruised reed is amply tough to pierce the shield of error through.”

And He loves and employs and fans into bright and glowing flame dimly burning wicks. They are changed . . .

into lamps that shine for the guidance of wandering feet,

into beacon fires that warn the voyagers from sandbank and iron coast,

into torches which hand on His message to the generation following,

into lighthouse rays and beams which conduct storm-tossed sailors to their desired haven.

I am thankful for a Lord who is so mighty and so kind. I need not despair of myself since it is Jesus with whom I have to do.