Sept. 8

Charles Spurgeon · Faith's Checkbook

BROKEN AND SMOKING

   "A bruised reed shall he not break, and the smoking flax shall he not
   quench" Isa. 42:3

   Then I may reckon upon tender treatment from my Lord. Indeed, I feel
   myself to be at best as weak, as pliant, as worthless as a reed.
   Someone said, "I don't care a rush for you," and the speech, though
   unkind, was not untrue. Alas! I am worse than a reed when it grows by
   the river, for that at least can hold up its head. I am bruised,
   sorely, sadly bruised. There is no music in me now; there is a rift
   which lets out all the melody. Ah, me! Yet Jesus will not break me; and
   if he will not, then I mind little what others try to do. O sweet and
   compassionate Lord, I nestle down beneath thy protection, and forget my
   bruises!

   Truly I am also fit to be likened to "the smoking flax," whose light is
   gone, and only its smoke remains. I fear I am rather a nuisance than a
   benefit. My fears tell me that the devil has blown out my light, and
   left me an obnoxious smoke, and that my Lord will soon put an
   extinguisher upon me. Yet I perceive that though there were snuffers
   under the law, there were no extinguishers; and Jesus will not quench
   me; therefore, I am hopeful. Lord, kindle me anew, and cause me to
   shine forth to thy glory, and to the extolling of thy tenderness.