What could be weaker than a bruised reed or smoking flax? Picture a reed growing in the marsh. Let a wild duck land on it, and it snaps. Let someone's foot brush against it, and it's crushed. Every wind across the water makes it bend and sway. You cannot imagine anything more fragile, more breakable, more likely to be destroyed than a bruised reed.

And smoking flax—what is that? Yes, there's a spark buried somewhere in there, but it's nearly smothered. An infant's breath could blow it out. Nothing exists more precariously than that struggling flame.

These are the weak things Scripture describes. Yet Jesus says of them: "The smoking flax I will not quench. The bruised reed I will not break."

Now, some of God's children are made strong to do mighty works for him. God has his Samsons here and there who can pull up Gaza's gates and carry them to the hilltop. He has a few mighty ones, lion-hearted men and women. But most of his people? We are a timid, trembling race. We're like starlings, frightened at every passerby. A fearful little flock.

When temptation comes, we're caught like birds in a snare. When trials threaten, we're ready to faint. Our frail vessel is tossed up and down by every wave. We drift along like a seabird on the crest of the billows—weak things, without strength, without wisdom, without foresight.

Yet weak as we are—and because we are so weak—this promise is made especially for us. Here is grace and graciousness! Here is love and lovingkindness! How it reveals to us the compassion of Jesus—so gentle, tender, considerate!

We need never shrink back from his touch. We need never fear a harsh word from him. Though he might well rebuke us for our weakness, he does not. Bruised reeds shall have no blows from him, and the smoking flax no damping frowns.