🌿 Devotional: A Bruised Reed He Will Not Break
“A bruised reed He will not break, and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out. In faithfulness He will bring forth justice.”
— Isaiah 42:3 (also quoted in Matthew 12:20)
💧 Reflection
We live in a world that often discards what is fragile and forgets those who fall behind. The bruised reed—bent, splintered, and barely standing—seems to have no value to the hurried and hardened. But Jesus sees worth where others see weakness.
This verse speaks of the gentle nature of our Savior. He doesn’t crush the hurting. He doesn’t extinguish those whose flame is fading. Instead, He moves toward the brokenhearted, upholds the weak, and restores the soul on the verge of giving up.
You may feel like a bruised reed today—wounded by life, bent beneath burdens, doubting your strength. Or like a smoldering wick—once on fire for God, but now barely glowing, flickering in fear, discouragement, or fatigue.
But Jesus doesn’t turn away. He kneels beside the bruised, and breathes gently upon the wick. Where others might see something disposable, He sees someone redeemable.
✨ Application
- Are there parts of your life that feel too broken for God to heal?
- Have you disqualified yourself because you’re not as strong or vibrant as you used to be?
- Can you receive the tenderness of Christ today?
Let Jesus meet you in your weakness. He is not repelled by your pain; He is drawn to it. The bruised reed is not broken in His hands—it is strengthened. The fading flame is not quenched—it is rekindled.
🙏 Prayer
Gentle Savior, thank You for loving the bruised, the broken, and the burnt-out. Thank You that You don’t discard me in my weakness, but You draw near with mercy. Restore what is bent in me. Fan the faint embers of my faith. Hold me in Your healing hands, and make me whole again. Amen.
A gentle and comforting poem inspired by Isaiah 42:3 and Matthew 12:20:
A Bruised Reed He Will Not Break
by S.H.W.
A bruised reed sways in winds of pain,
Bent low beneath the heavy rain.
Its stem is weak, its fibers torn,
A picture of a heart forlorn.
Yet He who walks where sorrows tread
Will not crush what bows its head.
He sees the wound, He feels the ache—
A bruised reed He will not break.
A smoldering wick with fading flame,
No longer bright, no more the same,
Still holds a spark, though wrapped in doubt—
He will not snuff that ember out.
His hands are kind, His touch is light,
He heals the soul, restores the sight.
He lifts the weak, revives the worn,
And cradles those the world has scorned.
So if you’re bent, or barely stand,
Reach gently for the Savior’s hand.
He loves and tends and bids you stay,
He does not turn His face away.