“A bruised reed He will not break, and A smoldering wick He will not snuff out.” Isaiah 42:3
I was about 14 years old, and not doing well. In those days, (yes…long ago), people did not talk much about depression. . . certainly not for Christians to experience. And certainly not
concerning a young teenager.
But I was very, very sad. I spent lots of time in my bedroom, with the door shut and alone. I
was a “PK” . . . a Pastor’s Kid. I had known Jesus’ presence in my life since I was about 3 years old. I knew that He was in my heart, and that He loved me. But I was not doing well at all, not understanding the sadness that was filling my heart and mind.
I remember sitting down on my bed, and picking up my Bible. It was a very familiar Book for
me, and I knew that God was always near, and that He would always listen to me when I talked to Him.
But I was going through a very dark time in my young life. . . for the first time. I did not doubt His love for me. I did not doubt that He was as near to me in my sadness and in my very room. I had never experienced such an overwhelming emotion of sadness and hopelessness before. There were things going on in my personal world that were making me feel things I had not felt before.
I remember silently saying to God something like, “God, I don’t know what to do with the deep sadness I am feeling. But I know that I very much need to hear something from You to stop this dark feeling in my heart. I need Your Help!”
I let my Bible fall open on my lap as I sat on the edge of my bed. The page that was before me was not from a familiar place in my Bible. My eyes fell on a verse I did not remember ever hearing before.
“A bruised reed He will not break,
And a smoldering wick
He will not snuff out.”
Isaiah 42:3
As I read the verse through my tears, I knew that I was that “bruised reed”, and I was that
“smoldering wick.” And I knew that there was only a tiny glimmer of light, a dying wick that held any hope for me.
But it was enough of a glimmer for God to so gently breathe into life. It was enough for Him to work with, tiny as it was. It was enough to reassure me that He was in my room with me. He saw me. He saw that tiny wick about to go out. No shame. No “tsk-tsk” about my sadness. And with the gentlest of a Whispered Breath, that little speck of flame began to glow again. I knew He was so very near. . . and He was not going to let it die. It was enough for the waning ember to return to a small flame. . .
The bruised reed began to mend. The tiny glimmer began to glow. And neither have ever
again been so near to being snuffed out since that Day, long ago, when God came so very
near.
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