The adaptations of Divine grace.
This verse describes the general spirit and tone of the Divine dealings with men; but, as it takes distinctly personal form, we are justified in seeing in Christ the type and specimen of such dealings. As God manifest, he illustrates the graciousness of God's ways. And this aspect of Christ is of special concern to us now. The time is coming when we shall think most of the glory of the Lord; in the time that now is we think most of his grace. We are still journeying under the clouds; we are still in the land of the fainting, the struggling, and the weeping. The night is passing, but it is not past; the victory is nearing, but it is not won; and therefore it is so precious to us that we may bear of the tender, compassionate, sympathizing Redeemer. We are little better than bruised reeds and smouldering flax; therefore it is good to hear of him who will not break the bruised reed, nor quench the smoking flax.
I. CHRIST'S WAY OF DEALING WITH BRUISED REEDS, OR HUMBLED SINNERS. The reed fittingly represents the sinner. It stands so straight, apparently so strong, and yet it is one of the weakest things that grow. It cannot endure the least rough usage. The passing storm will bend and bruise and spoil it. Of all the helpless things, perhaps a bruised reed is the most helpless. There is much confidence and apparent strength in the sinner, at least so long as life goes smoothly and blue sky is overhead. But let the clouds lower, let the burden of life press heavily, let God touch with the afflicting hand, let God try him with sore bereavements, and then the poor reed is bruised and hanging. And it is God's way to bruise such reeds. The beginning of hope for sinners lies in their humbling under God's mighty hand. See some of the ways in which this humbling work is done.
1. Sometimes God lets men run themselves tired and work themselves weary in the effort to gain a righteousness for themselves. Men are permitted to hurry after the flickering light, over moor and bog, until, fainting, they lose sight for ever of the vain hope. Men are permitted to build the house of their morality upon the sands of self-confidence, and then, just as they would enter and dwell in peace, they find the foundations sinking and the storm-floods overwhelming. Men are permitted to grasp at world-success and worldly wealth, and then they are led to ask all these things, "What can you buy for my soul's good?" And, sick at heart, they must hear the answer, "Not one word of peace; not one sun-glint of hope; not one cheer for the dark river and the darker beyond." Many a man has come, since the days of Solomon, out of the trim of all human offers of happiness, to cry, bruised and humbled before God, "Vanity of vanities, all is vanity."
2. Sometimes God directs his providences to the humbling of men by heavy sorrows and cares. He lets their boasted strength bear the brunt of severe and subtle temptations. He finds the joints in the armour, and sends there the arrows that pierce. But he only bruises; he does not break. He may hold back awhile; he never utterly forsakes. He may hide behind a cloud, but he keeps on looking, even through the veil of the cloud, waiting until the response to his gracious dealings comes," We will return unto the Lord: for he hath torn, and he will heal us."
II. CHRIST'S WAY OF DEALING WITH SMOKING FLAX, OR FEEBLE BELIEVERS. The best explanation of this figure is that flax was used in the East for the wicks of oil-lamps, and these wicks, unless well cut and constantly trimmed, gave but a flickering, smoky light. A striking illustration of feeble Christians, whose life is a smoke rather than a fire, a spark rather than a light, a glimmer rather than a glow, a name to live rather than a life.
1. The beginnings of Christian life are often very feeble; the smoking flax needs raising to a flame. In the case of Nicodemus there was a little desire, a little spiritual anxiety, a little longing alter high and holy things, a little smoking of the flax. And most tenderly did the Lord breathe upon it, and blow upon it, and try to raise the flame. The rich young ruler had a little smoking of the flax, a little yearning after the "eternal life." And Christ sought to tan it into a flame that should consume even his love for his "great possessions."
2. The figure also represents those conditions of spiritual decline to which we are all exposed, and which make sad places here and there in the story of our Christian lives. Happy indeed is that man who does not know what it is for his spiritual light to become only a smoking wick. And he who has wrought so great a work in us must be sorely grieved when the flame grows dim, the oil of grace is not renewed, and no good atmosphere of trust and prayer nourishes and clears the light. And yet, though grieved, he does "not quench." Bunyan tells us of the fire in the wall, and of one who poured water upon it to quench it. It was not Christ who acted thus. He pours on the oil of grace, until the flame is, made to glow and blaze in power and beauty. But sometimes he holds back his grace, and lets the water almost quench the fire in the dull and careless soul. Many must confess that it is even so with them. Awhile ago the flame was all glowing; amid now there are only a few curlings and wreathings of smoke, and scarcely one feeble flame—the waters of the world, self-indulgence, pride, and neglected Christian duty have nearly quenched it. Leave it but a little longer, and the last flicker will die out. Conclude by showing the way for such feeble believers back to Christ. who "waiteth to be gracious." "O Lord, revive thy work in the midst of the years, in the midst of the years make known; in wrath remember mercy;" "Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation."—R.T.