I.
I once taught a young boy of about 12 years to pray. We used the Book of Common Prayer, its service for Evening Prayer. He resisted. He was angry. There were problems at home. His emotions welled up, getting the better of him, and, as he spoke, I noticed he was clenching his fists.
There was a snack on the table. It was a bowl of cheddar-flavored Goldfish crackers. I took one and put it on the top of his clenched fist. Of course, it fell off right away.
I said, “See? You can’t receive something if your fist is clenched. You have to open your hands. It’s the same with God. If you raise your fists to Him, he will resist you, but if you open your hands, He will fill them with good things.”
He understood.
Then I read this text from Isaiah 42 to him, “A bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench.”
I said, “You’re the bruised reed. You’re the dimly burning wick. You’ve been hurt. But God will not break you. God will not quench your flame. And, if you open your hands to Him, He will fill them with good things.”
After that, he and I were able to finish our prayers together.
II.
Today we read about one of those good things, a prophecy fulfilled. Speaking through His prophet, Isaiah, God tells us that He is sending us Gentiles an emissary, a servant.
This servant will “bring forth judgment to the Gentiles,” and “he shall not fail nor be discouraged, till he have set judgment in the earth.”
What do you think of when you hear the word judgment? Does this passage sound a bit like the saying, “There’s a new sheriff in town?”
How you answer will depend on what side of the law you see yourself.
If you are outside the law, an outlaw, the news of a God-appointed sheriff will not be good news.
If, however, you and your family have been terrorized for as long as you can remember by these same outlaws, you will rejoice.
III.
Maybe it’s neither. Maybe in your life judgment happens to other people. Judgment is something that doesn’t concern you unless you get pulled over or summoned for jury duty.
Perhaps this prophecy does not speak to you. You might prefer something more mystical, contemplative, or inspirational.
You might want to say to God, “Sure, send the sheriff to where he’s needed, but we could use more artists and painters and dramaturgs and motivational speakers and coaches and people to tell us how to invest. And, by the way, God, if you think we need better government, send us somebody worth voting for.”
But Isaiah doesn’t read like that. Instead, Isaiah speaks to a nation who never lives up to their potential. A people, who, in their worst moments, are utterly unworthy of God’s love.
God says, “Behold my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights.” You have heard of the chosen people? Well, now it’s down to the chosen man.
The chosen nation failed to be a light to the nations, so now one of their own must come to restore the covenant and be the light to the nations. He will open the eyes that are blind and bring the prisoners forth from the dungeon.
Isaiah ends this prophecy saying, “new things do I declare: before they spring forth I tell you of them.”
Hundreds of years pass, but no new thing comes. Nothing springs forth. Until the day came when Jesus went from Galilee to Jordan to be baptized by John.
Then everything changed.
IV.
How God handles damaged people differs sharply from how the world treats them. In a fatherly way, the Lord appointed an emissary to serve the bruised reeds and dimly burning wicks among us.
But is that how we see ourselves? How will God deal with us if we refuse to let our eyes be opened or to be led out of dark places? There is only one answer: with judgment.
The problem is we don’t know we’re blind and we don’t think we’re in prison.
Jesus’ baptism is a visible sign that He is the promised servant sent from God. Isaiah says that God has put His Spirit on Him.
Matthew’s Gospel tells us:
“And Jesus, when he was baptized, went up straightway out of the water: and, lo, the heavens were opened unto him, and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and lighting upon him:
And lo a voice from heaven, saying, This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”
The coming of Jesus is good news to those who have been crushed by sin, bad news to those who crush others with sin.
To those who have been crushed by sin, Jesus works gradual or even sudden changes to their condition.
Their eyes are opened. Their ears unstopped. Their minds clear. Yet this servant of the Lord does not harangue them. In fact, sometimes it can even be hard to hear Him. Still, He does not give up on them.
With the oppressors He bides His time, but all the while He is tracking them, like a bounty hunter, intent on bringing them to justice. “He shall not fail nor be discouraged, till he have set judgment in the earth.”
John the Baptist wonders if it is appropriate for him to baptize Jesus. He says, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?”
Jesus answers, “Let it be so now; for thus it is fitting for us to fulfil all righteousness.” Jesus’ baptism foreshadows His death on the cross. Jesus is dead set on tracking down, luring, and overthrowing the oppressor called Death.
From the start Jesus is willing to die, so that when sin is destroyed, Death will die with Him.[1]
V.
Rigor mortis is the stiffness of the muscles and joints that follows death. But so many of us, like that 12-year-old boy, walk around with our fists clenched, locked in a death grip, unable to open wide our palms to receive God’s gifts.
Why?
It is because we are spiritually dead. The light has gone dark in our hearts. Our primary spiritual muscle has hardened. Every artery is clogged. Jesus says we cannot even see (let alone enter) the kingdom of God unless we are born again.[2]
That means what I am saying to you will not make any sense if you are not born again. I will sound like the adults in a Charlie Brown movie.
“Wah-WAH-wah, wah-wah.”
If, however, something is stirring in you then it is not because of any magic in my words, casting some spell, but the Holy Spirit at work in you. And no doubt He has been working in you for a long time, keeping that dimly burning wick alight.
If I can get one point across to you today let it be this:
This we call life
is not life at all.
We are born like stone
cold statues
with our fists raised to God,
frozen in the original act
of defiance and rebellion.
Our fists clenched in futile grasp,
holding something we cannot have.
Not one more hour,
not one more day (in this pose)
will make a bit of difference.
Elsewhere, Jesus says, “That which is born of the flesh is flesh; and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.”[3]
In other words, the flesh is death, but the Spirit is life.
That 12-year-old boy learned to unclench his fists and open his hands.
The Spirit spoke to him from the dried ink and printed pages of the Bible I’d given him.
He knew already he was a bruised reed. He knew that his light could barely be seen. Maybe he even thought it could be snuffed out and that no one would notice, or care.
But he heard a different message that evening during our prayers. He heard about a faithful servant, who was also a beloved Son, who would not fail or be discouraged, until He drew the boy out of the darkness and into the light.
So, the boy opened his hand, and I gave him a Goldfish cracker, because, as you’ve certainly guessed by now, I am telling you a story about me and my son.
Jesus said:
“If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children: how much more shall your heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to them that ask him?”[4]
How many of you are asking for the Spirit to be given to you? How many of you are asking for the Spirit to be given to your children?
You and I are the bruised reeds. Our children are the dimly burning wicks. And yet the God who made heaven and earth is willing to tiptoe around and speak so gently that none of us need fear His footsteps or worry that His breath will extinguish us. That is, if we see ourselves as His humble children and can unclench our fists.
If we insist on resisting, He will deal with us in a much different way.
Preached at St. Peter’s, Lithgow, on January 8, 2023.
Isaiah 42:1-9; Acts 10:34-43; Matthew 3:13-17