"A bruised reed He will not break,
and a smoldering wick He will not snuff out . . ."
Isaiah 42:3, NIV
I have been told grace can be defined as unmerited favor.
Well, I am a true recipient of divine grace.
Grace, as I’ve come to gauge, has seen fit to grant me the
honor of enduring hard things, extremely grueling trials in the forty years I
have walked the face of this earth. Truly, my life’s narrative defies simple
human understanding.
How does a 3-year old sit in a roofless room and watch his
family’s material possessions being soaked by a harsh thunderstorm? How does a
6-year old trudge onward as his heart becomes shredded and torn by jeers and
jabs from bullies left and right at school, at church, and at play? How does an
8-year old move past witnessing the murder of a man whose ill-starred error was
the audacity to cut in line? How does a teenage boy survive the enduring of a
shameful season of sexual harassment and abuse that threatened to undo his
pursuit of dignity and worth?
How does a college student go through months and months of
10 meals a week at Biola University, choosing to rely on the delights of Chopin
and Schubert to shush his rumbling stomach in the Crowell Hall practice rooms?
How does a graduate student at Penn State recline his head on the shoulders of
his Song Literature professor as his salty tears stained her blouse the day
when two planes imperiled and destroyed thousands of lives in New York City?
How does one finish a tear-jerking doctoral recital the day after a friend and
fellow Eastman student—brilliant and promising—was tragically killed in one of
the most preventable car crashes known to humanity?
How does a native go on after watching his childhood home
crumbled and Haitian historic sites pancaked by a 7.0 earthquake? How does a
man face the amputation of a cousin’s leg? How does one weather the deaths of a
cousin who stayed in his office three minutes too long, friends who fought
cancer valiantly, a father who had a fatal heart attack, a brother who was
tragically murdered, a brother whose heart failed on the way to a Dominican
hospital, and a sister who succumbed to cancer (yet again!) at a young age, all
within a 5-year span?
How does one bid farewell in the multi-faceted ways life
offers? How does one handle receiving yet another fatal diagnosis? How does one
weather storm after storm . . . enter valley after valley of the shadow of
death . . . weep yet not lose heart . . . walk yet not faint . . . face
mourning at night yet dance in the morning?
How?
It is all by His grace.
Indeed, I am a bruised reed. I am a stalk that has been injured,
wounded, hurt, sore, damaged, battered, discolored and severely beaten.
YET . . . (Oh glory!)
The Father will not, nor will He ever, fracture or destroy
or smash me. He will continue to uphold me.
I am, by His grace, a smoldering wick. Since by definition,
a wick holds fuel that burns, I am learning to trust He will not snuff me out.
These fiery trials that threaten to undo me will not consume me; they are
glorious tests heavenly tasked to reveal to me how extremely needy I am.
Yes, I am needy.
I need the gracious eyes of Christ to weep with mine. I need
His tender hands to wipe away tears streaming from my faucet-like eyes. I need
His robust and warm arms to envelop my frame and comfort me. I need His loving
and soothing voice to serenade me. I need His ancient, ever-true, life-giving
words to strike my eardrums and reverberate and transform my heart into the
knowledge of God and the likeness of Christ.
I need Him.
I need Him.
I need Him.
As He comes and fills my need, He will strengthen my feeble
arms and weak knees. He will prepare me to endure rightly and gratefully.
O, come, Lord Jesus!
Come quickly!
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