Still Smoking, Still Seen

Matt 12:20 -21 

As I sit this morning with Matthew 12 - It’s early. Quiet. I’ve been sitting with this image in my head: a bruised reed and a smoking flax. Back in the day, people made flutes from reeds. If one got bent or cracked, they’d just toss it. Same with flax—used in oil lamps. Once the oil ran out and the flax started smoking, they’d snuff it out. No use keeping something that doesn’t work.

That’s how the world operates. If you’re broken, if you’ve lost your shine, you’re done. But not with Jesus.

Some days I feel like that bruised reed—beat up, not much music left in me. Other days, I’m the smoking flax—barely a flicker, no real light. And honestly, if I were God, I’d probably toss me too. But He doesn’t. He doesn’t break me. He doesn’t snuff me out. He waits. He stays merciful.

Even when people rejected Him, He stayed soft-hearted. That’s wild. He could’ve turned cold, but He didn’t. He kept the door open. Still does.

I look around and see others like me—worn out, dimmed down. And I realize, He’s not giving up on them either. That’s not His way. He’s a King, yeah, but He’s a merciful one. You can push Him away today, and He’ll still be there tomorrow. Say “I’m sorry,” and He’ll meet you with love.

That’s the kind of Savior I need. One who doesn’t give up. One who waits. One who sees the bruises and the smoke and says, “I’m not done with you.”