“He (Jesus) will not crush the weakest reed or put out a flickering candle.” Isa. 42:3
Lord Jesus, we’ve had the great joy of spending this weekend celebrating the 40th anniversary of dear friends, whose 60th birthdays bracket their 4 decades of shared life. Fortunately, our friendship with Elizabeth and Kip was spared years of pretending, posing, and “let me share my awesomeness with you.”
Our friendship was birthed in the “Gospel-infirmary”—in a season of life when, as couples, it was easy for all four of us to own our neediness and be weak. Both of which make you more beautiful and essential, Jesus. You have come to raise us from spiritual death, not raise our self-esteem and fuel our awesomeness. Who doesn’t crave friendships in which being present replaces all pressure to be impressive?
They have lived that grace-story with us so well, to wit, one of their with-child daughters, and her hubby, have decided to name their yet-to-be born son, Reed. Reed, as in you, Jesus, will not crush the weakest reed, or snuff out a flickering candle. What a name for a son, or a daughter. What a life-vision for any child you entrust to us as parents. The sooner we discover the depth of our need, the earlier we find you to be altogether lovely, and filled with kindness and grace.
When we feel like the “weakest reed” or a “flickering candle” you don’t duct-tape us so we can stand up straight, be strong and impressive. You don’t remove our excess wax and fix our wicks, just so we can offer maximum light. You meet us with welcome, mercy, and compassion. Thank you, Jesus, 10,000 times over. So Very Amen.
