Metropolitan Tabernacle Pulpit · Sermon No. 1831
“The smoking flax shall He not quench.” Isaiah 42:3.
I BELIEVE that the first sense of these words is not the one usually given to them, nor yet the one upon which I intend to preach tonight. We read in the 12th of Matthew that our Divine Lord was assailed by the scribes and Pharisees, but He did not enter, at that time, into controversy with them, neither did He make them the perpetual target of His observations. Considering what hypocrites they were and what boundless mischief they were doing, He treated them very gently, indeed. They were, compared to Him, but as bruised reeds and as the smoking flax, and He could, if He had pleased, have broken them up altogether, or have altogether quenched them—but He did not come to be a mere controversialist. He was, in truth, the greatest of all Reformers, but He was not so much a breaker-down as He was a builder-up. He came not so much to drive out error by reason, as to expel it by the natural and efficient process of putting the Truth of God into its place. So, to a large extent, He left these scribes and Pharisees, and other opponents, alone, and He went quietly on with His own work of healing the sick and saving the sinful—a very good lesson to us.
We get a little pugnacious, sometimes, and seek religious controversy. But our Savior did not strive, nor cry, nor cause His voice to be heard in the streets—a bruised reed He did not break and a smoking flax He did not quench. The best way to put out the twinkling light of a smoking flax was to let the sun shine. Then nobody could see it! Instead of talking down these bruised reeds, He set up the higher claim of sure and certain truth, for men would not care to trust in bruised reeds when they had once seen something more stable and worthy to be relied upon. You and I will best put down error by preaching the Truth of God. If we preach up Christ, the devil goes down. If a crooked stick is before you, you need not explain how crooked it is—lay a straight one down by the side of it and the work is well done. Preach the Truth of God and error will stand abashed in its presence.
That is, no doubt, the first meaning of this passage, as you will see by the connection in Matthew. It is said, “A bruised reed shall He not break, and smoking flax shall He not quench, till He sends forth judgment unto victory.” When the Lord sends forth judgment unto victory, then it will be all over with the bruised reed and the smoking flax of the hypocrite, the Pharisee, the formalist, the legalist and every other opponent.
Usually these words are understood to mean that Jesus Christ will deal very gently with timid Believers and this meaning is not to be rejected for, in the first place, it is true. And, in the second place, it is true out of this text, also, for if our Lord Jesus, in His lifetime, was gentle even to hypocrites, how much more will He be gentle to sincere but timorous spirits? If it is true that He will not quench the smoking flax even of a Pharisee, how much more true must it be that the smoking flax of a penitent shall not be quenched! So that, if the text does not say what is generally understood by it, it implies it and the words so clearly run into the meaning that is commonly given to them.
I take it that there is a kind of instinct in the Church, so that even when judged according to criticism, she may seem to misapply a passage of Scripture. She generally does not misapply it, but only brings out a second light which was always behind the first and which shines none the less brightly, but all the more so, because the first was there. I shall therefore take the text to mean something other than I have stated. “The smoking flax shall He not quench,” is a text for you timorous, desponding, feeble-minded and yet, true-hearted Believers, and you may appropriate it to yourselves. May the Holy Spirit help you to do so!
I. In talking of it, at this time, I shall first enquire, WHAT STATE THIS METAPHOR REPRESENTS. A smoking flax represents a state in which there is a little good. The margin is “dimly burning flax.” It is burning, but it is burning
very dimly. There is a spark of good within the heart. You, my dear Friend, have a little faith. It is not much bigger than a grain of mustard seed, but faith of that size has great power in it! I wish that your faith would grow to a tree, but I am very glad that you have any, even though it is minute as the mustard seed. You have a desire, too, after better things. You are always wanting to be more holy. You love to be among God’s people and though, sometimes, you are afraid that you are not one of them, you would give all that you have to be sure that you were, for you love their conversation. Having those desires, you pray. “O Sir,” you say, “it is not worth calling prayer!” Well, we will not call it prayer, then, but it is prayer, for sometimes, when not even a word is spoken, the desire of the heart is a most acceptable pleading with God. “O Sir,” you say, “but I do not always desire alike!” I am very sorry that it is so. I wish you always had a strong desire after Christ. Still, you do desire. There is a longing, a desiring, a panting, a hungering, a thirsting—therefore there is some little good in you.