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The sermon centers on Matthew 12:20 and presents Christ as exceptionally tender toward spiritually bruised and faint believers. Conviction of sin is not intended to destroy the believer but to bring the sinner to Christ, while backsliders are not beyond restoration. Spurgeon stresses that every believer is equally justified through Christ’s blood and imputed righteousness, regardless of spiritual maturity or perceived usefulness. Because believers belong to Christ and are preserved by Him, every saint—including the weakest—will ultimately share in His victory.
Theological center: Jesus Christ preserves His weak people, fully justifies them through His righteousness, and brings every true saint safely into victory.
Applications: Come to Jesus in Conviction · Take Courage in Justification · Do Not Despair of Weakness · Persevere to Final Victory
Primary texts: Matthew 12:20 · Matthew 11:29 · Psalm 73:26
“A bruised reed shall he not break, and smoking flax shall he not quench, till he send forth judgment unto victory.” Matthew 12:20 BABBLING fame always loves to talk of one man or another. Some there be whose glory it trumpets forth and whose honor it extols above the heavens. Some are her favorites, and their names are carved on marble, and heard in every land and every clime. Fame is not an impartial judge, she has her favorites. Some men she extols, exalts, and almost deifies—others, whose virtues are far greater, and whose characters are more deserving of commendation, she passes by unheeded and puts the finger of silence on her lips. You will generally find that those persons beloved by fame are men made of brass or iron, and cast in a rough mold. Fame caresses Caesar, because he ruled the earth with a rod of iron. Fame loves Luther, because he boldly and manfully defied the Pope of Rome, and with knit brow dared laugh at the thunders of the Vatican. Fame admires Knox, for he was stern and proved himself the bravest of the brave. Generally, you will find her choosing out the men of fire and mettle, who stood before their fellow creatures fearless of them—men who were made of courage, who were consolidated lumps of fearlessness and never knew what timidity might be. But you know there is another class of persons equally virtuous and equally to be esteemed— perhaps even more so—whom fame entirely forgets. You do not hear her talk of the gentle-minded Melancthon—she says but little of him—yet he did as much, perhaps, in the Reformation, as even the mighty Luther. You do not hear fame talk much of the sweet and blessed Rutherford, and of the heavenly words that distilled from his lips. Or of Archbishop Leighton, of whom it was said that he was never out of temper in his life. She loves the rough granite peaks that defy the storm cloud. She does not care for the more humble stone in the valley, on which the weary traveler rests. She wants something bold and prominent, something that courts popularity, something that stands out before the world. She does not care for those who retreat in shade. Hence, it is, my brethren, that the blessed Jesus, our adorable Master, has escaped fame. No one says much about Jesus, except His followers. We do not find His name written amongst the great and mighty men—though, in truth, He is the greatest, mightiest, holiest, purest, and best of men that ever lived. But because He was, “Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,” and was emphatically the man whose kingdom is not of this world—because He had nothing of the rough about Him,…