Written by R.C. Sproul |
Saturday, April 23, 2022
The idea of being the Substitute in offering an atonement to satisfy the demands of God’s law for others was something Christ understood as His mission from the moment He entered this world and took upon Himself a human nature. He came from heaven as the gift of the Father for the express purpose of working out redemption as our Substitute, doing for us what we could not possibly do for ourselves. We see this at the very beginning of Jesus’ ministry, when He initiated His public work by coming to the Jordan River and meeting John the Baptist.

The word vicarious is extremely important to our understanding of the atonement of Christ. The late Swiss theologian Karl Barth once said that, in his judgment, the single most important word in all of the Greek New Testament is the minuscule word huper. This little word is translated by the English phrase “in behalf of.” Barth was clearly engaging in a bit of hyperbole in making this statement, because many words in the New Testament are arguably as important or even more important than huper, but he was simply seeking to call attention to the importance of what is known in theology as the vicarious aspect of the ministry of Jesus.
He made satisfaction for our debt, our enmity with God, and our guilt. He satisfied the ransom demand for our release from captivity to sin. However, there is another significant word that is often used in descriptions of the atonement: substitution. When we look at the biblical depiction of sin as a crime, we see that Jesus acts as the Substitute, taking our place at the bar of God’s justice. For this reason, we sometimes speak of Jesus’ work on the cross as the substitutionary atonement of Christ, which means that when He offered an atonement, it was not to satisfy God’s justice for His own sins, but for the sins of others. He stepped into the role of the Substitute, representing His people. He didn’t lay down His life for Himself; He laid it down for His sheep. He is our ultimate Substitute.
The idea of being the Substitute in offering an atonement to satisfy the demands of God’s law for others was something Christ understood as His mission from the moment He entered this world and took upon Himself a human nature. He came from heaven as the gift of the Father for the express purpose of working out redemption as our Substitute, doing for us what we could not possibly do for ourselves. We see this at the very beginning of Jesus’ ministry, when He initiated His public work by coming to the Jordan River and meeting John the Baptist.
Imagine the scene at the Jordan that day. John was busy baptizing the people in preparation for the coming of the kingdom. Suddenly he looked up and saw Jesus approaching. He spoke the words that later became the lyrics for that great hymn of the church, the Agnus Dei: “‘Behold! The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!’” (John 1:29b). He announced that Jesus was the One Who had come to bear the sin of His people.
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Who can know the mind of the Lord? His ways are not our ways, and His thoughts are not our thoughts. We must be careful, then, not to impose our own sense of logic and timing on our circumstances. Because what we perceive to be a step back is still a step forward – one that, even if it might seem to be “lesser” in some way – God has been preparing us for.

God’s sovereignty is a comforting thing, especially if you find yourself in a life circumstance that doesn’t seem to make sense. This is not a scenario of sin; it’s not a circumstance that came as a result of bad or unwise choices; it’s just a season that you have “fallen into”, in a sense, and you wonder how you got there.
Perhaps it’s a time when you are in a job you don’t enjoy or you don’t feel like makes the most of your abilities. Or maybe it’s a time when you had to move into some kind of temporary housing because the house you were trying to buy fell through. Or maybe it’s a time when you moved to a new place with great hopes and you haven’t been able to make good friends. These are tough times, and in some ways, times like these can feel like a step in the wrong direction. That is, you were at one point in your life, and then things went backward despite your best intentions and attempts to follow the Lord’s will.
These are moments when it’s good to remember that:
A king’s heart is like channeled water in the Lord’s hand:He directs it wherever he chooses (Prov. 21:1).
and…
{God} changes times and seasons;    he deposes kings and raises up others.He gives wisdom to the wise    and knowledge to the discerning.He reveals deep and hidden things;    he knows what lies in darkness,    and light dwells with him (Dan. 2:21-22).
Even when it seems like you have taken a step backward in life, God is sovereign.
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Because Jesus bore that great bruising, the bruising of God’s children may be chastisement and correction, but it is not punishment. The Lord bruises us for our good. He teaches us to return to him and find healing. So he is patient with bruised reeds “until he leads justice to victory” (Matt 12:20), when he fulfills his plans. So let us remember that we are bruised reeds and that Jesus is gentle with us.

Among the early English Puritans, none has greater pastoral insight and enduring readability than Richard Sibbes. This blog hopes to honor his classic work, The Bruised Reed. First published in 1630, it opens with Matthew 12:18-21, which cites Isaiah 42.
Behold, my servant whom I have chosen… a bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not quench, until he brings justice to victory; and in his name the Gentiles will hope.”
Reeds grew by the millions in marshes and river banks in Israel, so they had scant value. One could cut and shape a reed to serve as a measure, flute, or writing implement. But a bruised reed was worthless. If a perfect reed is fragile and a bruised one is useless, why will Jesus not break a bruised reed and why does it matter?
It matters because we are bruised reeds. Notice, Sibbes said, that Jesus compares us to a weak thing, as Scripture often does. Among the birds, we are doves; among the beasts, we are sheep.[1]
In the eyes of Jesus, everyone – everyone – is a bruised reed. Some can go thirty years without a serious bruising. Some have a sunny disposition even when storms descend. Others thrive on crises. Still others grow up in Christian homes, with wise and loving parents, and then they married well. Nonetheless, all are bruised reeds.
Everyone is wounded. If we cannot see this, the Lord may intervene so that we do. We cannot rise to maturity unless we see our immaturity, cannot rest in his grace until we see our need for grace. Therefore the Lord may bruise us and humble us, so he can reestablish us on a better foundation. To be bruised is to see our sin and its consequences, to see our weakness. It is to see that we have weaknesses, quite apart from sin, areas of inability, even incompetence, so that we need others. The bruised reed is weak at best, and then it is wounded. A bruised reed cannot heal itself and the wise man despairs of healing himself. Yet the hope of healing remains, for the bruised reed looks beyond itself, to Christ.
There are two kinds of bruised reed: the rebel and the believer. The rebel, together with skeptics and spiritual sluggards, have no interest in spiritual things. God may use pain, a bruising, to pierce and waken a slumbering heart. That bruising may lead him to faith. The gospel may cease to be a rumor and become life-giving narrative of God’s work. That bruising may enable him to treasure Christ.
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