Matthew 12:15-21: in context

Jesus, aware that opposition is hardening against him, withdraws quietly, and though great crowds follow and he heals them all, he orders them not to make him known. Matthew explains this reticence by quoting Isaiah's picture of the LORD's chosen servant: behold my servant, my beloved, in whom my soul delights; I will put my Spirit on him. He will not quarrel or cry aloud; no one will hear his voice in the streets. 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 nations will hope.

The prophecy Matthew chooses to describe Jesus is not one of thunder but of gentleness. The Messiah will not shout in the streets or brawl for attention; he will bring justice quietly, without the clamor and self-promotion the world associates with power. And the tenderest lines are the two images: a bruised reed he will not break, a smoldering wick he will not quench. A reed already bent and cracked, useless, the kind you would snap and toss aside; a wick barely glowing, about to go out, that you would pinch dead, these are the people Jesus does not discard. The bruised reed is the person nearly broken by life; the smoldering wick is the faith almost extinguished, the barely-there flicker of hope or belief. And Jesus, the servant, does not finish them off; he protects the crushed and fans the dying ember rather than snuffing it. This is who he is, not the strong man who breaks the weak but the gentle servant who tends them until justice wins. The bruised and the barely-burning are exactly the ones he came for.

When I feel like a bruised reed or a smoldering wick, nearly broken or barely burning, can I trust that Jesus will not snap or snuff me but tend me, and do I treat the fragile around me the same way?