Sermon Illustration

A farmer goes to market to purchase grain. He puts the bags containing it into his wagon, and drives slowly home. As the wagon jolts over the stony road, one of the bags becomes untied, and the grain is scattered along the way. The birds catch some of the grain and fly off with it, and drop it in distant places. Some is blown in different directions by the winds. Thus the farmer goes on for miles, without knowing what he is doing; but the next summer finds the scattered seed. It starts and grows, and when he sees his own grain he does not know it. He did not even know that he lost it. And so it is with good deeds. Men often perform them unconsciously, and they bear fruit, and when they see that fruit they do not know that it is the result of anything they have done. —Beecher

A remarkable incident occurred recently at a wedding in England. A young man of large wealth and high social position, who had been blinded by an accident when he was ten years old, and who won university honors in spite of his blindness, had courted and won a beautiful bride, although he had never looked upon her face. A little while before his marriage he submitted himself to a course of treatment by experts and the climax came on the day of his wedding. The day came, and the presents, and the guests. There were cabinet ministers and generals and bishops and learned men and a large number of fashionable men and women. William Montagu Dyke, dressed for the altar, his eyes still shrouded in linen, was driven to the church by his father, and the oculist met them in the vestry. The bride, Miss Cave, entered the building on the arm of her white-haired father, the admiral, who was all decked out in the blue and gold lace of the quarterdeck. So moved was she that she could hardly speak. Was

“I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” (Ps. 23:6 nasb). There’s no place like home, be it ever so humble. Natalia Solzhenitsyn, wife of the exiled writer and Nobel Prize winner Alexander Solzhenitsyn, must have been muttering these words as she returned to Moscow after 18 years in exile. She promised that her husband would soon follow. “This is what we have been living for all these years in exile: the return home,” Mrs. Solzhenistyn said at Moscow’s Shremetyevo Airport after arriving from the United States. There is something in the human heart that always wants to go home—the place from which it came. God has given us a “homing device” like that of a pigeon, and it is only natural to respond: “This is what we have been living for all these years in exile: the return home.” —Purnell Bailey

By the aid of that most perfect scientific instrument, the ophthalmoscope, with its condensing mirror and myriad of little lenses, the ophthalmologist can look into a person’s eye and not only determine approximately the necessary strength of glass required to give perfect vision, but also the existence of tumors pressing on the brain tissue, the condition of the general nervous system, the presence of disease in various organs, and the richness of the blood current as they are clearly traced on the sensitive plate of nature’s camera. What the ophthalmoscope is to the ophthalmologist, revelation from Scripture is to our higher nature—a test and criticism of supreme value. One of the ways by which we can prevent the darkening of our spiritual eyesight is to look daily at the Word of God so that the Word may become the mirror to which we are exposed. “The Word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, an

A young farmer in North Dakota brought home a fancy barometer for which he paid $24.65. In the following days he watched it avidly as it predicted the weather. On one of the walls of his home it hung in an honored place. But the day came when for three days it predicted “storm” while the sky was turquoise and clear. So he took it off the wall and back to town where he demanded his money back. Returning home, he and his wife became alarmed when they saw evidence of a storm ten miles out. When they turned in their yard, their home had blown away. The furniture was up in the apple trees, and the bathtub three blocks away in a pasture. But the grandmother had believed the barometer, and when a dark cloud appeared she took the two small children and went to the shelter in the old storm cellar, long unused, and they were saved.

A certain prisoner, most cunning and brutal, was singularly repulsive even in comparison with other prisoners. He had been known for his daring and for the utter absence of all feeling when committing acts of violence. The chaplain had spoken to him several times but had not succeeded even in getting an answer. The man was sullenly set against all instruction. At last he expressed a desire for a certain book, but as it was not in the library the chaplain pointed to the Bible which was placed in his cell, saying, “Did you ever read that Book?” He gave no answer but looked at the good man as if he would kill him. The question was kindly repeated, with the assurance that he would find it well worth reading. “Mister,” said the convict, “you would not ask me such a question if you knew who I am. What have I to do with a book of that sort?” The chaplain answered, “I know all about you and that’s why I think the Bible is the book for you.” “It would do me no good,” he cried. “I am past all fe

Not every coin that bears the exact stamp is a genuine coin. Very often, the counterfeit, the base and worthless coin, bears the right stamp also. It isn’t the impression that matters so much as the nature of the metal. Many an action that bears the impression of a good conscience is condemned before God as perilous, injurious, and destructive in its issues. The coin must be tested on the touchstone to discover if it rings true. Conscience must be tested on the touchstone of Christian principle and the Spirit of the Master. It is not enough to say, “It seems right to me.” We must ask how does this action, this line of conduct, ring on the touchstone of Christian principle? Not what we think but what Christ thinks, what the Master thinks, matters most.

It is essential that we should exercise conscience, but let us not forget that in this matter, as in all others, privilege is linked with responsibility. Of course, we may attribute unworthy motives to authoritarian churches that proclaim the right to dictate to the individual what is right and what is wrong. We may say, as many have said, that they adopt this standpoint for their own ends to acquire power and control. But that is not a satisfactory explanation, and it is an unworthy charge. Their action is generally based on the danger of individual judgment and the peril of the individual conscience, because this privilege that we all claim does have it perils. It is so perilous, indeed, that while we pay lip service to its sanctity and sacredness, we are compelled to curtail its freedom. There is no community that can or dare base its life upon the freedom of each individual’s conscience. It would result in chaos. Jesus Christ allows us a certain freedom. Freedom is the basis of joy

Cricketers talk a great deal about visual imperfection, for sooner or later the bowler finds the blind spot, the batsman misjudges the ball, and his sport comes to an end. The devil plays for the blind spot, and if there is such a defect in our spiritual vision, sooner or later it gets us into trouble. The blind spot in the natural eye is a necessary, unavoidable, physiological defect of which the brightest and most skillful athlete cannot rid himself. However, morally and religiously no part of our nature need be dark, and we may successfully defend ourselves in every assault. If for any subtle, selfish reason we harbor some bias of the mind, some prejudice that warps the judgment, some neglect of charity, some inertia that obstructs conviction, some deviation of aim, some deflection in action, we lay ourselves open to grievous losses and sorrows. “But if we walk in the light, as he [God] is in the light, we have fellowship one with another” (1 John 1:7). If we don’t have fellowship w

In a great cathedral in Europe, there is a window made by an apprentice out of the bits of stained glass that were thrown away as worthless refuse when the other windows were made; this is the most beautiful window of all. You can build a noble character for yourself, in spite of all the hurts and injuries done consciously or unconsciously by others, with the fragments of the broken hopes, joys and the lost opportunities that lie strewn about your feet. No matter how badly others have hurt and marred you, they cannot prevent you from building a beautiful character for yourself; conversely, others by their best work cannot cause you to build a beautiful character. The fine character of your father or mother is not yours; you’ve got to build your own.