Sermon Illustration

There is an incipient danger in thinking, since there are so many belonging to the Church, “Why not let George do it?” An eastern story tells of four brothers who decided to have a feast. As wine was rather expensive, they agreed that each one should bring an equal quantity and add it to the common stock. One of the brothers thought he might escape making his contribution by bringing water instead of wine. “It won’t be noticed in the common wine jar,” he reasoned. But when, at the feast, the wine was poured out, it turned out not to be wine at all but plain water. All four brothers had thought alike. Each one had said, “Let the other do it.”

The word “schism” is a transliteration from the Greek schisma, which literally means “a tear in a garment or a crack in a stone.” A torn garment is useless; it fails to accomplish its purpose of covering the body. A cracked stone endangers the whole structure that rests upon it. Paul writes that no member of the body should behave in such a way as to render the whole body useless. The way to avoid such schism is for the members of the body to help each other, since they are capable of recognizing one another’s strengths and weaknesses.

A Finnish infidel once bequeathed his farm to the devil. The will was studied by the courts, and it was decided that the way to carry out the provisions would be to leave the farm untouched by human hands. In a few years it was overgrown with brush, the buildings had tumbled down, and the whole farm presented a scene of desolation and ugliness. That’s the way property looks when Satan owns it. Also churches left desolate are the result of Satan’s work.

An elderly woman was being conducted through a great cathedral in Europe. The guide spoke of its beauty of design, calling attention to the statues and paintings. The woman was unimpressed. At the conclusion of the tour she asked the guide, “How many souls have been saved here this year? How many people have drawn near to God here?” “My dear lady,” said the embarrassed guide, “this is a cathedral, not a chapel.” That’s the trouble. Unfortunately we have too many cathedrals and too few chapels where the warmth of the Spirit of God is felt, conducive to a spiritual life that enhances our knowledge of God.

Someone gave a sundial to a group of people in the jungle. They regarded it as a fetish and wanted to keep it holy, so they built a house over it to keep it safe. This of course, kept the sun away from it. They had rendered it useless by trying to protect it. They honored the sundial, but they made it of no practical use. That’s how many people regard Christianity. It has become something they have enclosed within the beautiful walls and stained glass windows of cathedrals. But, far worse, they also wall off their Christianity from their own individual daily lives. They genuflect to a statue or kiss an icon of a saint, but they fail to follow the teachings of the people these symbolize.

Suppose you were the president of a club. A rich man comes and applies to you for membership. However, for the most part your club is made up of poor people and those who belong to the laboring classes. What would you do? Would you be flattered that a rich man wanted to join and accept him without question? Of course, it would provide a marvelous opportunity to enrich your treasury. Unfortunately, some church leaders are also opportunists. Their bad example leads some men to conclude that Christianity is a religion of opportunism. But don’t look at church leaders; in fact, don’t look at any person—look at Christ.

A Buddhist monk in Ceylon, who was acquainted with both Christianity and Buddhism, was once asked what he thought was the great difference between the two. He replied, “There is much that is good in each of them, and probably in all religions. But what seems to me to be the greatest difference is that you Christians know what is right and have power to do it, while we Buddhists know what is right but have not any such power.” This is true, because no other religion has as its founder God, who became man, and in becoming man incarnated the grace and the truth of God. When Christ, then, becomes our life, we will be full of grace and truth. It is not our grace and truth but His, for He dwells within.

The religion of the Lord Jesus Christ is a religion of light. One of the most splendid descriptions of our Heavenly Father is in the words of John: “God is light, and in him is no darkness at all” (1 John 1:5). James says, “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights” (James 1:17). Note James’ descriptive name for God, “The Father of light.” And the Lord Jesus declares that those who seek to do the will of God are the “children of light” (John 12:36). Our Savior never said a more splendid thing about Himself than when He uttered that sublime declaration, “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12; 9:5). Everywhere in the Scriptures, light is used as an emblem of the righteous character of those who are the true children of God. Yes, the religion of the Lord Jesus Christ is a religion of light.

A missionary visiting a poor hut in a refugee district was challenged by a suffering woman: “You tell us that you are interested in us and want to help us. But it’s very easy for you to simply come to see us in our poverty-stricken home. The question is, are you ready to bring your family from the clean and comfortable home in which they live, in order to live in our district with all its poverty and suffering and sin? Would you do that in order to lift us up?” That is exactly what Christ did. “And the Word became flesh, and dwelt among us” (John 1:16).

A traveler passing by and seeing a man fallen into a deep pit began to wonder aloud how he fell in. The poor man in his utter misery shouted, “If you are a friend, stop asking how I fell in but help me out!” The Lord Jesus Christ wants to impart His life to us. We may in our foolishness want a full explanation from Him as to why He permitted us to fall in the first place, but John 3:16 tells us that the most important and urgent thing is our salvation from sin and death.

“Deposit this in my name” means “deposit it in my account.” Or “draw this in my name” means “draw this from my account.” Isn’t that what would happen if I were to write out a check for you? You would take it and present it to the bank. You would cash it. But the money would come out of my account because my name was signed on the check. You would have to believe that I had money in the bank and the money could become yours; otherwise you would never have presented the check to be cashed. Thus, through faith in my name, you would have made my account yours in the amount that I had made available to you. That’s exactly the transaction that takes place between God and man. He has the resources which we need. He is Life and Light. Especially do we need these, in a spiritual sense, for our spiritual existence. They are made available to us in the measure that we need them, because we ourselves are bankrupt. Our name isn’t worth anything at the source of Life and Light, but the Lord Jesus C

Have you ever had difficulty in making yourself understood by a young child? Just try answering some of his questions: “What’s the sky made of? Why did Grandma have to die? Where did God come from?” It can be quite a problem. The difference between your mental ability and the child’s is not as great as that between the mental ability of God, the Creator, and you, His creature. What method did He use to communicate with man? Did He send a great cataclysm of nature to awe us into submission? No, He sent a little Baby to be born in Bethlehem. Of course, babies are born every day, but this was a very special Baby. He was God in the flesh.

A woman came to a minister one day carrying a container of wet sand. “Do you see what this is, sir?” she asked. “Yes,” was the reply, “it is wet sand.” “But do you know what it means?” “I do not know exactly what you mean by it, woman; what is it?” “Well, sir,” she said, “that’s me; and the multitude of the sins that constantly dirty my heart cannot be numbered.” Then she exclaimed, “Oh, wretched creature that I am! How can such a wretch as I ever be saved and keep clean from the influences of the world?” “Where did you get the sand?” asked the minister. “At the beach.” “Go back, then, to the beach. Take a spade with you; dig, dig, and raise a great mound; shovel it up as high as you can, then leave it there. Take your stand by the seashore, and watch the effect of the waves upon the heap of the sand.” “Sir,” she exclaimed, “I see what you mean—the blood, the blood, the blood of Christ, it would wash it all away and would keep washing any new dark stains away.”

On a dark and stormy night, a child was lost in the streets of a large city. A policeman found him crying in distress, and gathering enough from his story to locate the home, gave him directions after this manner. “Just go down this street half a mile, turn and cross the big iron bridge, then turn to your right and follow the river down a little way, and you’ll see where you are.” The poor child, only half comprehending, chilled and bewildered by the storm, turned about blindly, when another voice spoke in a kindly tone, “Just come with me.” The little hand was clasped in a stronger one, the corner of a warm coat was thrown over the shoulders of the shivering child, and the way home was made easy. The first man had told the way; the second man became the way. This is exactly what the Lord Jesus Christ has been for us. From eternity He has told us that He is the Way. He has to become our Light also, to lead us to the Way.

A native of interior China wanted to become a Christian but couldn’t understand how Christianity was superior to Confucianism and Buddhism. One morning he came to the missionary in a happy mood saying, “I dreamed last night, and now I understand. I dreamed I had fallen into a deep pit where I lay helpless and despairing. Confucius came and said, ‘Let me give you advice, my friend; if you get out of your trouble, never get in again.’ Buddha came and said, ‘If you can climb up to where I can reach you, I will help you.’ Then Christ came. He climbed down into the pit and carried me out.” It takes the Savior of man to do that. Only a Savior would stoop so low as to save a sinful soul like yours and mine.

Evangelist Gypsy Smith said that once, when a group of gypsies were forced to cross a swollen stream, a great number of men were drowned. One young man made a desperate attempt to save his mother who kept clinging to him. Several times he pushed her away, saying, “Let go, Mother, and I can save you.” But she would not heed him and was lost. At the funeral, the son stood by his mother’s grave and said over and over, “How hard I tried to save you, Mother, but you wouldn’t let me!” These are the tragic words that we shall hear Jesus Christ say to many in eternity one day, “How hard I tried to save you, but you wouldn’t let me. Your will was the great hindrance.”

A young foreign nobleman came across the English Channel to consult the great English physician, Dr. Forbes Winslow. “Doctor,” he said, “I do not know what is the matter with me. I cannot sleep—I am troubled night and day on account of my sins.” “Oh,” said the doctor, “you are seeking the help of the wrong physician,” and instead of his Materia Medica, he took down his Bible and read from Isaiah 53: “But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.” He knelt in prayer with the nobleman, who went back to his home rejoicing in salvation.

A young nobleman had been absent for such a long time from his extensive estate and numerous tenants that he was a stranger to them. Having returned home, he was out hunting and wandered from his party. Lost and thoroughly drenched by the rain, he sought shelter and relief in the cottages of some of his tenants, but they did not recognize him as the lord of the manor and shut their doors in his face. Knocking at the cottage of a poor widow, he heard the invitation, “Come in, thou blessed of the Lord.” She gave him a suit of dry, though coarse, clothing and spread before him the best food she could provide. He went away promising to return for his own clothes. The next day he appeared with his retinue and stopped before the poor widow’s door. She discovered in the young lord her unknown guest. He thanked her for her kindness shown to a stranger. She gave as a reason for her hospitality the fact that her own boy was away at sea and might be in need of shelter. When Christ came, He was su

A young man who graduated from West Point said that so much tension and anxiety built up with regard to final examinations that the best scholar in his class fainted at the first question asked him. He felt that his standing in his chosen profession was at stake, that his future position depended on the manner in which he acquitted himself. If the loss or gain of a little worldly distinction could so move a man, what will be the feeling of the soul when it stands alone at the bar of God? West Point honors are but for the little moment of time here, but the results of this final examination are for eternity. There are often mistakes made in worldly judgment, but there will be no mistakes made at the judgment seat of Christ.

No one switches on a flashlight in an area flooded by direct sunlight. We put on the light in order to dispel darkness. It is the darkness that makes the light necessary. God from eternity knew that men would choose darkness rather than light, and therefore He had to bring His light in Jesus Christ to shine in the midst of darkness.

It is related how the need of the West Indian slaves was presented to the Moravians. The Moravians were told that it was impossible to reach the slave population because they were so separated from the ruling classes. Undaunted, two Moravian missionaries offered themselves as candidates. They said, “We will go and be slaves on the plantations and work and toil if need be under the lash, to get right beside the poor slaves and instruct them.” They left their homes, went to the West Indies, went to work on the plantations as slaves and by the side of slaves, to get close to the hearts of slaves. The slaves heard them, and their hearts were touched, because the missionaries had humbled themselves to their condition. That was grand; it was glorious. Yet Christ’s example was more glorious, for He stepped down from heaven to earth to get close to our side. He Himself came beside us that we might feel the throbbings of His bosom, be encircled in the embrace of His loving arms, be drawn to Him

In a great cathedral there is a statue of Christ. As one enters the cathedral and stands before that statue, he is appalled at the ugliness and repulsiveness of the sculptor’s representation of Christ. He wonders whether that is what Christ really looked like. He is keenly disappointed. But then, as he comes closer to the statue, he can see an inscription on it which reads: “Kneel down and look up.” He kneels down and looks up, and lo everything about it is different. The repulsiveness is replaced by a wonderful attractiveness. The face of Christ is not ugly any more. What makes the difference? It is the position of the observer. If he stands up and looks at the statue, there is no beauty to it, but if he kneels down and looks up, he sees the face of the gentle, loving Savior.

A certain king instructed his gardener to plant six trees and place statues beneath them representing prosperity, beauty, victory, strength, duty, and joy. These trees were to show to the world that the king had tried to make his reign fruitful. They were also to typify the statues beneath them. The gardener planted six palm trees. When the king came out to inspect the work and looked at the statue of joy, he said, “I surely thought you would typify joy with some flowering tree like the tulip or magnolia. How can the stately palm symbolize joy?” “Those flowering trees,” said the gardener, “get their nourishment from open sources. They live in pleasant forests or orchards with hosts of other like trees. But I found this palm tree in a sandy waste. Its roots had found some hidden spring creeping along far beneath the burning surface. Then, thought I, highest joy has a foundation unseen of men and a source they cannot comprehend.” Do you realize that if the light of Jesus Christ is within

Some years ago several congressmen, who were devout Christians, were taking a walk one evening. Their conversation drifted to the subject of religion and the state of the world. They were not enthusiastic about the outlook and were just about to agree that the whole world was on the toboggan when they chanced to pass a little chapel. From within came the words of a familiar hymn: There is a fountain filled with blood Drawn from Immanuel’s veins; And sinners plunged beneath that flood, Lose all their guilty stains. As his face lighted up, one said to the others, “As long as people get together and sing that song, there is hope for the world, after all.”

A little girl came home from Sunday school in much perplexity. “Mama,” she said, “our teacher said today that we must come to Jesus if we want to be saved, but how can we come to Him when we cannot see Him?” “Did you not ask me to get you a drink of water last night?” said the mother. “Yes, Mama.” “Did you see me when you asked me?” “No, but I knew that you would hear me and get it for me.” “Well, that is just the way to come to Jesus. We cannot see Him, but we know that He is near and hears every word we say, and that He will give us what we need.” As we try to see Jesus by faith, He will become real to us. Only through Him can we get a vision of God.

A Japanese nobleman who came to America visited a Sunday school to study its function. The superintendent asked him to say a few words to those present. Now this visitor was a Confucianist, and he began by saying that the teachings of Confucius and Christ are just about the same. There are very few differences, he said, and therefore he regarded Christians as brothers. When he had finished, a distinguished merchant, a member of the Sunday school, rose to his feet. Of course, he recognized the moral teachings of Confucius, he said, but added the following: “There is, however, a basic and vital difference between Confucius and the Lord Jesus Christ. Confucius is dead and remains in his grave until Jesus Christ will raise him. But the tomb of Christ is empty. He lives and He will not see death again. He is in our midst this hour of our Sunday school.”

A beautiful illustration of our dependence on a solidly established base while we are moving at a distance, is the journey of Apollo 11 to the moon. A space station in Houston, Texas, was the seat of command. The three spacemen dared not disregard it as they circled around the moon and as two of them landed on its surface. Thus Paul tells the Corinthians that any work they undertake must be based on the firmness, the absoluteness, the dependability of the Lord Jesus Christ. He arose. He did what He said He was going to do. He told us that we shall rise. That is our control center. We can depend on it. We dare not disregard it. It is a matter of life and death. As I was viewing this feat of man at the time Neil Armstrong was landing on the moon, I was impressed by the remark made by one news commentator, “These men cannot remain on the moon. They must follow instructions. They do not have only themselves to think of but also the entire project.” Think of that, Christian, when you are t

Once a great king visited a town to lay the foundation stone of a new hospital. Thousands of school children greeted him and sang for him. Soon after the king passed a group of children, a teacher saw a little girl crying. She asked, “Why are you crying? Did you not see the king?” The little girl sobbed out, “Yes, teacher, but the king did not see me.” How different the Lord Jesus Christ is from earthly kings. Not only does He give life to each one, but He is also personally interested in and personally maintains each life.

When Alexander the Great visited Diogenes the cynic, he asked what he could do for Diogenes. The cynic answered that there was only one thing which Alexander could do for Diogenes, and that was to abstain from standing between him and the sun. There are many great and mighty people who like to stand between God and man, but they only obscure man’s vision of God. Only Jesus Christ, God incarnate, can bring God as the regenerating anmP Y d transforming Spirit into our experience.

An unbeliever once asked a preacher why John called Jesus Christ “the Word.” It seemed a strange appellation to him. The preacher answered, “It seems to me that as our words are the means that permit us to communicate with others, John used it to show that Jesus Christ is the only means whereby God chose to communicate with man.” Jesus Christ, then, is God’s speech or discourse to man.

Plato was right when he said that no one has a right to become a doctor who has always been healthy. Christ suffered, and therefore He can understand our suffering. He did not deserve to suffer for He was sinless. But God was glorified through His suffering, which was not really for Himself but for us, for our sin.

A great minister who was noted for his Christ-like spirit as well as for his consecrated ability, dreamed that he had died and stood at the gate of heaven knocking for admission. He gave his name, only to be told that his name did not appear upon the books. Finally, at his earnest entreaty, he was bidden to enter and was told he would have the privilege of appearing before the Judge of all the earth, and if he could stand His test he might abide in heaven forever. Standing before the throne, he gave his name, and the following questions were put to him: “Have you led a righteous life?” He said, “No.” “Have you always been kind and gentle?” Again he replied in the negative. “Have you always been forgiving to those who have been around you?” “No, I have miserably failed there.” “Have you always been honest and just?” He answered, “I fear not.” As question after question was put to him by the Judge, his case seemed more and more hopeless. The last question was asked him, and to that, too

An unbeliever once asked a Christian, “If I told you that this child was born without the intervention of a human father, would you believe it?” After a little thought the Christian replied, “Yes, if he were able to grow up and live like Christ.” In other words, Christ’s sinless life, His death and resurrection make the virgin birth believable.

Do you know for sure what’s going to happen to you after you die? The prospect of that should make you think. It made Peter Waldo anxious for the first time when, at a party, a friend of his suddenly keeled over and died. He went home and looked through his library of history books, scientific books, and philosophical books, trying to find something about death. But they told him nothing. Finally he turned to the Bible. There he found information that couldn’t be found elsewhere—basic truths that were given by Christ Himself, who had experienced death and conquered it. He told what it is and what would happen to the righteous and the unrighteous after death occurs. This is a subject that vitally concerns everyone. Christ is the only one who ever rose from the dead of His own volition and by His own power. That’s why His revelation about what happens after death appeared believable to Waldo. Peter Waldo became a noted Christian reformer, founder of the Waldensian Church of Europe.

A general may defeat all his enemies on the battlefield yet be unable to defeat his critics at home. He may be able to control the men under him and yet be unable to control himself. He may be victor in the eyes of men, yet defeated in the estimation of God. And he may congratulate himself that no one has been able to stand up against him, yet he will go down at last before man’s final enemy, death. Thus, all men’s victories are partial in this life. Even the victory over sin and evil that the regenerated believer has in Christ is at best incomplete. Only one Man has ever conquered sin and death completely and defeated all His enemies.

Charles H. Spurgeon made a penetrating observation when he said there were many rooms in the ark but only one door. Similarly, there is only one door in the ark of our salvation, and that is Christ.

It was Napoleon who said, “Everything in Christ astonishes me. His spirit overawes me, and His will confounds me. His ideas and His sentiments, the truth which He announces, His manner of convincing are not explained either by human observation or the nature of things. His birth and the history of His life; the profundity of His doctrine, which grapples the mightiest difficulties, and which is of those difficulties the most admirable solution; His Gospel; His apparition; His empire; His march across the ages and the realms—everything is for me a prodigy, a mystery insoluble, which plunges me into a reverie from which I cannot escape—a mystery which is there before my eyes, a mystery which I can neither deny nor explain. Here I see nothing human. The nearer I approach, the more carefully I examine. Everything is above me. Everything remains grand—of a grandeur which overpowers. His religion is a revelation from an Intelligence which certainly is not that of man.”

As George Matheson said, “Christ has illuminated the world, not by what He did, but by what He was; His life is the Light of Men. We speak of a man’s life-work; the work of Jesus was His life itself …. It is good to be told that the pure in heart shall see God, but the vision of heaven in a pure man’s face outweighs it all. They tell us that the Easter morning has revealed His glory; rather would I say that His glory has revealed the Easter morning. It is not resurrection that has made Christ; it is Christ that has made resurrection. To those who have seen His beauty, even Olivet can add no certainty; the light of immortality is as bright on His Cross as on His Crown. ‘I am the resurrection’ are His own words about Himself—not ‘I teach,’ not ‘I cause,’ not ‘I predict,’ but ‘I am.’ ”

A Brahmin once said to a Christian missionary in India, “There are many things which Christianity and Hinduism have in common. But one thing Christianity has that is not found in Hinduism.” “What is that?” asked the missionary. The Brahmin’s answer was, “We do not have a Savior.” He was right. Christianity is different in that Christ did not come as a social or economic reformer but as a Savior of individuals. God came to earth, not to change the adverse conditions under which men live but to change the sinful hearts responsible for such evil in the world.

How many people celebrate your birth? When a prince is born, there is usually a big national celebration. But when a child is born into a poor family, little or no celebration may take place. Yet, children of humble origin have often become national heroes whose birthdays continue to be celebrated long after their deaths. However, there is only one Person whose birthday is still celebrated nearly 2,000 years after the event—and He was born in a stable!

A six-year-old tiptoed softly up to the little low crib where one of this world’s very latest hopes was lying throned and swathed in the coverlets that love had sewn for its coming. Big brother’s face was gravely intent, his eyes bright and shining. He stooped far over and gazed down at that wrinkled, peevish bit of a face. “Now, baby brother,” he whispered into one tiny red ear half hid by the clustering black hair, “tell me about God before you forget.” The brother thought that the tiny baby had a message from God. There was one Baby who did. He was born in Bethlehem. But His existence did not begin at the time of His physical birth. He had a message for us from God the Father. It is found in the old familiar words of John 3:16. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”

In front of the great Cathedral of Amiens stands a statue of Jesus Christ, and on either side His twelve apostles. Below them are written their greatest virtues, in contrast to their greatest vices. In Peter’s case, his outstanding quality is his courage, but below it you see a figure of Peter fleeing from a leopard, representing his cowardice. Then beneath that you see the same figure sitting on a leopard and riding forth to conquest. The sculptor wished to teach us that by contact with the Lord Jesus Christ that very thing which is a man’s weakness can be transfigured into his strength; that very thing from which he fled can become the glorious chariot on which he rides forward, conquering and to conquer.

It is said that Tennyson was walking one day in a beautiful flower garden when a friend said to him, “Mr. Tennyson, you speak so often of Jesus Christ. Will you tell me what Christ really means to your life?” Tennyson stooped and pointing to a beautiful yellow flower said, “What the sun is to the flower, Jesus Christ is to my soul.”

A minister traveling on a train in Europe was the sole occupant of a compartment, save for a young man reading a newspaper. The youth was also a Christian, but so weak was his faith, and so many were his temptations, that he told the minister he did not think he would be able to stand life a week longer. The minister took from his pocket a Bible and a penknife and said, “See, I will make this penknife stand up on the cover of this Bible, in spite of the rocking of the train.” The young man, thinking that this was some conjuring trick, watched the proceeding with interest, saying, “I am afraid that it will not be very easy to do that , sir.” “But,” said the minister, “I am doing it.” “Oh, but you are holding it,” retorted his fellow passenger. “Why of course. Did you ever hear of a penknife standing up on its end without being held up?” “I see,” was the young man’s comment. “I see you mean to teach me that I cannot stand unless Christ holds me. Thank you for reminding me of that.”

Agostino d’Antonio, a sculptor of Florence, wrought diligently but unsuccessfully on a large piece of marble. “I can do nothing with it,” he finally said. Other sculptors tried their hand at it, but they too gave up the task. The stone lay on a rubbish heap for forty years. Out strolling one day, Michelangelo saw the stone and its latent possibilities and ordered it brought to his studio. He began to work upon it, and ultimately his vision and work were crowned with success. From that seemingly worthless stone he carved one of the world’s masterpieces of sculpture—David! The secret lay in Michelangelo, not in the stone. Look at life—your own with all its disappointments, and the lives of others with all that God has accomplished in them or all that He is able to accomplish. Expect Him to produce a masterpiece because you know the quality of the work of the Master Builder, Christ.

At a meeting where someone attacked missionary work, a Jewish gentleman asked if he might say a few words. “A few years ago,” he began, “my bank sent me to make some studies of a place in Puerto Rico. It was the worst, the dirtiest city imaginable. It was a real hell. Two years ago I went back to that same city—it was entirely new. The change was unbelievable. The houses, the streets were all so clean. The taverns had gone out of existence! What had happened, I wondered. Did they elect a new mayor? Was the place invaded by new educators? No. A Christian missionary had come to work among them and teach them about Christ. I went and found this missionary and gave him a generous gift for his work. I saw with my own eyes what Christ can do in just a short time.”

A Chinese Christian woman was preaching Christ to the scholar of a market town. He heard her courteously and after a little while said, “Madam, you speak well, but why do you dwell on Jesus Christ? Let Him alone. Instead of Jesus Christ, tell us about God.” Whereupon she replied, “What, sir, should we know about God if it were not for Jesus Christ?” How true, and this is precisely the meaning of the second clause of John 1:18.

“I know men,” said Napoleon in exile on the island of St. Helena to Count Montholon, “I know men, and I tell you that Jesus was not a man! The religion of Christ is a mystery, which subsists by its own force, and proceeds from a mind which is not a human mind. We find in it a marked individuality which originated a train of words and actions unknown before. Jesus is not a philosopher, for His proofs are miracles, and from the first His disciples adored Him. Alexander, Caesar, Charlemagne, and myself founded empires but on what foundation did we rest the creation of our genius? Upon force. Jesus Christ founded an empire upon love, and at this hour millions of men would die for Him. I die before my time, and my body will be given back to the earth, to become food for worms. Such is the fate of him who has been called the great Napoleon. What an abyss between my deep misery and the eternal kingdom of Christ, which is proclaimed, loved, and adored, and is extending over the whole earth!” A

In a company of literary gentlemen, Daniel Webster was asked if he could comprehend how Jesus Christ could be both God and man. “No, sir,” he replied, and added, “I should be ashamed to acknowledge Him as my Savior if I could comprehend Him. If I could comprehend Him, He could be no greater than myself. Such is my sense of sin, and consciousness of my inability to save myself, that I feel I need a superhuman Savior, one so great and glorious that I cannot comprehend Him.”

Count Zinzendorf, the founder of the Moravians, was converted in an art gallery in Dusseldorf while contemplating a painting of Christ on the cross which had the inscription, “I did this for thee. What hast thou done for me?” This picture had been painted by an artist three hundred years before. When he had finished his first sketch of the face of the Redeemer, this artist called in his landlady’s little daughter and asked her who she thought it was. The girl looked at it and said, “It is a good man.” The painter knew that he had failed. He destroyed the first sketch and, after praying for greater skill, finished a second. Again he called the little girl in and asked her to tell him whom she thought the face represented. This time the girl said that she thought it looked like a great sufferer. Again the painter knew that he had failed, and again he destroyed the sketch he had made. After meditation and prayer, he made a third sketch. When it was finished, he called the girl in a third

To recognize all that lies within another person, you must possess as much or more. A layman cannot possibly appreciate all the qualities and recognize all the abilities of a medical doctor. It takes a medical doctor of equal stature to recognize them. That is why, before a person is permitted to practice medicine, he is submitted to a professional state examination. In a similar way, only God the Father could recognize and appreciate all that was in God the Son. Jesus Christ could not find that recognition whileEditor=fals here on earth among men and will never be fully recognized and appreciated by mortal man.

A Jewish soldier had been attending services where he heard of the character and teaching of the Lord Jesus Christ. He went to his rabbi and said, “Rabbi, the Christians say that the ‘Christ’ has already come, while we claim He is yet to come.” “Yes,” assented the rabbi. “Well,” asked the young soldier, “when our Christ comes, what more than Jesus Christ can we expect?” What, indeed, since Jesus Christ was fully God?

When you say to a child, “Give me a glass,” he knows what you are talking about. The word “glass” is associated in his mind with an object. Philosophers like Kant tell us that before we have the phenomenon, i.e., that which can be seen or felt by the senses, we have the noumenon, i.e., that which is conceived of by intellectual intuition. In other words, the object’s image is first formed in the mind, and then it is produced as an object. We see a table. It is beautiful. We admire it, but more than that, we accept the fact that behind that object there was a concept in the mind of someone. Or consider the Empire State Building. Before it was erected, it took form in the mind of an architect who transferred his thoughts to paper as a blueprint. Only then could the building be put up for everybody to see. John tells us that Jesus Christ existed before the beginning of the world. The Creator was before the creature.

In the Rospigliosi Palace in Rome is Guido Reni’s famous fresco, “The Aurora,” a work unequalled in that period for nobility of line and poetry of color. It is painted on a lofty ceiling, and as you stand on the pavement and look up at it, your neck stiffens, your head grows dizzy, and the figures become hazy and indistinct. Therefore the owner of the palace has placed a broad mirror near the floor. In it the picture is reflected and you can sit down before it and study the wonderful work in comfort. Jesus Christ does just that for us when we try to get some notion of God. He is the mirror of Deity. He is the express image of God’s person

A professor of theology once asked his students to get a sheet of paper and divide it into three columns. In the first column they were to write every passage where Christ is spoken of as God-Man; in the second column all the passages where Christ is spoken of as God alone; and in the third, all the passages where Christ is spoken of as man alone. The papers were badly balanced. The first and second columns filled right up, but as to the third column, no one found a passage speaking of Christ as man alone. There just is no such passage.

Jesus Christ, by His constant designation as the Son, must not be considered as belonging within time and space. Take as an illustration the sun and its rays. Does the radiance of the sun proceed from the substance of the sun itself or from some other source? We all know that it proceeds from the substance itself. Yet, though the radiance proceeds from the sun itself, we cannot say that it is later in point of time than the existence of that body, since the sun has never appeared without its rays. It is for this reason, says Chrysostom, that Paul calls Christ “brightness” (Heb. 1:3), setting forth thereby His being and His eternity from God. The fact that Jesus Christ, the Word, is presented as a separate personality from God the Father does not mean that He is less eternal, less infinite, and therefore less God and less responsible for the creation of the world, than God the Father.

An architect is a master builder. He conceives of a building in its totality. However, he realizes that his first consideration must be the ground on which it is to stand; it must have a solid foundation. Of course, no one can live in a house that consists only of its foundation. A superstructure is needed. But without a proper foundation the superstructure will not stand.

Tourists stand in wondering admiration before some of the palaces of the old world that have endured for more than a thousand years without a crack or seam. The Pantheon at Rome stands just as it did well over two thousand years ago. This would be impossible had not its foundations been right. The Rialto Bridge that spans the Grand Canal in Venice was erected in A.D. 1588. It has stood as it now stands for over four centuries, but that bridge rests on twelve thousand piles driven deeply into the soil. What is true of buildings is also true of life. God cannot and will not build the Christian virtues into your life, or fill you with the Holy Spirit for His service, until the proper foundation of receiving Christ and Him crucified as your Savior and Lord has been laid.

Alexander Maclaren stated: “Paul felt that, if he was to give the Corinthians what they needed, he must refuse to give them what they wanted, and while he crossed their wishes he was consulting their necessities …. In the message of Christ and Him crucified, there lies the satisfaction of all that is legitimate in those desires that at first sight it seems to thwart. Paul determined to know nothing but Jesus, and to know everything in Jesus, and Jesus in everything. Do not begin your building at the second floor windows. Put in your foundations first and be sure that they are well laid. Let the sacrifice of Christ in its application to the individual and his sins be ever the basis of all that you say. Then, when that foundation is laid, exhibit to your heart’s content the application of Christianity and its social aspects. But be sure that the beginning of them all is the work of Christ for the individual sinful soul, and the acceptance of that work by personal faith.”

When we seek to win others to Christ, we must never think we possess any power in ourselves or lead others to believe we do through any air of superiority or lightness as we proclaim the gospel. We would do well to heed the advice of Dr. Payson, who said, “Paint Jesus Christ upon your canvas, and then hold Him up to the people; but hold Him up so that not even your little finger can be seen.”

Two unbelievers once sat in a railroad train discussing Christ’s wonderful life. Even non-Christians cannot escape thinking of Christ. One said, “I think an interesting romance could be written about Him.” The other replied, “You are just the man to write it. Set forth the correct view of His life and character. Tear down the prevailing sentiment as to His divinity and paint Him as He was—a man among men.” The suggestion was acted upon and the romance was written. The man who made the suggestion was Colonel Ingersoll; the author was General Lew Wallace, and the book was Ben Hur. In the process of constructing it, General Wallace found himself facing the unaccountable Man. The more he studied His life and character, the more profoundly he was convinced that He was more than a man among men; until at length, like the centurion under the cross, he was constrained to cry, “Verily, this was the Son of God.” That’s exactly the testimony of John the Baptist. He says, “The one coming after me,

A Brahmin said to a missionary: “We are finding you out. You are not as good as your Book. If you were as good as your Book, you could conquer India for Christ in five years.” Scripture reveals the truth and sheds light on our shortcomings.

A young theological student came to Spurgeon to tell him that the Bible contained some verses which he could not understand and about which he was very much worried. To this the great English preacher replied, “Young man, allow me to give you a word of advice. You must expect God to know some things which you do not understand.”

A skeptical young man confronted an old Quaker with the statement that he did not believe the Bible. The Quaker said, “Dost thou believe in France?” “Yes, though I have not seen it, I have seen others that have; besides there is plenty of corroborative evidence that such a country exists.” “Then you will not believe anything you or others have not seen?” “No, to be sure I won’t.” “Did you ever see your own brains?” “No.” “Ever see anybody that did?” “No.” “Do you then believe you have any?”

A young girl after sweeping the room, went to the window shade and hastily drew it down, saying, “It makes the room so dusty to have the sunshine coming in.” She foolishly imagined that it was the sunshine which made the dust whereas it only revealed it.

In the spring of A.D. 372, a young man in great distress of mind flung himself on the ground and burst into tears. The sins of his youth weighed heavily on his soul. Overhearing a chance conversation from a neighboring house, he was led to read the thirteenth chapter of Romans, and as a result was gloriously converted. In the language of Gaussen, “Jesus had conquered, and the grand career of Augustine, the holiest of the fathers, then commenced. A passage of God’s Word had kindled that glorious luminary, which was to enlighten the Church for ten centuries … even to this present day. After thirty-one years of revolt, combats and misery—faith, life and eternal peace came to this erring soul; a new day, an eternal day, came upon it.”

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, a

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.

The Gospel hidden in mystery should arouse our best and most active faculties. That is why we are commanded to search the Scripture, not simply to read it. It is the great repository of all the truths and mysteries of our faith. It is a rich mine that we ought to dig into and shall never exhaust. Just as gold and diamonds and most other precious stones and metals lie concealed in the depths of the earth, so the most valued things of revelation are concealed by the great Creator and Redeemer from the common view of the world. Only as this mystery stimulates us to dig into the Word shall we unearth the treasures that God has there for us.

A young woman who was soundly converted immediately began to read her Bible. One who disbelieved the Scriptures and took delight in ridiculing them asked her, “Why do you spend so much time reading a book like that?” “Because it’s the Word of God,” replied the girl. “Nonsense! Who told you that?” scornfully asked the unbeliever. After a moment’s silence the girl asked, “Who told you there’s a sun in the sky?” “Nobody,” replied the scoffer; “I don’t need anybody to tell me. The sun tells me.” “Yes,” said the girl in triumph, “and that’s the way God tells me about His Word. I feel His warmth and sense His presence as I read His wonderful word!”

An unbeliever of acute mind sought an acquaintance with the truth of the Bible and began to read the Book of Genesis. When he had reached the Ten Commandments, he said to a friend, “I will tell you what I used to think. I supposed that Moses was the leader of a horde of bandits; that, having a strong mind, he acquired great influence over superstition, that the exhibition was supernatural. I have been looking into the nature of that law. I have been trying to see whether I can add anything to it or take anything from it, so as to make it better. Sir, I cannot. It is perfect. “The first commandment directs us to make the Creator the object of our supreme love and reverence. That is right. If He be our Creator, Preserver, and Supreme Benefactor, we ought to treat Him and none other as such. The second forbids idolatry—that certainly is right. The third forbids profanity. The fourth fixes a time for religious worship. If there be a God, He surely ought to be worshiped. It is suitable tha

A convict, dying of a loathsome disease in the Arizona State Prison at Florence, was given a New Testament one day by a visiting prison worker. He started to read it and became so convicted of sin that he hurled it the length of the cell. When the Book landed on the floor, it fell open to the First Epistle of John. A verse boldly outlined in red caught the angry convict’s eye. He stooped down to look at it, and this is what he read: “The blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin.” That message brought him to his knees, crying out to God for forgiveness, for cleansing, for healing. He became a new man in Christ Jesus. He started a Bible class for the convicts, and in time secured an unconditional pardon from the Governor of Arizona. The governor’s pardon freed him from prison, but the pardon the Lord gave brought him purity of spirit, soul, and body, and through him brought many others into the Kingdom.

A man who was fond of having his own way at home made sure that he got it by constantly reminding his wife that the Bible said she was to obey her husband. He made this an excuse for passing off on her any tasks he found too distasteful for himself. She became a virtual slave to his comfort and that of his relatives. He conveniently overlooked the biblical admonition to husbands to give “honour unto the wife, as unto the weaker vessel.” His feeling was that God had made him lord and master in his own home and he was exploiting this prerogative to the fullest. We do not invoke Him and His Word to serve our own ends.

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

A ship’s mate once challenged a chaplain with the question, “How is it that you are always talking to my men about Jesus Christ? Did you ever see Him?” “No, I never did.” “Then how can you tell a man to trust in someone you have never seen? I can’t see any sense in that.” “Well,” replied the chaplain, “when you head for a place of refuge in a storm, what sense is there in telling your men to let go the anchor when they cannot see the ground? On what principle do you trust your ship and your life to ground you have never seen and never can see?” “Oh,” said the mate, “we go by our chart.” “Exactly,” replied the chaplain, holding up his Bible, “and I, too, go by a chart, and it is an infallible one, while yours is not. It tells me of the only sure ground of my salvation—the atoning work of Christ upon the cross. My faith, like your anchor, takes hold of this unseen but real ground, and so rides out the storm of life in peace and safety.”

Don’t be like the woman who one day felt unusually well. “How are you, lady?” someone asked. “Today I am quite well, but tomorrow I am sure I am going to suffer again,” she sighed. It is a terrible thing to expect evil that may never come your way. The expectation of evil kills many more than the evil itself.

Many of us Christians are like the little girl who started fighting with a friend. Her mother who heard about the quarrel talked with her little girl about it trying to show her she was wrong and her need of asking God’s forgiveness. Accordingly, when the little one kneeled down to pray, she humbly asked, “O God, please forgive me for getting angry and quarreling with Charlotte.” So far so good. But the wrong disposition was still there, for the child went on, “And make Charlotte come to me and ask my forgiveness. O Lord, give her no rest until she is sorry and comes and tells me so!”

Many times the Christian wishes for death in the face of difficulties and trials. He is like the poor man carrying a load of sticks who, when he became tired, sat down on a bank, and laying his sticks on the ground said, “I am sick and tired of this. I wish death would come to relieve me.” Instantly, Death slipped up and said, “Here am I; what do you want of me?” “I want you to help me put this bundle of sticks on my back again,” said the astonished pilgrim. We are all prone to think that our load of sticks is heavier—that our road more difficult and our enemies more daring than any other Christian’s.

Many times the Christian wishes for death in the face of difficulties and trials. He is like the poor man carrying a load of sticks who, when he became tired, sat down on a bank, and laying his sticks on the ground said, “I am sick and tired of this. I wish death would come to relieve me.” Instantly, Death slipped up and said, “Here am I; what do you want of me?” “I want you to help me put this bundle of sticks on my back again,” said the astonished pilgrim. We are all prone to think that our load of sticks is heavier—that our road more difficult and our enemies more daring than any other Christian’s.

When you lose hope of doing better, you lose everything that makes life worth living. A great artist was once asked, “What’s the best picture you’ve ever painted?” “The next one,” he replied confidently. But another artist was heard to lament, “Too bad I failed,” though he was at the very height of his glory. “Why do you say that?” asked a friend of his in astonishment. “Because I’ve lost any hope of improvement,” he said. He was right; the person who has stopped hoping has truly failed.

A girl who received a book from a young man, read it and said, “What a tiresome book!” The young man said, “Did you notice who wrote it?” She looked at the front page and saw that her lover was the author. She began to read it again, and at the end she said, “I never read a greater book.” What made the difference? Her relationship to the writer. Look at God. Is He good or evil? It all depends on whether you are single in heart or evil in heart. If you look at Jesus, you may see Him either as a deceiver or as a Savior. What makes the difference? Your attitude, your eye.

After referring to Himself as the light and life of men, our Lord goes on to say that, for the apprehension of light, a corresponding and appropriate organ is required. This organ is the eye. The eye that receives light for the whole body gives light to the whole body—the light in which all its activities are carried on—and may therefore be called the lamp or candle of the body. But the amount of light received and distributed depends on the power and accuracy of the eye that receives it. The organ may be diseased. It may prevent the access of the light or pervert it so that we do not see things as they are, or even in extreme cases do not see them at all. If this solitary candle is put out, how profound must be the darkness in which we walk! If it is obscured or distorted, how radical and misleading must be the errors into which it betrays us. It is of the utmost importance, therefore, that we should keep the one organ which receives and imparts light—the light of all our seeing, all

A lady, paying an early morning visit to a neighbor, was ushered into a rather untidy room for which her hostess profusely apologized, but her visitor smilingly replied, “I had eyes for nothing but these lovely roses,” pointing to a vase of beauties which occupied a prominent place on the table. Just as the eye sees what it looks for, so the soul that is itself beautiful finds all that is best and noblest and most worthy of praise in the men and women.

Benjamin Franklin once said, “The sentence which has most influenced my life is, ‘Some persons grumble because God placed thorns among roses. Why not thank God because He placed roses among thorns?’ I first read it when but a mere lad. Since that day it has occupied a front room in my life and has given it an optimistic trend.” To be meek is to have a disposition to see the roses among the thorns, rather than to complain about the thorns among the roses. Which do you see? Your answer will help you to judge whether you possess that meekness of which our Savior spoke.

Someone cursed Benjamin Franklin, charging that the Constitution of the United States was a farce. “Where is all the success that it guarantees us?” he sneered. Franklin, smiling, answered, “My friend, the Constitution guarantees only the right to the pursuit of happiness.” Psalm 34:14 tells us to not only seek peace but pursue it.

A man went inside a telephone booth and dialed the number of a friend. When the connection was made, the friend kept saying, “I can’t hear you; speak louder; I can’t hear you.” All he cold hear was the roar of traffic in the background. “Shut the door so I can hear,” he said to the caller. In order to hear God’s voice speaking to you, you’ve got to shut the door to the outside world so that its enticements won’t distract you. Doing this could change your whole life. Then when you go back into the crowd, you’ll not only be able to listen to what the world has to say, but you’ll have something to say to the world that you’ve personally heard from God.

Speaking of conscience, E. L. Allen said, “Honestly, what use do we make of our God-given reason? I know what use I make of it. I use it chiefly to provide reasons for what I want to do without admitting it is for pursuing some personal ambition. A man may have his conscience so well disciplined and trained that, instead of blazing a trail before him, it is like a pet dog which just trots obediently at his heels and never so much as barks! ‘If therefore the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!’ ”

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

“My boy,” said a father to his son, “treat everybody with politeness, even those who are rude to you; remember, you show courtesy to others, not because they are gentlemen, but because you are one.”

The student in the lower grades who is always idly dreaming of the time when he will be a senior, and thus neglects his present studies, will never be prepared to take his place with any distinction in his senior year. If we scholars in the larger school of life are so fascinated by revelations of the unseen world that we lose interest in the present one, we will never be prepared for its highest enjoyment.

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

Some time ago we noticed that a tree planted at the sunny end of a house had large and beautiful blossoms. It was a feast to the eyes; but what an amazing difference in some of the branches trained round the corner of the house where they got much less sun. The blossoms were starved and drooping, and there was little promise of fruit. They had the same root and stem in common, but while one part of the tree was in the full glorious light, the other branches were in the shade. Our character is affected in the same way by insufficient enlightenment. The dark places produce unfruitful branches: strange weaknesses, distortions, immaturities, indirection, failures in practical life and conduct. “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance” (Gal. 5:22, 23). If we are to bear all manner of precious fruit, each in its rightful season, we must trustfully and joyfully lay open our whole soul to the full expanse of God’s light shi

As in the natural body, so in the mystical body of Christ, the Church, a large measure of liberty is granted to each member. But this liberty may not pass the bounds by which another member would be injured or suffer loss. My liberty to stretch out my arms depends on how close I am to the other fellow. As Paul says in Galatians 5:13, “For brethren, ye have been called unto liberty; only use not liberty for an occasion to the flesh, but by love serve one another.”

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.

As we all grow older we feel the pains that creep into our once strong and fluid joints. Our hands hurt when they do their work. Our knees creak when we stoop down. Our backs and necks are sore when we sleep wrong. The ailments we suffer from are seemingly endless. We are aware of those faulty parts, are we not? When we have a pain in any portion of the body we tend to focus on that area. We aren’t so mindful of the hundreds of other parts that don’t hurt. We do that because we go to the aid of the weakest members. They need the attention, or at least they demand it. The spiritual implications of these thoughts are many. Paul, in describing the role of the church’s relationship with its Head, Christ, said, “From whom the whole body fitly joined together and compacted by that which every joint supplieth, according to the effectual working in the measure of every part, maketh increase of the body unto the edifying of itself in love” (Eph. 4:16). As the church, the body of Christ (Eph. 1

To whom would you be willing to swear undying allegiance? During the Crimean War between Russia and Britain’s allies, the “Charge of the Light Brigade” took place in 1854. British confusion was at the core of this disaster. Out of approximately 600 British cavalrymen, 247 were either killed or wounded by Russian troops. Later, though, Britain would be the victor in the Crimea. After the dust had settled, British poet, Alfred Lord Tennyson would describe the allegiance of those soldiers with these words: Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die: Into the valley of death Rode the six hundred. Unswerving consecration was and still is the foundation of military campaigns. Are you that devoted to your Lord and Savior? Jesus once said, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate…even his own life…he cannot be my disciple” (Luke 14:26). Later, the Apostle Paul would make this request: “I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies

Have you ever received a blessing that exceeded your expectations? In 1995, Atlanta Braves’ star pitcher Greg Maddux received an unprecedented fourth consecutive Cy Young award. The Cy Young is given to the outstanding pitcher in each league. He is only the second pitcher to win four of the awards, but the only one to win them consecutively. Bravo, Bravo! Following the presentation of his third Cy Young award, Maddux reflected, “It’s very exciting! You always set goals, but to win a Cy Young, or three of them, was never a goal. Anytime you exceed your expectations, it’s more gratifying.” Christians ought to be the most excited inhabitants of this planet. Not only are they headed for an eternal heaven with the Creator of the universe, but that Creator promises unbelievable benefits—right now. He inspired this promise: “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Cor. 2:9). Can you handle it? Give your devotion to your omni

It is related that once when Queen Victoria was in the Highlands, she stopped at the cottage of a poor woman, sitting for a few minutes in an old armchair. When the party was leaving, one of the number told the old woman who her visitor was. She was awed by the thought of the honor which had been hers, and taking up the old chair, she carried it into the spare room, saying, “No one shall ever sit in that chair again, because my queen sat in it.” How much more sacredly should we keep from other occupancy the place in our heart where Christ has been received as Guest! How is it, just now, in your heart? Is there any need for Christ to come with His whip of cords to drive out the traders, the sellers of cattle and doves, and the moneychangers? —J. R. Miller

For years people have admired the art masterpiece known as The Praying Hands. Behind this work of art is a fascinating story of love and sacrifice. In the late fifteenth century two struggling young art students, Albrecht Durer and Franz Knigstein, worked as laborers to earn money for their art studies. But the work was long and hard and it left them little time to study art. Finally they agreed to draw lots and let the loser support them both while the winner continued to study. Albrecht won, but he agreed to support Franz after achieving success so his friend could finish his studies. After becoming successful, Albrecht sought out Franz to keep his bargain. But he soon discovered the enormous sacrifice his friend had made. As Franz had worked at hard labor, his fingers had become twisted and stiff. His long, slender fingers and sensitive hands had been ruined for life. He could no longer manage the delicate brush strokes so necessary for executing fine paintings. But in spite of t

The park ranger was leading a group of hikers to a lookout tower in Yellowstone National Park. Along the way he pointed out some of the famous sites in the park. He was so intent on the stories he was telling, that he paid no attention when his two-way radio received a message. He turned it down. Later they stopped to look at some flowers and view some of the birds in nearby trees. Once again his radio distracted the ranger, so this time he turned it off. As the group neared the lookout tower they were met by a nearly breathless ranger who asked why the guide hadn’t responded to the messages on his radio. From their viewpoint, high in the tower, some other rangers had observed a large grizzly bear stalking the group. They had been trying desperately to warn the hikers. Many times we are so involved in personal activities and pursuits in this life, we don’t pay attention to the voice of God trying to get through to us. Sometimes we turn down the volume. Sometimes we don’t pay attentio

What is your motivation for attending church today? You say, “Well, it’s the Sabbath and we’re supposed to keep it holy.” Actually, it’s not the Sabbath. Today is the first day of the week. It is the day the early Christians chose instead of the Sabbath to worship Jesus Christ. “You’re right, the day has changed,” you interject, “but it’s still one of the Ten Commandments.” Did you know that because of Jesus Christ’s death and resurrection, “he forgave us all our sins, having canceled the written code, with its regulations”? The Living Bible adds, “So don’t let anyone criticize you…for not celebrating… Sabbaths. For those were only temporary rules that ended when Christ came. He brought a new order.” We worship God on Sunday because over the past twenty centuries it has become customary. But there is a higher reason—“Christ’s love compels us” to worship God in unity. The writer of Hebrews probably said it best when he wrote: “Since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, l

At a meeting of the Board of Overseers of Harvard College a proposition was made to absolve the students from daily attendance at Chapel. After a number of younger men had argued in its favor, Ralph Waldo Emerson spoke, “Religious worship is the most important single function of the life of any people. I derived more benefit from the Chapel service when I was in College than from any, perhaps from all, other exercises which I attended. When I am in Europe I go on every occasion to join in the religious service of the people of the town in which I am. For this reason I should be sorry to see the attendance at Chapel made to vary with the wishes at the moment of the young men.” After this no one cared to speak, and as long as he lived, compulsory attendance was maintained.

In a recent magazine article, a pastor stated clearly the fact that at his best man longs to worship some power above him. And it is this capacity for worship which is the measure of man’s self-culture and the test of his character. It is the touchstone by which to test the ideal nature of the individual and the trend of a whole civilization. A man may be a source of beneficence, he may be a reservoir of practical social effort; he may through the power which he possesses, and therefore the influence which he wields, make himself the object of universal acclaim. And yet there is something intensely distorted in his character if he feels not by some impulse of humility the desire to worship the Maker, whose creation he is. For otherwise the deepest fact in his experience is not a sense of responsibility to a higher authority, but rather a complacent self-reliance and self-sufficiency. In every act of worship, however crude and mistaken, there was some liberating influence, through which

Richard Knill, who had the advantage of a mother who prayed for him and with him as a boy, but forgot her counsels when he went from home as an apprentice, has given us the story of his conversion as follows: “When at Mr. Evans’, I came down night and morning to family prayer. This was a new and strange scene to me. I had never been present at family prayer in my life. The first night that I was in this good man’s house, about nine o’clock, he rang the bell, and his shopmen and servants all came into the parlor and sat down. I looked with surprise, and wondered what was coming next. When all were seated, he opened the Bible and read a portion, and thus let God speak to his household. They then arose and fell upon their knees. The sight overpowered me. I trembled—I almost fainted. At last I kneeled down too. I thought of my past life; I thought of my present position; I thought: ‘Can such a guilty creature be saved?’” This was the beginning of the spiritual life of a modern apostle.

A Connecticut farmer came to a well-known clergyman, saying that the people in his neighborhood had built a new meeting-house, and that they wanted this clergyman to come and dedicate it. The clergyman, accustomed to participate in dedicatory services where different clergymen took different parts of the service, inquired: “What part do you want me to take in the dedication?” The farmer, thinking that this question applied to the part of the building to be included in the dedication, replied: “Why, the whole thing! Take it all in, from underpinning to steeple.” That man wanted the building to be wholly sanctified as a temple of God, and that all at once. “Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?” (1 Cor. 3:16).

“And when he was come near, he beheld the city and wept over it” (Luke 19:41). Tonight I heard on the same newscast that 1) another black church had been torched—this time in North Carolina; and 2) that a black youth and his two white friends (who had invited him to “youth night” services at their church) were sent home by men in the church…no reason given except that “youth night services have been canceled,” though other young people continued their activities at the church facility after the trio were driven home in the church van. The first incident is another grave danger signal of a sick society. The second is a signal of a sick church. I believe both caused our Savior to weep afresh, as He wept over Jerusalem. And I have to wonder if there are not many churches in which our Lord Himself would not be welcome. He was, remember, a Jew. Many churches warmly welcome Jews…but how many churches would not? Would Arabs be genuinely welcome in your church? Would Hispanics? Would Africa

After many weeks, during which his family, aided by the police, searched for him, a wealthy man of Ithaca, New York, was located at a poorhouse in New London, Connecticut. He had wandered away from home suffering from mental trouble, and, in spite of the efforts that were made, had entirely eluded his friends. While they were searching for him, desiring to bring him back again to his home of comfort and luxury, he was living in a poorhouse. How many people there are like that. Christ has purchased for them an inheritance of untold wealth. But while the Savior is seeking after them to bring them into the rich enjoyment of this peace and comfort, they are living in the poorhouse of worldliness. It is necessary to get such people to “look up” and behold the spiritual treasures before it is possible to lift them up out of their self-imposed poverty.

A young lady was so very strongly moved under the pleading of the gospel that she often wept. Her pastor watched her with interest, to see her brought to Christ. After a time, not seeing her in church, he inquired concerning her of her mother. That lady was a widow, and she replied, weeping: “Ah, sir, I fear my daughter has met with companions who are leading her sadly astray.” The pastor did his best to restore the girl to right paths. His efforts were vain. She had given her heart to folly, and would no longer listen to the voice of duty. Not many weeks elapsed before this young woman, while busy over her sewing, suddenly dropped her needle, and exclaimed: “Oh, I am dying!” The inhabitants of the house placed her on the bed. Looking wildly about her, she said: “I see heaven and hell before me. I can’t get to heaven, for HELL IS IN MY WAY!” These were her last words.

A gentleman had a lovely Chinese plaque with curious raised figures upon it. One day it fell from the wall on which it was hung, and was cracked right across the middle. Soon after, the gentleman sent to China for six more of these valuable plates, and to ensure an exact match, sent his broken plate as a copy. To his intense astonishment, when six months later he received the six plates, and his injured one, he found the Chinese had so faithfully followed his copy, that each new one had a crack right across it. If we imitate even the best of men, we are apt to copy their imperfections, but if we follow Jesus and take Him as our example, we are sure of a perfect pattern.

Representative Norris, of Nebraska, was on a streetcar one Sunday morning when there entered a white-haired woman, a man of about thirty and a well-dressed young woman. The conversation soon made it apparent that the young man and his mother were from a farm, and that they were visiting Washington for the first time. He was starting home, leaving her to visit longer with the young woman, who was her daughter. When the brother arose a little later to say goodbye at the point where he was to leave the car, his mother threw her arms around his neck, and stood for some moments delivering a motherly message, while the conductor waited patiently with his hand on the bell-cord. Embarrassed, the son still held his arm about his mother’s waist. “Start the car!” called out a man in a silk hat. “It’s church-time now. Why can’t people do this sort of thing before they start for church?” he grumbled. It had gone far enough for Mr. Norris. “Young man,” he said to the one who was now the center of

I knew of two brothers who had a quarrel. The mother could not reconcile them. She could not sleep. Her prayers went up night after night. One of the sons saw how she felt and was sorry for her, so he bought a costly gift and took it to her. “I don’t want any gift,” she said; “I want you to be reconciled to your brother.” God doesn’t want your gifts until you are reconciled.

“Are you afraid to die?” asked a visitor of a man who lay on his deathbed, one who had lived a prodigal’s life, returning to Christ only in time to die. The man was now grieving, and his friend said to him, “Why, you are not afraid to die are you?” “No,” said the dying man, “I am not afraid to die; but I am ashamed to die. God has done so much for me, and I have done nothing at all for Him.”

There is a picture which shows a hand holding up a cross. The person is not seen—only the hand. It is good to be a hand that holds up the cross. It is good to be a voice that proclaims the Christ. We would all do well to keep ourselves out of sight and get people to look upon Christ. Too many of us want people to see us, and so project our own personality that we hide the vision of the Christ that we ought to exalt and honor. We want people to see us, to hear and admire what we say, to love us and honor us. But what can we do for them? What can the teacher do for her scholars in their sinfulness and need? What can the preacher do for those who are in penitence and sorrow? We would better hide ourselves away and get people to see Christ. It is enough for us to seek to be only a voice, speaking out clearly to tell men of Christ, while we ourselves remain unseen and unknown. It is enough for us to speak our word or sing our song and pass out of sight, while the word we speak and the song

On the subject of the parable of the talents in Matthew 25, J. R. Miller writes: “It would not do for all to be great—to be five-talented. If all the soldiers were fit for generals, who would make up the rank and file? If all church members were eloquent preachers, who would do the countless little, quiet services that need to be done? If all men and women were great poets, who would write the prose? There is need for far more common people than great brilliant ones. One Niagara is enough for a continent, but there is need for thousands of little springs and rivulets. A few great men are enough for a generation, but there is work for millions of common folks. So this diversity of gifts is part of the divine plan. The world needs more people of average ability than it needs of the extraordinary sort, and so we are always sure of being in good company. Lincoln said “God must love the common people, for He made so many of them. People who are very great must feel lonesome, for there are

A squall caught a party of tourists on a lake in Scotland and threatened to capsize their boat. When it seemed that the crisis had really come, the largest and strongest man in the party, in a state of intense fear, said, “Let us pray.” “No, no, my man!” shouted the bluff old boatman; “let the little man pray. You take the oar.”

A story is told in some annals of the Roundtable of a knight who set forth to find the Holy Grail. Forth from the castle rode the knight filled with his lofty purpose, having no eyes nor care for the common things about him and giving no heed to the gray-beard beggar that lay asking alms close to his door. Forth he went and began to do many wonderful works. His sword wrought prodigies of valor, in gloomy woods by robbers’ strongholds, in wild mountains. But he never saw the holy vision, the reward of God’s true knight. Then, spirit-broken, he gave up the quest as hopeless and rode homeward wearily. He came with head hung down and eyes that looked upon the ground. “Not for me, not for me,” he muttered, “is the holy vision,” Then, as he came through the gates he caught sight of the beggar. “Ah, now shalt thou be helped, old man,” cried the knight, “for I must content myself with such small acts of pity.” He sprang from his horse; he laid aside spear and crested shield and bent over the

A deacon in a certain Congregational church in Boston, many years ago said to himself, “I cannot speak in prayer meeting. I cannot do many other things in Christian service, but I can put two extra plates on my dinner table every Sunday and invite two young men who are away from home to break bread with me.” He went along doing that for more than thirty years. He became acquainted with a great company of young men who were attending that church, and many of them became Christians through his personal influence. When he died he was buried in Andover, thirty miles from Boston, and because he was a well-known merchant, a special train was chartered to convey the funeral party. It was made known that any of his friends among the young men who had become Christians through his influence would be welcomed in a special car set aside for them. And a hundred and fifty of them came and packed that car from end to end in honor of the memory of the man who had preached to them the gospel of the ex

A young man who had heard the gospel accepted Christ. A little while after this, a Christian teacher asked him: “What have you done for Christ since you believed?” He replied: “Oh, I’m a learner.” “Well,” said the questioner, “when you light a candle do you light it to make the candle more comfortable, or to have it give light?” He replied, “To give light.” “Do you expect it to give light after it is half burned, or when you first light it?” He replied, “As soon as I light it.” “Very well,” was the reply, “go thou and do likewise; begin at once.” Shortly after there were fifty more Christians in town as a result of the man’s work.

“You are always working,” I exclaimed, as I entered the office of a business friend. “How many hours do you work each day?” “Twenty-four,” he replied with a smile. Then more seriously, “I became interested in missions and determined to go to China, but my father died and his business was in such a state that no outsider could carry it on. My mother, sisters, and younger brother were dependent upon the profits of the house, so I was obliged to remain here. I then took the support of a native preacher in China as my substitute. In that way I work twenty-four hours a day, for my representative there is working while I sleep.” This man is like the angels in heaven, “serving day and night.”

In a certain factory, where each man was required to finish so much work in a given length of time, bells were rung at intervals to remind the men just how much time they had left. “The men work better when they realize that the day is slipping away from them,” the manager explained. The same thing is true of us concerning spiritual things. We need often to be reminded that “the time is short.” “The night cometh when no man can work” (John 9:4). We work better when we realize that the day is slipping away from us.

“… but the Father that dwelleth in me, He doeth the works” (John 14:10). A famous organist came to the intermission of his recital. It was in the days of organs requiring a hand pumper. So in joy the organ-pumper remarked, “We are giving them a fine recital today.” The organist looked up in disgust saying with a stinging retort, “Please, sir, I am giving this recital!” The organ-pumper was chagrined. The second half of the contest began when suddenly the organ was without a sound. The audience wondered what had happened. The organist knew. He went back stage and humbly apologized to the old pumper. “You are right, sir, it is we, and not I.” Then the exquisite concert proceeded. The “we” could do what the “I” cannot. The Father must work in us; and we must recognize our work as a joint effort with our blessed Lord. The apostle Paul expressed it in these words, “We are laborers together with God…” (1 Cor. 3:9).

“I looked on my right hand, and beheld, but there was no man that would know me: refuge failed me; no man cared for my soul” (Ps. 142:4). It is to be feared that some Christians are idle because they have no concern for the needs of folk around them. Over half a century ago there was a young surgeon beginning his practice in the city of London. He soon became interested in a rescue mission down in the slums, and went there after evening office hours. One night after the meeting was over, he discovered a ragged little boy lying asleep on one of the benches near the fire. The doctor gently woke him and told him it was time to go home. But the lad replied he had no home. Therefore the doctor took the lad to his own home and after they had eaten he asked: “Are there any other boys in London like yourself?” “Lots of them,” said the boy. “Will you show me some?” asked the doctor. “Let’s go,” said the child. Soon after midnight they started treading their way through the streets and alle

A Moravian missionary once went to the West Indies, to preach to the slaves. He found it impossible for him to carry out his design so long as he bore to them the relation of a mere missionary. They were driven into the field very early in the morning, and returned late at night with scarcely strength enough to roll themselves into their cabins, and in no condition to be profited by instruction. They were savage toward all of the race and rank of their masters. He determined to reach the slaves by becoming himself a slave. He was sold, that he might have the privilege of working by their sides, and preaching to them as he worked with them. Do you suppose the master or the pastor could have touched the hearts of those miserable slaves as did that man who placed himself in their condition, and went among them, and lived as they lived, suffered as they suffered, toiled as they toiled, that he might carry the gospel to them? This missionary was but following the example of the Lord Jesus C