Sermon Illustration

Henry Ward Beecher, while walking down a street, passed a newsboy shivering in the cold. Being moved with compassion toward him, the great preacher bought up all his newspapers, and when he handed over the money to him, he said, “Surely you are cold?” “I was,” replied the lad with a gulp, “till you passed, sir.”

During one of Mr. McKinley’s congressional campaigns he was followed from place to place by a reporter for a paper of the opposite political party. The reporter was one of those shrewd, persistent fellows who are always at work, quick to see an opportunity, and skilled in making the most of it. While Mr. McKinley was annoyed by the misrepresentation to which he was almost daily subjected, he could not help admiring the skill and tenacity with which he was assailed. His admiration, too, was not unmixed with compassion—the reporter was ill, poorly clad, and had an annoying cough. One night Mr. McKinley took a closed carriage to a nearby town at which it had been announced he would speak. The weather was wretchedly raw and cold. He had not gone far when he heard that cough and knew that the reporter was riding with the driver in the exposed seat. McKinley called to the driver to stop so he could get out. “Get down off that seat, young man,” he said. The reporter obeyed, thinking the time ...

Each of us has certain legal rights in life. It is our privilege to insist that we enjoy every one of them. But in so doing we may commit moral wrong which would be injurious, not only to others, but also to ourselves and thus rob us of that most essential peace of heart. One of the apartments owned by a Christian landlord is rented by a widow with four children. Month after month, as a result of the hard work of that poor widow, the rent is paid. But suddenly she gets sick and is unable to pay the rent. The landlord has every legal right to call upon the authorities to evict this woman and her children from the apartment. His act would be legally right but morally wrong, i.e., right according to the letter, but wrong according to the spirit. If he shows kindness to this woman and her children and allows them to stay on in the apartment in spite of the fact they are not able to pay rent, he is showing the Christian quality of compassion. It is wiser to be willing to allow our legal rig...

During a spelling contest in which the prize was a fine Bible, the contestants were finally reduced to two—Betty, the daughter of a poor, hard-working widow, and Susan, the daughter of a well-to-do farmer. The sympathy of the school was with the poor girl. Finally Susan misspelled a word, and Betty won the coveted prize. Going home, Susan’s mother said to her daughter, “Couldn’t you have spelled that word?” “Yes, Mother.” “Then why didn’t you do it?” “Well, you know Betty is quite poor, and she doesn’t get many presents. She wanted the Bible very much, and she tried so hard for it that I thought I’d let her have it.” “What made you do that, Susie?” “My Sunday school lesson, Mother, which said, ‘in honor preferring one another.’ So I thought I’d try it, and I’m glad I did.” A few days later, Susan received as a birthday present a beautiful Bible, and on the flyleaf was written the text, “In honor preferring one another” (Rom. 12:10).

A young man was on the border of nervous collapse as he lay on the operating table. Among the nurses, he noticed one watching him intently. He thought he knew her and called her to him. “Yes,” she said, “We have met before.” Then he whispered, “Would you mind holding my hand?” She gripped it and he lay calmly waiting for the operation. What a strong thing sentiment is! It can conquer a man’s fears even in the face of life’s most serious crises.

Martin of Tours was a man in whom faith and works combined to make him a true Christian. One day he met a beggar who asked for alms. Martin didn’t have any money, but he saw that the beggar was freezing, so he gave him what he had. He took off his soldier’s overcoat, old and faded as it was, cut it in half, and wrapped half around the beggar. During the night Martin had a dream. He saw heaven opened, and Christ wearing half an overcoat. One of the angels asked, “Lord, why are you wearing that shabby old coat?” Christ answered, “Because my servant gave it to me.” It was only a dream, but it illustrates the truth that Christ taught, that whatever we do for others in His name, He accepts as a gift to Him.

The word “pontiff,” used to designate the highest religious order of the Roman Catholic Church, namely the Pope, has an interesting history. This was the name which, in the old pagan religion of ancient Rome, was given to the chief priests. The pontiffs were those who were invested with pontifical power. The name as it was first applied meant “the makers of bridges.” Why it was used to designate a religious order we hardly know. Perhaps those old Roman pontiffs were specially employed in consecrating those mighty instruments of earthly peace and civilization, the great roads and bridges by which the old Romans tamed and subdued the world. But in a moral and spiritual sense we ought all to be makers of bridges. Pontiff or no pontiff, minister or no minister, every Christian who walks in his Master’s steps ought to make it his special business to throw bridges across those moral rents and fissures which divide us one from the other. Across these various gulfs and chasms let every one len...

Queen Victoria was a close friend of Principal and Mrs. Tullock, of St. Andrews. Prince Albert died and Victoria was left alone. Just at the same time, Principal Tullock died and Mrs. Tullock was left alone. Quite unexpectedly, Queen Victoria came to call on Mrs. Tullock when she was resting on a couch in her room. The Queen stepped forward. “My dear,” she said, “don’t rise. I am not coming to you today as a queen to a subject, but as one woman to another who has lost her husband.” She put herself in her friend’s place. That is what God did for us. That is what we should do for others.

A well-to-do businessman gave a fine car to his brother. One day when the brother went to the place he’d parked the car, he saw a ragged boy looking the car over with great interest. Instead of saying, “Get away from that car, kid,” he smiled at the youngster. The boy was the first to speak. “Is that car yours, Mister?” “Yes, it is,” was the reply. “What did it cost?” was the next question. “Nothing,” said the man. The boy looked at him curiously and said, “You don’t look like the kind of guy who would steal a car.” The owner laughed and said, “No, it was a present from my brother.” The boy seemed incredulous. “Do you mean to say he gave it to you as a present, and it didn’t cost you anything?” “That’s right.” Then the boy said the most surprising thing of all: “I sure do wish I could be such a brother as yours.” One might have expected him to say, “How I wish I could have such a brother as yours.” The man asked him what he meant, and he explained: “I’ll tell you. My youngest brother h...

“Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ” (Gal. 6:2). Concerning this passage, an eloquent preacher of the past wrote: “Many persons are caught with the most superficial contradiction. In the second verse it says, ‘Bear ye one another’s burdens’; and in the fifth it says, ‘Every man shall bear his own burden.’ As if both of them could not be true! As if a man carrying a burden for which he is especially responsible might not have it lightened somewhat by one who walked by his side and helped him! As if a little child carrying a heavily laden basket—which it was his task and business to carry, and which he had to take care of—might not be helped by another child walking by his side and taking hold of the handle. Might it not be said to one of them, ‘This is your burden, and you must see to it’; and to the other, ‘Help him with his burden.’ To bear one another’s burdens does not mean to take them from one another’s shoulders, but to help each other to carry them.”

I’ve been on both ends of this experience—the receiving and the giving. I remember when I first came to the United States from a warm climate. It was cold and I had no overcoat. How grateful I was to that servant of Christ, Melvin Wampler, who took off his coat and placed it on my shoulders. He went without so that I could be warm. In a similar manner I have often endeavored to do this for others. Believe me, however, there is more joy in giving and going without, than receiving and possessing.

The St. Bernard dogs in the Alps who seek out travelers lost in a storm take their mission very seriously. One of these dogs returned late one afternoon, wearied from fighting his way through the drifts. He went to his kennel, lay down in a corner, and acted thoroughly despondent, despite the efforts of his master to encourage him. Was he sick? Well, no—not in body, but in heart. He had failed to find anyone to help and had come back ashamed. It is such sorrow of heart, resulting in outbursts of tears on behalf of others, that should characterize the Christian.

A young man named John saw some ragged boys and invited them to Sunday school. One boy said he would go, but he had no coat. John gave him his coat and went in with him. Years afterward, a teacher of a Bible class told the story. A man in his class said, “I was that boy, and Dr. John G. Patton, one of the most famous missionaries of the ages, gave me his coat.”om

An old legend tells of two men who entered the celestial portals. The white robes of the first one were stainless; and when asked by the warder where he had come from and how his garments were so clean, he told how he had just passed a poor, struggling traveler on earth, whose cart had become entangled in a swamp. The traveler had begged him to help him extricate it, and he explained with what difficulty and pain he had escaped the urgent call, and kept his garments spotless to meet his Lord.

The shepherd whose ninety and nine sheep were safe did not wait for the one astray to return; he went forth and sought and found it, and when he did find it he did not maul or kick or pound it; he took it to his bosom, and comforted and rescued and healed it. —D. L. Moody

Mr. Wesley, one winter day, met a poor girl in one of the schools under his care. She seemed almost frozen. He asked her if she had no clothing but the thin garments she was wearing. She said she had not. His hand was in his pocket in an instant, but there was no money there. He went to his room, but the pictures on it seemed to upbraid him.

At Schults Lewis Children’s Home in northern Indiana, where the corn is so tall and plentiful, we always had a devotional before school began. We adults had many friends in our mission fields, and always included them in our prayers by asking, “Lord, please bless all the workers we know, especially those in the foreign fields.” Eight-year-old Robert kept asking us to let him say the prayer one morning. The time came and Robert did a masterful job until he came to that part, and he said, “Lord, please bless all our brothers and sisters that are working so hard out in all those corn fields.” —Lester Allen Bulletin Digest

A large steamer was voyaging homeward. In wild weather and growing darkness a black man fell overboard. Instantly the vessel was stopped, the engines reversed, the boats lowered, and the energy of every officer and man of the crew devoted to the man’s rescue. A native Indian prince was on board, and, seeing all this, broke out in surprise to the captain: “What! You delay the passage of His Majesty’s mails, lose hours of your run, and your boats and men, for that Negro fireman?” “Certainly,” replied the captain, “and I would risk the loss of my propeller and smokestack to pick up the poorest laborer in my company. But Jesus laid down His own life to save you and me.”

At a railway station in New Jersey a little girl stepped up to a shackled criminal, and looking tenderly into his face, said: “Oh, man, I am so sorry for you.” It made him very angry, and he tried to strike her. Her mother forbade her to go near him again. But as they all waited for the train the mother’s eyes were turned away, and once more the little tot stole up to the wretched man and tenderly whispered to him: “Poor man, Jesus Christ is so sorry for you.”

The Alpine strawberry is no larger than a pea, and yet is the sweetest of all the fruits of the field. And many of the most precious deeds of a true Christian are the small acts of his life, as the giving of a cup of cold water to a weary disciple, or the speaking of a word in due season. There is an old adage that says “the smaller the gift or the service, in certain circumstances, the greater the evidence of love.” To fetch the donkey for Jesus was a truer test of love than to drive furiously like Jehu (see  2 Kings. 9 ). To wash the feet of Jesus, like Mary, is an evidence of greater love than to spread a feast for Him like Simon the Pharisee. Mary with her alabaster box of ointment, the widow with her two mites, Peter forsaking his fishing tackle—these are truer acts of benevolence than the gifts of a Vanderbilt, DuPont, Getty, Hearst, Ted Turner, or Bill Gates. A little boy gave six cents for charity and wrote on the envelope: “Fasted a meal to give a meal.”