175 Sermon Illustrations on Encouragement

Some time ago the United Technologies Corporation published in the Wall Street Journal a full-page message entitled, "It's What You Do, Not When You Do It." The message contained a listing of many eaglelike people who soared at various ages in their lives. Ted Williams, at age 42, slammed a home run in his last official time at bat. Mickey Mantle, age 20, hit 23 home runs his first full year in the major leagues. Golda Meir was 71 when she became Prime Minister of Israel. William Pitt II was 24 when he became Prime Minister of Great Britain. George Bernard Shaw was 94 when one of his plays was first produced. Mozart was just seven when his first composition was published. Now, how about this? Benjamin Franklin was a newspaper columnist at 16 and a framer of the United States Constitution when he was 81. You are never too young or too old if you have talent. Let us recognize that age has little to do with ability-and, age has NOTHING to do with dreams and determination and vision.

In the central place of every heart there is a recording chamber. So long as it receives a message of beauty, hope, cheer, and courage-so long are you young. When the wires are all down and your heart is covered with the snow of pessimism and the ice of cynicism, then, and only then, are you grown old.

An elderly lady was once asked by a young man who had grown weary in the fight, whether he ought to give up the struggle. "I am beaten every time," he said dolefully. "I feel I must give up." "Did you ever notice," she replied, smiling into the troubled face before her, "that when the Lord told the discouraged fishermen to cast their nets again, it was right in the same old spot where they had been fishing all night and had caught nothing?"

A house painter was at work atop a tall ladder that leaned against the second-story gable of a house. A small boy playing about the yard discovered the ladder, and as is natural for small boys, he began to climb it. His mother, checking on her child, was shocked to find that he was more than half way to the top of the ladder. As the woman stifled a scream of panic, the man at the top looked down, saw the child, and instantly perceived the danger. Signaling the mother to be silent, he calmly said to the child, "Look up, sonny, look up here to me, and keep climbing." Rung by rung, he coaxed the child ever higher: "Come on now, keep looking up, keep coming." At last, the child safe in his arms, the painter carried him safely to the ground. Well, each of us is somewhere on a ladder. If we look down, we may be terrified. God is saying, "Look up to me; keep looking up, and you will never be dismayed or undone by whatever is down there." So let's look up, up to where our safety lies; let's look up, and take heart, and keep climbing.

One winter in Chicago, a young man of dissipated habits was happily converted to God. His life was so radically changed that not a soul who knew him doubted the depth and genuineness of God's work of grace in his heart. He lived like a Christian for many months. One stormy evening in November, after business hours, he was on his way home when he was delayed by an open drawbridge. A large, brilliantly lighted bar stood right at hand. He had often frequented such places before his conversion, but never since that time. This evening, however, as he waited for the bridge to turn and let him through, he stepped into the bar for no other reason than to get out of the pelting sleet. Suddenly, all the familiar temptations closed around him, and almost before he was aware of his danger, he had ordered a drink. One drink led to another, and before he left the place he was partially intoxicated. Before he reached home he despaired of his salvation. "My family, my friends, the church, will all know about it," he groaned within himself. "No one will have any confidence in me. I am disgraced, lost." But two young men from his church who had seen him leave the bar came up to him and said, "Charlie, don't go home tonight. Come with us and we'll take care of you. We promise that no one in the world shall ever hear from us a word of what happened tonight." They encouraged him, saying that God would forgive and restore him. Next morning he was himself again. They knelt together in earnest prayer, and when he rose from his knees it was with the glad assurance of pardon and God's favor restored. This young man never again yielded to such a temptation and went on to become a successful minister of the gospel. The Valuable Picture When a certain wealthy man died, his will could not be found. Since his wife and only son had preceded him in death, his possessions were sold at auction. Everything was disposed of except a picture of the son. Nobody seemed to want it until an elderly woman approached and pleaded with the auctioneer to let her have it for the few dollars in her possession. When he gave her the picture, she hugged it to her heart, for she had been the son's nurse in his infancy and boyhood days. Attached to the back of the painting she discovered an envelope addressed to an attorney. Taking it to him, she was astonished to hear him exclaim, "Woman, you have a fortune! This is the man's will, and in it he has left a large sum of money to anyone who loved his son enough to buy the picture."

A man stopped to watch a ball game between two young teams. As he walked toward the bleachers, he asked one of the players, "What is the score?" The young fellow replied, "We are behind 18 to nothing." "Well," said the man, "I must say you don't look discouraged." "Discouraged?" the player said with a puzzled look. "Why should we be discouraged? We haven't had our turn to bat yet." The army of Israel faced a giant, but a young man named David thought, "I have not had my turn," and he won! The twelve disciples saw 5,000 hungry people and said, "Send the crowds away, so they can buy some food." But Jesus thought, "I have not had my turn yet!" The angry mob had Pilate seal the tomb where Jesus was buried, but God knew, "I have not had my turn yet!" The church is ready to "go to bat" and, like others, who have placed their trust in God, we will win! Remember these words of Jesus: "I will build My church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it" (Matthew 16:18). When Our Blemishes Become Assets The story is told of a friend by the name of Webb Young. Webb Young grew beautiful apples, and he advertised them to a very select clientele as "perfect." One year just before time to harvest his apples, a heavy hail storm came. It did not harm the apples, but it left unsightly brown spots on them. He felt hopelessly defeated. He could not afford to send his apples out with those brown spots on them. A lesser man would have given up, but he kept thinking until he came up with a saving idea. He harvested the apples and packed them in boxes, as he normally did. Then in each box he placed a card which stated that these apples were grown in high altitude and that the chill of the mountain made the apples firm. He also explained that in these high altitudes they often have hail storms. Then he said that if one will look closely at the apples, hail marks upon them can be observed. It is a matter of record that the next year the overwhelming majority of his orders were for "hail-marked" apples. For Webb Young and his apples-the blemishes became assets.

I remember a few years ago I got discouraged, and could not see much fruit of my work; and one morning, as I was in my study, cast down, one of my Sabbath-school teachers came in and wanted to know what I was discouraged about, and I told him because I could see no result from my work; and speaking about Noah, he said: "By the way, did you ever study up the character of Noah?" I felt that I knew all about that, and told him that I was familiar with it, and he said, "Now, if you never studied that carefully, you ought to do it, for I cannot tell you what a blessing it has been to me." When he went out I took down my Bible and commenced to read about Noah, and the thought came stealing over me, "Here is a man that toiled and worked a hundred years and didn't get discouraged; if he did, the Holy Ghost didn't put it on record," and the clouds lifted, and I got up and said, if the Lord wants me to work without any fruit I will work on. I went down to the noon prayer-meeting, and when I saw the people coming to pray I said to myself, "Noah worked a hundred years and he never saw a prayer-meeting outside of his own family." Pretty soon a man got up right across the aisle where I was sitting, and said he had come from a little town where there had been a hundred uniting with the Church of God the year before. And I thought to myself, "What if Noah had heard that! He preached so many, many years, and didn't get a convert, yet he was not discouraged." Then a man got up right behind me, and he trembled as he said, "I am lost. I want you to pray for my soul." And I said, "What if Noah had heard that! He worked a hundred and twenty years, and never had a man come to him and say that; and yet he didn't get discouraged." And I made up my mind then, that, God helping me, I would never get discouraged. I would do the best I could, and leave the result with God, and it has been a wonderful help to me.

I am told that when General Sherman went through Atlanta towards the sea--through the Southern States--he left in the fort in the Kennesaw Mountains a little handful of men to guard some rations that he brought there. And General Hood got into the outer rear and attacked the fort, drove the men in from the outer works into the inner works, and for a long time the battle raged fearfully. Half of the men were either killed or wounded; the general who was in command was wounded seven different times; and when they were about ready to run up the white flag and surrender the fort, Sherman got within fifteen miles, and through the signal corps on the mountain he sent the message: "Hold the fort; I am coming. W. T. Sherman." That message fired up their hearts, and they held the fort till reinforcements came, and the fort did not go into the hands of their enemies. Our friend, Mr. Bliss, has written a hymn entitled "Hold the fort for I am coming," and I'm going to ask Mr. Sankey to sing that hymn. I hope there will be a thousand young converts coming into our ranks to help hold the fort. Our Saviour is in command, and He is coming. Let us take up the chorus.

CHO.-- "Hold the fort, for I am coming,"

A few years ago at the mouth of Cleveland harbor there were two lights, one at each side of the bay, called the upper and lower lights; and to enter the harbor safely by night, vessels must sight both of the lights. These western lakes are more dangerous sometimes than the great ocean. One wild, stormy night, a steamer was trying to make her way into the harbor. The Captain and pilot were anxiously watching for the lights. By and by the pilot was heard to say, "Do you see the lower lights?" "No," was the reply; "I fear we have passed them." "Ah, there are the lights," said the pilot; "and they must be from the bluff on which they stand, the upper lights. We have passed the lower lights; and have lost our chance of getting into the harbor;" What was to be done? They looked back, and saw the dim outline of the lower lighthouse against the sky. The lights had gone out. "Can't you turn your head around?" "No; the night is too wild for that. She won't answer to her helm." The storm was so fearful that they could do nothing. They tried again to make for the harbor, but they went crash against the rocks, and sank to the bottom. Very few escaped; the great majority found a watery grave. Why? Simply because the lower lights had gone out. Now with us the upper lights are all right. Christ himself is the upper light, and we are the lower lights, and the cry to us is, Keep the lower lights burning; that is what we have to do. He will lead us safe to the sunlit shore of Canaan, where there is no more night.

Rowland Hill tells a good story of a rich man and a poor man in his congregation. The rich man desired to do an act of benevolence, and so he sent a sum of money to a friend to be given to this poor man as he thought best. The friend, just sent him five pounds, and said in the note: "This is thine; use it wisely; there is more to follow." After a while he sent another five pounds and said, "more to follow." Again and again, he sent the money to the poor man, always with the cheering words, "more to follow." So it is with the wonderful grace of God. There is always "more to follow."

A vessel was wrecked off the shore. Eager eyes were watching and strong arms manned the life-boat. For hours they tried to reach that vessel through the great breakers that raged and foamed on the sand-bank but it seemed impossible. The boat appeared to be leaving the crew to perish. But after a while the Captain and sixteen men were taken off, and the vessel went down. "When the life-boat came to you," said a friend, "did you expect it had brought some tools to repair your old ship?" "Oh, no," was the response; "she was a total wreck. Two of her masts were gone, and if we had stayed mending her, only a few minutes, we must have gone down, sir." "When once off the old wreck and safe in the life-boat, what remained for you to do?" "Nothing, sir, but just to pull for the shore."

How wonderful is what we call association! I hang some thought upon an object, and say, "Whenever I come hither, ring for me as a bell of joy;" and upon another I fasten an experience, saying to it, "Toll to me of sadness;" and to another, "Give forth some bold inspiring strain;" and to another, "Speak to me always of hope;" and thereafter each thing, true to its nature, whether it be tree or place or rock or house, or that which is therein, never forgets its lesson. Yea, and when we forget, they make us remember, singing to us the notes which we had taught them. Beecher.

A merchant, some few years ago, failed in business. He went home in great agitation. "What is the matter?" asked his wife. "I am ruined; I am beggared; I have lost my all!" he exclaimed, pressing his hand upon his forehead. "All!" said the wife. "No: I am left." "All! papa," said his eldest boy: "here am I." "And I too," said his little girl, running up, and putting her arms round his neck. "I'm not lost, papa," repeated Eddie. "And you have your health left," said his wife. "And your hands to work with," said his eldest; "and I can help you." "And your two feet, papa, to carry you about, and your two eyes to see with, papa," said little Eddie. "And you have God's promises," said the grandmother. "And a good God," said his wife. "And heaven to go to," said his little girl. "And Jesus who came to fetch us there," said his eldest. "God forgive me!" said the poor merchant, bursting into tears. "I have not lost my all. What have I lost to what I have left!" He took comfort, and began the world afresh.

— Cameron

When the Athenians built the Temple of Minerva, a statue was wanted to place upon its top. A poor mechanic competed for the prize with a wealthy sculptor of noble birth. The day came for raising the stone. That of the patrician was unveiled amid raptures of applause; but it was so small, that as it ascended its beauty disappeared, and, when it reached the top, it seemed but a shapeless block. The statue of the poor mechanic was next unveiled. It seemed huge and uncouth, and resembled nothing divine or human; but, as it ascended, its apparent deformity disappeared; it grew more and more comely; and finally, when it reached the top, it seemed animate with divine beauty and life. The poor mechanic won the laurel, and was borne off amid the shouts of the multitude. If among us there are men who appear rough and uncouth, it is because we have not lifted them up.

Mr. Disraeli might well have given up after his first speech in the House of Commons: many men would never have opened their lips there again. There is sublimity in his words, "The day will come when you will be glad to hear me," when we read it by the light of events. Galileo, compelled to appear to come down did not give up. Still it moves. The great Nonconformist preacher, Robert Hall, broke down in his first attempt to preach; but he did not give up. Mr. Tennyson might have given up, had he been disheartened by the sharp reviews of his earliest volume. George Stephenson might also have given up, when his railway and his locomotive were laughed out of the Parliament Committee. Mr. Thackeray might have given up when the publishers refused to have any thing to do with "Vanity Fair."

A traveller among the mountains of Madeira set out for a distant summit, but was soon lost in a thick mist. He would have given up in despair; but his guide ran on before, constantly calling out, "Press on, master, press on: there's light beyond!" In a little time, they had passed the region of clouds and darkness, and stood upon the mountain's top, with not a cloud to obstruct the vision. Beclouded, despondent pilgrim, "Press on: there's light beyond."

Little Charley was the dull boy of his school. Even his master, sometimes taunted him with his deficiencies. One day, a gentleman who was visiting the school looked over some boys who were making their first attempt to write. There was a general burst of amusement at poor Charley's effort. He colored, but was silent. "Never mind, my lad," said the gentleman, cheering, "don't be discouraged: just do your very best, and you will be a writer some day. I recollect, when I first began to write, being quite as awkward as you are; but I persevered: and now look here." He took a pen, and wrote his name on a piece of paper in fine, legible characters. "See what I can do now!" he added. Many years afterwards, that gentleman met Charley again. He had turned out one of the most celebrated men of his day; and he expressed his firm conviction that he owed his success in life, under God's blessing, to the encouraging speech made by the school-visitant.

"Look up!" thundered the captain of a vessel, as his boy grew giddy while gazing from the topmast,— "look up!" The boy looked up, and returned in safety. Young man, look up, and you will succeed. Never look down and despair. Leave dangers uncared for, and push on. If you falter, you lose. Do right, and trust in God.

At one point in Dr. Bangs's ministry, he became greatly discouraged, and attempted to leave his work. A significant dream relieved him. He thought he was working with a pick-axe on the top of a basaltic rock. His muscular arm brought down stroke after stroke for hours; but the rock was hardly indented. He said to himself, at last, "It is useless: I will pick no more." Suddenly, a stranger of dignified, mien stood by his side, and thus spoke to him: "You will pick no more?" — "No." — "Were you not set to this task?" — "Yes." — "And why abandon it?"—"My work is vain: I make no impression on the rock." Solemnly the stranger replied, "What is that to you? Your duty is to pick, whether the rock yields or not. Your work is in your own hands: the result is not. Work on!" He resumed his task. The first blow was given with almost superhuman force, and the rock flew into a thousand pieces. He awoke, returned to his work, and a great revival followed. From that day, he never had a temptation to give up his commission.

— Dr. Stevens

At a critical moment during the battle of Waterloo, Wellington discovered that the Forty-second Highlanders began to waver. On inquiry as to the cause of an occurrence so unusual, he was informed that the band had ceased to play. He instantly gave the command that the pipes be played in full force. The effect was magical. The wavering Highlanders rallied; and solid and impregnable as the fort of Gibraltar, with tattered colors and blood-drenched swords, they went forth to win the hard-contested field.

— Donkersly

A bishop of the Church of England, who was tutor to a princess, said to her, "I find that my instructions have made you but little better." She replied, "Ah! But, my lord, you do not know how much worse I should have been without them."

It is not necessary in our meetings for conference and prayer, that a Christian should speak with a high degree of ability and talent, in order to be a benefit to the meeting. An exhortation with little logical connexion or rhetorical beauty about it, poured from a feeling heart, has often produced more deep and powerful impressions than the most elaborate addresses. A few words even, from a weak and trembling disciple, have frequently done more execution than a long discourse from others.

There was a feeble stammering brother in the southern part of Connecticut, who deemed his gift so small that he usually kept silent in religious meetings. But on one occasion, in the midst of a revival, his emotions were so strong that he could not keep his seat. He rose to give his feelings vent; but all the stammerer could say, was, "My BRETHREN, THE LORD IS GOOD," and then sat down. But his words fell with power on the hearts of those present, thrilled them like an electric stroke, and gave a fresh and lively interest to the meeting.—Who could not say as much!

Let us not give heed to gloomy and discouraging remarks. In the name of our great Commander let us march on to battle and to victory. There are some generals whose name alone is worth more than a whole army of ten thousand men. In our army in the Civil War there were some whose presence sent a cheer all along the line. As they passed on, cheer upon cheer went up. The men knew who was going to lead them, and they were sure of having success. “The boys” liked to fight under such generals as that. Let us encourage ourselves in the Lord, and encourage each other; then we shall have good success.

My friend Smith told me, that once on a time he had Mr. Jones to preach in his church. Smith's church holds fifteen hundred people, and is perfectly filled by its congregation, of this circumstance Smith is pardonably proud. When Mr. Jones preached, the church was quite crowded, save that three seats (not pews, seats for a single person each) were vacant in a front gallery. But so keen was Mr. Jones's eye for darks, to the oblivion of lights, that after service he merely said to Smith that he had remarked three seats empty in the gallery. Not one thought or word had he for the fourteen hundred and ninety-seven scats that were filled. Smith was a little mortified. But by-and-by he remembered that the peculiar disposition of Mr. Jones was one that would inflict condign punishment upon itself. Then he was sorry rather than angry. Yes, my friend, let us be glad if we have an eye for the lights of life, rather than for its darks!— Autumn Holidays of a Country Parson.

The following inspiring advice is by Willis Warren Kent:

Aim high! Watch the target with an eye Steady as the eaglet’s glance; Fit your arrow, let it fly, Fear no failure, no mischance! Aim high!

Aim high! Tho your arrows hurtle by, Miss the target, sail below, Pick them up, once more to try, Arms a-tangle, eyes aglow! Aim high!

Aim high! Learn to laugh and cease to sigh, Learn to hide your deep chagrin! Life’s a test at archery Where the true of heart will win! Aim high!

The outburst of the matchless hymnic genius of Isaac Watts was the response to a challenge. When a youth of eighteen he complained to his father, who was a deacon in an Independent church at Southampton, England, of the poor quality of the hymns sung in the nonconformist services of the time. “Suppose you make a few,” said his father, with more than a suggestion of gentle sarcasm. Taking up the challenge, the poet retired; and soon, out from his seclusion where he had put on his “singing robes,” came the hymn: “Behold the Glories of the Lamb,” which was sung at an early meeting; and so began a career of hymn-writing which continued through the author’s life, and which later aroused to song a whole nest of singing-birds.

Sailors who navigate the seas on the South Atlantic coast are always glad when they near the harbor of Savannah, for that means that they will pass within saluting distance of the “little lighthouse girl.” This is the officially accepted title of Florence Martus, who has for the last eleven years waved a friendly signal to every craft passing between the city and the sea. It is a hobby of this young girl to greet the ships that go and wish them a safe return, and greet the ships that come and congratulate them on their voyage.

The Martus dwelling is the only habitation on Elba Island. There is no landing wharf, and visitors arrive on an average once a year. The barks, the steamers, and the various other craft never get near enough for an exchange of greetings other than that most expressive form of good will, the waving of a handkerchief by day and of a lantern by night. And as the girl sends out her welcome, the seamen who know all about her, and who would resent the elimination of the ceremony which she so popularized, send back an answering salute, three “toots” of the steam-whistle. Then Miss Martus is as happy as a belle at a debutante party.

It is her desire that no vessel shall pass the lighthouse without receiving a salute. She never overlooks a sail in the daytime, and her handkerchief is ever ready for its service of cordiality. She says it is her ambition to signal every ship that touches at Savannah. She was asked her reason for signalling the passing sea throng, and she answered that it was to cheer the crew.

This beautiful and unselfish ministry illustrates how a noble heart invents ways to scatter sunshine. The world passes us like ships on the sea. How much interest do we take in others? How far a kind word, or smile, or handshake goes to help the friendless and hopeless. It is not the great acts but the little deeds of kindness that make human beings happy. (Text.)

The prediction that “a little child shall lead them” applies in this poem to a skeptic rather than to ravenous beasts.

A little child walked by my side, I had lost faith in God and man, He prattled of his joys and hopes As only little children can. I did not try to blast his hopes, I did not tell him of my pain, And, somehow, when our walk was done, My shattered faith was whole again.

--RENA HURD INGHAM, _Congregationalist_. (Text.)