41 Sermon Illustrations on Evangelism

Dwight L. Moody was passing along the streets of Chicago when he spied two little girls playing out in front of an underground saloon. His heart was instantly moved with compassion for the children, and he walked straightway into the cellar. The barkeeper, thinking that he wanted a drink, said, "What will you have?" "Those children for my Sunday school," replied Moody. "Children for your Sunday school! Do you know where you are? An infidel club meets here every Thursday night." But the tactful soul winner knew it was not a time for retreat, so, resting his elbows on the bar, he looked into the face of this father and pleaded with him earnestly in behalf of the little girls. Finally, the man's heart was touched and he said, "I will tell you what I will do, parson. If you will come down here next Thursday night and meet the boys in a joint discussion, and you win, you shall have the children; but if not, it is all off." "Agreed," exclaimed Moody. "I will be here." Taking his departure, he looked up a little crippled newsboy whom he knew, who could pray effectually and said to him, "Tommy, I want you next Thursday night." When the hour arrived, Tommy and the evangelist entered the saloon. It was full. The men were sitting on whiskey barrels, on beer kegs and on the counter, while others were at the windows in expectation of a debate. Moody opened the meeting by saying: "Gentlemen, it is our custom to open our meetings with prayer. Tommy, jump on that barrel and pray," whereupon Tommy perched himself on the barrel, turned his little face up toward heaven, and how he did pray! As the tears stole down his cheeks, the more tenderhearted beat a retreat; and finally those more rock-like, subdued by the pathos and spiritual power of the occasion, slowly retired, until there were none left except the barkeeper, Moody and the praying boy. "That will do, Tommy," exclaimed the evangelist. "I claim the children," said he, turning to the father. "They are yours according to contract," replied the father, "but it is a queer way to fight." "It is the way I win my battles," said Moody. He had instructed the little boy not to cease praying until he had prayed them all out. It was a piece of strategy full of tactfulness. The reality, the venturesomeness, and the tact of such a man is worth emulating. Can You Wait? Having to wait for someone or something is difficult. What we want, we want now. Our fast food must be just that-fast. Instant pudding, instant rice, and instant results are part of our way of life. One individual prayed for patience and told the Lord that he wanted it "Right away!" However, we know so agonizingly well that the Lord does not work on our time table. Having to wait upon the Lord (Psalms 27:14; Psalms 37:34) can be painful at times! The principle of the Lord working as He wills requires faith. He is never late! His promises are sure. May we have the faith and patience to wait! The Lord will work out His plan, His way and in His time.

Why Not-give a friend a tract? Why Not-help an older couple with their groceries? Why Not-share with a neighbor in need? Why Not-talk to a friend about his soul? Why Not-help a friend with a personal problem? Why Not-have a Bible study with a friend in your home? Why Not-visit with the newcomer in your community? Why Not-invite your children's friends to Bible study? Why Not-show hospitality in your home? Why Not-give encouragement to a new brother? Why Not-give support to those who are having trouble in their marriage? Why Not-encourage someone to take a Bible correspondence course? Why Not-show concern to those who have lost a loved one? Why Not-show to others that Christianity is worth sharing anytime, anywhere? Why Not-invite the checkout person at the grocery to worship service? Why Not-give a smile to someone today? Let them know that you are happy as a Christian? Why Not-be nice to people even when you do not feel like it? Why Not-let God work His purposes in your life? Why Not-start loving your neighbors as yourself?

An Australian native preacher went to a little church in the bush to preach. It was dusk when he arrived, the place was without light, and he wondered what to do about it. Presently, he saw twinkling lights moving about through the bush. His congregation was arriving. Each person carried a hurricane lamp, and as they came in they placed their lamps upon a shelf around the chapel wall. Soon the whole place was flooded with light. Each had contributed light that had dispelled the darkness. Your share is needed in a world which desperately needs the illumination of the gospel. A Higher Honor When an important building was about to be erected, a certain artist begged to be permitted to make one of the doors. If this could not be permitted, he asked that he might make one little panel of one of the doors. Or if this, too, were denied him, he craved that he might at least be permitted to hold the brushes for the artist to whom the honor of doing work should be awarded. If so small a part in a work of earth were esteemed so high a privilege, it is a far higher honor to have even the least share with Christ in His great work of human redemption.

Over one million copies of this book have been sold since the first issue. No single volume in the history of literature on the American continent has met with such a sale, and probably the only approximate comparison in the world is that of "Pilgrim's Progress."

Both of these volumes, it should be noted, derive their merited power and success from the vital truths of the Holy Scriptures which they so aptly illustrate. May Heaven's blessing follow.

Self-made, and conscious of the absolute truthfulness of every Bible declaration, Dwight Lyman Moody is today, perhaps, the most independent and powerful of living evangelists. Man, rather than books, and God, rather than man, have been his study, and made his life intensely individual, and one which has constantly increased in good works. In his thirty-five years labor for Christ, from his mission class of fourteen scholars in a Chicago saloon, down to the ten thousand listening souls in the Halls of Europe and Tabernacles of America, he has been the same faithful, persevering, original, and pungent D. L. Moody, with an unshaken faith in God, and a burning desire for the conversion of souls. At home Mr. Moody is cheerful and happy; in the social circle he is genial and companionable; in the pulpit he is Truth on fire. His native town is Northfield, Mass., where he was born February 5th, 1837. He is therefore now, (1896), fifty-nine years old.

A man was preaching about Christians recognizing each other in heaven, and some one said, "I wish he would preach about recognizing each other on earth." In one place where I preached, I looked over the great hall of the old circus building where it was held, and saw men talking to other men here and there. I said to the Secretary of the Young Men's Christian Association who got up the meeting, "Who are these men?" He said, "They are a band of workers." They were all scattered through the hall, and preaching and watching for souls. Out of the fifty of them, forty-one of their number had got a soul each and were talking and preaching with them. We have been asleep long enough. When the laity wake up and try and help the minister the minister will preach better.

I was very much interested some time ago in a young lady that lived in the city. I don't know her name, or I have forgotten it. She was about to go to China as the wife of a missionary on his way to some heathen field. She had a large Sabbath-school class in the city and succeeded in getting a blessing upon many of her scholars through her efforts. She was very anxious to get some one who would look after her little flock and take care of them while she was gone. She had a brother who was not a Christian, and her heart was set on his being converted and taking her place as leader of the class. The young man--perhaps he is in the audience to-day--refused to accept of Christ, but away in her closet alone she pleaded with God that her brother might be converted and take her place. She wanted to reproduce herself and that is what every Christian ought to do--get somebody else converted to take up your work. Well, the last morning came, and around the family altar as the moment drew near for the lady's departure, and they did not know when they should see her again, the father broke down, and the boy went up stairs. Just before she left for the train the boy came down, and putting his arms around his sister's neck, said to her, "My dear sister, I will take your Saviour for mine, and I will take care of your class for you," and the young man took her class, and the last I heard of him he was filling her place. There was a young lady established in good work.

"A good man is always seeking to make others good, as fire turneth all things about it into fire." You cannot make fire stay where it is, it will spread as opportunity serves it. It will subdue all its surroundings to itself. Carlyle says that "man is emphatically a proselytizing creature," and assuredly the new creature is such. Life grows, and so invades the regions of death, and spiritual life is most of all intense in its growing and spreading. Liberty to hold our opinions but not to spread them is no liberty, for one of our main opinions is that we should bring all around us to Jesus, and to obedience to the truth. Lord, help us ever to be doing this, subduing the earth for thee by spreading on all sides the name of Jesus. Let our life burn till the whole world is on a blaze.

"As the fowler catches many birds by one decoy, a bird of the same feather, so God bringeth us to himself by men of the same nature, and subject to the same temptations and the same commands. He attracts us to himself by men with whom we may have ordinary and visible commerce, and not by angels, that might affright us. He calls us by our fellow-creatures, who are concerned in the message as much as we are; men that know the heart of a man by experience, and know our prejudices and temptations." In this choice of means, wisdom and condescension are equally manifest, for which we are bound to render grateful adoration. Blessed be God that he calls men by men, adopting thus the kindest and most effectual mode of dealing with us. We should also learn wisdom, and receive practical guidance from this act of God: when we would win our fellowmen for Jesus let us show ourselves to be near of kin to them. If, by a lofty and distant bearing, we act as if we belonged to another race, we shall be poor decoy-birds. The poor bird fascinates its like by being of their kith and kin, and we must capture hearts for Jesus by showing that we are of like passions

with them, and love them much. Love men to Jesus,—that is the art of soul-winning. Blessed Lord Jesus, thou didst thus win my heart for I had never loved thee and trusted thee if I had not perceived thee to be touched with a feeling of my infirmity. Thy sympathetic manhood draws my manhood to thee, and I am won to thy Father by thy brotherly love.

Let not your exertions end in tears; mere weeping will do nothing without action. Get on your feet: ye that have voices and might, go forth and preach the gospel; preach it in every street and lane of this huge city; ye that have wealth, go forth and spend it for the poor and sick and needy and dying, the uneducated, the unenlightened; ye that have time, go forth and spend it in deeds of goodness; ye that have power in prayer, go forth and pray; ye that can handle the pen, go forth and write down iniquity,—every one to his post; every one of you to your gun in this day of battle; now for God and for his truth; for God and for the right; let every one of us who knows the Lord seek to fight under his banner. Spurgeon.

Many professing Christians are like railroad stationhouses; and the wicked are whirled indifferently by them, and go on their way, forgetting them: whereas they should be like switches, taking sinners off one track, and putting them on to another. Beecher.

A peasant's family were seated in their cottage when the thatch on the roof was in flames; and, not knowing of the accident, their lives were in great danger. A man of slow habits, a spinner in speech, went in to them to explain the accident, and to point out the necessity of providing for their safety; but, while he was in the middle of his long-winded observations, another man rushed in, concentrating all he had to say in a single word. "Fire, fire!" cried he; when the alarmed throng immediately started up, and, hurrying through the cottage-door, escaped the danger. G. Moyride.

Rev. Rowland Hill, addressing the people of Wotton, exclaimed, "Because I am in earnest, men call me an enthusiast. When I first came into this part of the country, I was walking on yonder hill, and saw a gravel-pit fall in, and bury three human beings alive. I lifted up my voice for help so loud, that I was heard in the town below, at a distance of near a mile. Help came, and rescued two of the sufferers. No one called me an enthusiast then; and when I see eternal destruction ready to fall on poor sinners, and about to entomb them irrecoverably in an eternal mass of woe, and call aloud on them to escape, shall I be called an enthusiast now? No, sinner: I am no enthusiast in so doing; and I call on thee aloud to fly for refuge to the hope set before thee in the gospel."

Dr. Chalmers was once in company at a nobleman's place with a Highland chief. The chief was much interested in the doctor's brilliant conversation. The two were shown into adjoining rooms to sleep. While preparing for bed, the chief was prostrated by apoplexy, and soon died. This event called forth the following to those who had gathered about the corpse: "Never, in my life, did I see, or did I feel, before this moment, the meaning of that text, 'Preach the word; be instant in season, and out of season.' Had I known that my venerable old friend was within a few minutes of eternity, I would have addressed myself earnestly to him; I would have preached unto him and you Christ Jesus, and him crucified; I would have urged him and you, with all the earnestness befitting the subject, to prepare for eternity. You would have thought it, and you would have pronounced it, out of season; but, ah! it would have been in season, both as it respected him, and as it respects you."

There are preachers by myriads and majorities, and deeply pious ones too, that never once in all their lives distinctly concentrated their purposes to the single point of converting men. Their efforts are to finish an eloquent sermon, to develop theological or biblical truth, to thrill aesthetically an audience, to pour forth general religious emotion, to spread a popular fame, to gather crowds, to build a large church, &c. Verily these have often their reward, namely, success in their objects. But here is a lone-some preacher who does not object to all these; but with or without them, by study, by closet, by pulpit, by pastoral work, some or all, he MEANS to convert souls, and just so many as he can. Where this is attained, all the other success is well enough. Where this is not attained, all the other success does not comfort him a penny: he goes off crest-fallen and disappointed, indignant at the Devil and himself. He will not stay there where Satan has beaten him; but he will go where, please God, he can get some souls. Dr. Whedon.

A society was some years ago established to distribute tracts by post in the higher circles. One of these tracts entitled, "Prepare to meet thy God," was enclosed in an envelope, and sent by post to a gentleman well known for his ungodly life and his reckless impiety. He was in his study when he read this letter among others. "What's that?" said he. "Prepare to meet thy God." Who has had the impudence to send me this cant?" And, with an impression on his unknown correspondent, he arose to put the paper in the fire. "No; I won't do that," he said to himself: "on second thought, I know what I will do. I'll send it to my friend B—: it will be a good joke to hear what he'll say about it." So saying, he enclosed the tract in a fresh cover, and, in a feigned hand, directed it to his boon companion. Mr. B— was a man of his own stamp, and received the tract, as his friend had done, with an oath at the Methodistical humbug, which his first impulse was to tear in pieces. "I'll not tear it either," said he to himself. "Prepare to meet thy God" at once arrested his attention, and smote his conscience. The arrow of conviction entered his heart as he read, and he was converted. Almost his first thought was for his ungodly associates. "Have I received such blessed light and truth, and shall I not strive to communicate it to others?" He again folded the tract, and enclosed and directed it to one of his companions in sin. Wonderful to say, the little arrow hit the mark. His friend read. He also was converted; and both are now walking as the Lord's redeemed ones.

Mr. Robert Aitkin, a bookseller of Philadelphia, was the first person who printed a Bible in that city. While he kept a bookstore, a person called on him, and inquired if he had Paine's "Age of Reason" for sale. He told him he had not; but having entered into conversation with him, and found that he was an infidel, he told him he had a better book than Paine's "Age of Reason," which he usually sold for a dollar, but would lend it to him, if he would promise to read it; and after he had actually read it, if he did not think it worth a dollar, he would take it again. The man consented; and Mr. Aitkin put a Bible into his hands. He smiled when he found what book he had engaged to read; but said he would perform his engagement. He did so; and when he had finished the perusal, he came back, and expressed the deepest gratitude for Mr. Aitkin's recommendation of the book, saying it had made him what he was not before—a happy man; for he had found in it the way of salvation through Christ. Mr. Aitkin rejoiced in the event, and had the satisfaction of knowing that this reader of the Bible, from that day to the end of his life, supported the character of a consistent Christian, and died with a hope full of immortality.

A minister in Wiltshire, walking near a brook, observed a poor woman washing wool in the stream; which is done by piecing it in a sieve, and dipping it in there, intimating that a very learned brahmin was in his house, and that he and his friends very much wished to hear this brahmin and the missionaries engage in an amicable dispute respecting the merits of Hindooism and Christianity. Two of the missionaries went. The brahmin opened the debate, charged the missionaries with bad motives, and misrepresented their doctrines in an ill-tempered manner.

The missionaries stated in reply, that Christianity was a religion of love; that God so loved the world as to send his only-begotten Son, the Lord Jesus Christ, into it; that the Son of God so loved the fallen race of men, as to give his life a sacrifice for their sins; and that missionaries were impelled to leave their beloved relatives and friends, and the comforts of their native home, from the same principle. They then explained the leading truths of Christianity, the substance of which was, that all men every where ought to worship that God who made them, and to worship him alone.

The brahmin's countenance underwent a change as the missionaries were speaking, and in his rejoinder he said, "I am a brahmin, and cannot, therefore, be expected to say, that I deem Christianity to be superior to Hindooism; but, in candor, I must say, that the temper of these Christians is superior to that of us Hindoos. Gentlemen," the brahmin said, turning to the missionaries, "your temper is boro prarthoneco;" that is, greatly to be prayed for. "We took our leave," say the missionaries, "convinced that the cause of Christianity had that day risen in the opinion of some influential inhabitants of Chinsurah."

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the water repeatedly, until it is white and clean. He engaged in conversation with her, and, from some expressions of regret and gratitude which she uttered, was induced to ask her if she knew him. "O yes, sir," she replied, "and I hope I shall have reason to bless God for you to all eternity. I heard you preach at W—, some years back; and hope your sermon was the means of doing me great good."

"Indeed, I rejoice to hear it; pray what was the subject?" "Ah, sir, I can't recollect that; mine is such a bad head." "How then can it have done you good, if you don't even remember it?" "Sir, my poor mind is like this sieve; the sieve doesn't hold the water, but it runs through and cleanses the wool: my memory does not keep the words, but, blessed be God, he made them touch the heart; and now I don't love sin; I go whenever I can to hear of Jesus Christ; and I beg of him every day to wash me in his own blood, which cleanses from all sin."

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A short time since, says Rev. Mr. Goodell, four of our Armenian brethren of the more ordinary class, I mean those whom we have never called upon in our meetings to take an active part, went on a little excursion to a place in the interior, for a change of air. Here they found quite a party of their countrymen; for the place is rather celebrated for its salubrious air and is much frequented in summer. And here, amid much ridicule at first, they established daily prayer-meetings and labored directly for the conversion of those whom they found there. And the result was that during the eight or ten days they remained, they had the happiness of seeing sixteen of those who had lately soothed, join their little praying circle, and take part in the devotional exercises. These four brethren have just returned with joy to the capital, bringing some of their sheaves with them.

The Evangelical Magazine, for 1823, gives an account of a gentleman at Liverpool furnishing the steward of a merchant vessel, which was about to leave that port to trade in the Mediterranean, with a parcel of tracts. The following is the account of the effects they produced:

You recollect, on my taking leave of you, you placed in my hand a small parcel of tracts, and I promised to read them; this I have done. On leaving this port, we had a favorable wind through the Channel; the wind then chopped round direct in our teeth. We had to contend with light contrary winds till we entered the Gut of Gibraltar. During this part of our voyage I had little or no opportunity to read the tracts: I did, on the first Sabbath, turn them over, and put a few in my pocket; and occasionally taking one out, gave it a sneering glance, and then handed it to one of the boys or men with a smile of ridicule. On passing the Gut, we had a tedious though pleasant voyage to Smyrna. Having much time upon my hands, I now and then looked at a tract to pass it away. One evening I was looking over the ship's side, viewing the calm and peaceful close of another day. This brought to my recollection the scenery and calmness of the evening when I took my last farewell of my friends at home. It was at sunset, on a lovely evening in July. Missing thus of home, I just then put my hand in my jacket pocket, and feeling a paper, took it out, and it proved to be a tract, “THE SWEARER'S PRAYER.” I read it aloud, in the hearing of the whole crew, and, I suppose, much of my feelings was must have been the wisest man of his day; for at that period no party had learned the wisdom of leaving truth to support itself by its own vigor.

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mixed with my tone of voice. When I had read it, a curious kind of silence ensued; not one of us felt inclined to raise his eyes from what they were fixed on, fearing to meet the look of another, and knowing that, to a man, we were all shockingly guilty of swearing. At length we looked at each other in a sidelong kind of way, and one man said, "Mr. William, I never heard or thought of this before; this kind of reading has made me feel very strange; I'm all over trembling. I don't think I shall like to swear again: shall you, Jack?" turning short to a seaman alongside of him, who looked him full in the face, and burst into tears. The shedding of tears ran like a contagion through the whole of us, even to the boy across the gun. After weeping in silence, with our faces hid with our hands, one man said, "Jack, suppose we hand up a prayer to God for forgiveness. Mr. William, you have had more learning than we, you can make a prayer." Alas! I had never prayed; I could only sigh; I really thought my heart would burst. Oh, how dreadful did sin appear! One of the men then broke the silence of grief; with his arms across his breast, and the tears of penitential sorrow rolling down his face, he cried out, "O God, who made our souls, have mercy, and pardon the miserable and damned crew on this deck." Not a heart but what responded, "Lord, hear this prayer, and forgive." But not to enter too long into detail, a change took place in the whole ship's company. One circumstance I must not forget to mention. The captain, a drunken, swearing character, thought his men bewitched. On the following morning he came on deck, and, as usual, was giving his orders, mixed with fearful oaths, when one of the men, in a most respectful manner, begged he would not swear at them they would obey his orders with more comfort to themselves without it. Indeed, the captain remarked to a person on his return, that he was himself obliged to refrain from swearing, it began to appear so singular on board.

Before the mission to the islands of the South Seas had proved successful, an English seaman, on board a trading vessel, called at Otaheite, and, through the blessing of God upon the efforts of the missionaries, was there called to the knowledge of the truth. Afterwards he was removed to a man-of-war, and became the happy instrument, by his example and conversation, of bringing thirteen or fourteen of his companions to a sense of their lost state and their need of salvation by Jesus Christ.