95 Sermon Illustrations on Good

Calvin and Hobbes on New Years resolutions:

Hobbes: How are you doing on your New Year's resolutions?

Calvin: I didn't make any.

See, in order to improve oneself, one must have some idea of

"good." That implies certain values. But as we all know, values

are relative. Every system of belief is equally valid and we

need to tolerate diversity. Virtue isn't "better" than vice.

It's just different.

Hobbes: I don't know if I can tolerate that much tolerance.

Calvin: I refuse to be victimized by notions of virtuous behavior.

#2980

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I had a very interesting day one summer when I was sixteen. I met a man who was a prisoner at Walkill State Correction Prison in upstate New York. He was in prison for armed robbery. Walked into a liquor store with a gun and tried to hold it up - until the man behind the counter brought out a much bigger gun. He was serving 10 years.

I also met that day a man who had been working in a cornfield when he saw a small plane crash in the field near him. He ran over to the burning plane and rescued its two occupants just moments before the plane exploded in a ball of fire.

We could describe one man as a bad man and one man as a good man ... if we were simply using the world's standards. But the man who pulled the people out of the plane was working in the cornfield of the Walkill State Prison where he was doing his ten years for walking into the liquor store with the gun.

The prison authorities took the approach that his good deed had outweighed much of the bad he had done, so they made him a trusty and assigned him to be a gardener at the warden's house, right next to the road. I met him because my aunt was the warden's cook and chief housekeeper and I was spending the day there. Two weeks later he walked away from the prison, was recaptured, and returned to finish his now extended time at Sing Sing instead of the medium security farm prison with fresh air, free time, and good food. His reward for his good behavior failed to recognize the underlying sinfulness of his soul.

A student of Amherst College, soon after entering, put over the door of his dormitory room the letter V. Because of it he endured all sorts of ridicule and withstood questioning. But he paid no attention to either, nor would he disclose the secret of the letter. When his four years were over, and graduation day came, that student was appointed to deliver the valedictory. Then the mystery of that letter V was revealed. It stood for valedictory. That letter on the door held before him during his four years the ideal that he had set for himself.

Not every boy puts a letter over the door of his college room or over the door of his house. But nevertheless, somewhere, if only in his mind, there is a letter that he pastes there and that holds before him an ideal. Some put up the letter M that stands for money. Others put up F, for fame. Others put up S, which may stand either for self or for service. It is a good idea once in a while to step outside your door and look at the letter you have put there. It may be that when you realize what it is you will want to change it.

________

Moody Monthly

A little boy was seen one day lounging around a circus tent. If there is anything in the world tempting to a boy it is a circus, and, knowing this, a gentleman said:

"Come, Johnny, let's go into the circus."

"No," said the boy, "father would not like it."

"But your father need not know it," said the man.

"But I will know it," said the boy, "and when father comes home tonight, I could not look up into his face."

Ah, how important! Able to look into our Father's face! He has been very good to us. No good thing has He withheld from us, and yet so many times we find ourselves unable to look into His face. God help us to live so close to Himself, so pure and so holy, that all the time we can be able to look into His face.

An Indian, being among his white neighbors, asked for a little

tobacco, and one of them having some loose in his pocket gave him a

handful. The day following, the Indian came back and inquired for the

donor, saying he had found a quarter of a dollar among the tobacco.

Being told that as it had been given to him he might as well keep it

he answered, pointing to his breast, "I got a good man and a bad man

here; and the good man say it is not mine I must return it to the

owner. The bad man say, 'Why? He gave it to you and it is your own

now.' The good man say, 'That's not right; the tobacco is yours, not

the money.' The bad man say, 'Never mind; you got it; go buy some

dram.' The good man say, 'No, no, you must not do so.' So I don't know

what to do and I think to go to sleep; but the good man and the bad

man keep talking all night and trouble me; and now I bring the money

back. I feel glad." --Christian Age

Too bad "the good man" didn't know enough to tell him to give the

tobacco back along with the quarter. --D. V. M.

Out in Wyoming's ranching country a severe snowstorm hit the area the Sunday before Christmas. Although the minister felt certain that nobody was going to show up for his church service because of the weather, he opened up the church just in case someone might appear. Sure enough, through the cold and snow, a weather-beaten cowboy appeared in the doorway of the church. The minister did not recognize the man as one of his parishioners, however he invited him in and the cowboy took a seat near the back of the church. After a wait of 20 minutes, it became apparent to the minister that this cowboy was going to be the only person to attend his church that day. Approaching the man, the minister asked him if he was expecting a full service.

“I've been a cowboy out in this part of the country all my life,” the fellow answered. “And all winter long I feed 500 cows every day. And come rain or shine, sleet or snow -whether one comes or all 500 come -- I feed them every day.” Duly inspired, the minister launched into a sermon that lasted the better part of an hour and a half. At the conclusion, the minister walked over to the cowboy and asked him how he enjoyed the service. “Like I said before,” the cowboy answered, “I've been feeding 500 cows every day all my life. And come rain or shine, sleet or snow -- whether one comes or all 500 come -- I feed them every day. But if only one cow comes, I don't dump the whole feed load.”

In a general way, the model pastor may be described in as few

words, as was a certain New England woman: "Mary Ann Prattt--Think

what a good woman should be--she was that."

This was the inscription put upon her monument to commemorate her

virtues. She was dead, and so, perhaps, is the model pastor or he is

laboring in some Utopian field far far away. But it is well to have as

many of his virtues as possible in the living and present pastor.

--Topical Illustrations

"Is it getting night?" said an old Scotch woman ninety-seven years

of age. "Husband," she said, "is it getting night?" And her aged

Scotch husband by her side, realizing that she was dying, bent down

close to her and said, "Yes, Janet, it is getting night," She was

wandering a bit and was back in the olden days with her loved ones,

but he knew that the end was near.

She was still a moment, and then said, "Are the boys all in?"

"Yes," he said, "the boys are all in, Janet." The last one had gone

home three years before. She was again still a moment more when she

said, "I will soon be in." "Yes, Janet, you will soon be in." "And you

will soon come too?" she asked. "Yes," he said, "by the grace of God,

I will soon come too." She reached out her thin hands in order that

she might clasp them round his neck and draw him down by her side as

she said, "And He will then shut us all in."

"All in." I wonder if you can say it--the boys all in; the girls

all in. It is a sad thing to have a boy that is a wanderer, and a girl

that is lost. --J. Wilbur Chapman

A Sunday school class of first-graders was asked to draw a picture of God. When the pastor stopped by to inspect their work, the children were happy to show him their drawings. One had depicted God in the form of a brightly colored rainbow. Another had drawn the face of an old man coming out of billowing clouds. And there was one rendition which looked a lot like Superman. But perhaps the best was the one proudly displayed by a girl who said, "I didn't know what God looked like, so I just drew a picture of my daddy."

The first-grader showed a lot of wisdom. Nobody knows what God looks like because nobody has seen Him, but God has revealed Himself as a Father to those who are related to Him by faith.

Money-centered people often put aside family or other priorities,

assuming everyone will understand that economic demands come first. I

know one father who was leaving with his children for a promised trip

to the circus when a phone call came for him to come to work instead.

He declined. When his wife suggested that perhaps he should have gone

to work, he responded, "The work will come again, but childhood

won't." For the rest of their lives his children remembered this

little act of priority setting, not only as an object lesson in their

minds but as an expression of love in their hearts. --Stephen R. Covey

Often, and often, my thoughts go back,

Like wanderers over a timeworn track,

To the time when I knelt at my mother's knee,

And she sang at the twilight hour to me.

Oh, the dear old songs! I can see her eyes

Aglow with the gladness of paradise,

As I fancy she sings in the streets of gold,

The hymns that she sang in the days of old.

As she sang them over, her face grew bright,

As if God's city was just in sight,

And she saw the angels and heard them sing

By the great white throne before the King.

The heavenly songs can no sweeter be

Than the songs that my mother made dear to me,

And in God's city I hope someday

To hear them sung in my mother's way.

--Eben E. Rexford

\reference{Ecclesiastes 11:1}{Ecclesiastes 11:1} says: "Cast thy

bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days." The

Moslems have a proverb which is probably a comment on this verse:

"Strew thy bread upon the surface of the water and on the dry land,

and thou shalt find it in the end of days."

The caliph of Bagdad had a son who was drowned while bathing in the

river. He offered a large reward to anyone who should recover the

boy's body. After seven days, a bather discovered the boy alive in a

cavern in a precipitous mountain, past which the river flowed. The

caliph learned that the boy had been kept from starvation by cakes of

bread floating on the water, on which cakes were stamped the name of a

Moslem of Bagdad. The caliph summoned the Moslem and asked him what

had induced him to throw bread into the water. He replied that he had

done so every day for a year in order to test the truth of the

proverb. The caliph thereupon rewarded him with five villages in the

vicinity of Bagdad.

The legend, which has all the elements of possibility in it,

reiterates the truth of the proverb that deeds done unselfishly for

others, not only do good to the one for whom they are done, but return

in blessings upon the head of the doer. --McCartney

Sometimes even the brute creation shames us by their faithfulness. Henry Ward Beecher once, when about to take a ride, said to the man who brought the horse: "That is a fine-looking animal; is he as good as he looks?" The man replied: "Mr. Beecher, that is the best horse in our stable. He will work in any place you put him, and he can do anything any horse can." The great preacher eyed him for a moment with increased admiration, and then humorously remarked: "I wish...he was a member of our church."

-- Topical Illustrations

When travelers climb dangerous precipices in Switzerland, they

frequently go tied together and all fastened to the guide, who steps

carefully and climbs most cautiously up and down the dangerous part of

the mountain. A company of tourists climbing one day made rapid

progress until suddenly one of them slipped. He pulled down the second

and the third and so on, until it seemed as if all would be dashed to

death over the precipice. But the guide knew exactly what to do. With

gigantic strength, he wielded the peculiar ice pick that he carried

and struck it deep into the ice; and when the strain came upon him the

rope tightened and all were saved.

We are thus bound together by he cord of influence. One slipping is

likely to pull down another, but it is a possible thing for the awful

power of the downward tendency to be averted if just one man in a

company or one member in a household is planted firmly on the Rock of

Ages. Whether we choose to be, or not, we are our brother's keepers.

--J Wilbur Chapman

Gustav Dore, the famous artist, lost his passport while traveling

in Europe. He was at a certain boundary post between two countries

and the officer in charge asked him for his passport. Dore fumbled

about and finally announced, "I have lost my passport, but it is all

right. I'm Dore, the artist. Please let me go in." The officer

replied, "Oh, no. We have plenty of people representing themselves as

this or that great person! Here is a pencil and paper. Now, if you are

Dore, the artist, prove it by drawing me a picture! " Dore took the

pencil and drew some pictures of scenes in the immediate area.

"Now, I am perfectly sure that you are Dore. No one else could draw

like that! " said the officer as he allowed the great artist to enter

the country. So it is with professing followers of Christ. You say you

are a Christian. But can you really produce evidence? -- Power

Perhaps some of you may have heard of that old man, who was a

deacon of the church. It is said an infidel miller came to tell his

experience to the church, and some one said to him, "How can this be?"

He was a man who had denied his God' denied the Gospel, and denied

every thing that was good. But said he; "When I used to run my mill on

Sunday, the deacon used to go down regularly to church every Sunday,

passing by at a certain hour, and I saw him go. He never said a word

to me, but some how his influence seemed to take hold of me, so that I

said, ' I am not going to trample on that man's good sense and

Christianity any more by running this mill when he goes by; and so,

when I thought it was about time for the deacon to go by, I would shut

the mill down, and wait till he got past, half and hour or so, and

then start it up again. By and by that process of action let me to

think there was something in religion, some power in it, and I gave

myself up to Christ, just under that influence; and here I am today

with my heart right before God." --Albert P. Graves

Happy a man as can probably be in this place; and one great source of my happiness is, the remembrance that God gave me a praying father. When I was young, he passed away to the better land, and left upon my memory impressions that were hallowed by prayer and hope. And this very night it seems as if I can lean upon a father’s prayers. But those influences have no such power over me now as they had when I was a young man. I was six miles away from home when my father died. I stepped into the house about sundown, and the lady of the house said, “Albert, I have some sad news for thee.” “What is it?” “The messenger has just been here -- thy dear father is dead; he died very suddenly.”

Oh, how I felt it! I dropped my head quickly, turned around, went through a little hall into the adjoining room, sat down, and put my elbows on my knees, folded my face in my hands, and wept as only a fatherless boy of nine years can weep. By and by I went up to my bed, and wept myself to sleep. In the morning I prepared myself, and went home. Little did I dream of the rich legacy that my father had left me. Would that I had never abused it! I entered the house. My dear mother sat on the opposite side of the room with her children and a few friends around her. She arose and came to me, put her arms around my neck, and kissed me as only a loving mother can kiss an orphan boy. The first words she breathed into my ears were these, “Your dear father’s last words were, ‘Tell Albert to prepare to meet me in Heaven.’”

I wish that I had never abused those golden words, or trampled upon the love of that dear mother! She lived to be nearly eighty. Two years ago, when I was away down in New Orleans, just going into the pulpit one night, a message was put into my hands -- “Mother died last night at eleven o’clock.” I sent back word as soon as I could: “Put my dear mother in the vault until I can come and see her face once more.” I laid her in the grave; but positively, young man, the saddest impression of my heart with my dear father and mother’s memory is that I abused their love.

In 1930 in South Dakota a Christian school teacher went into a small town to teach in a consolidated school. There was a church in the village, but they were struggling for an existence. They had no pastor. She felt led to throw her influence into the work of helping the church and Sunday School to reach the boys and girls and parents of the community. Soon the burden for the souls of these people began to weigh heavily upon her. God seemed to be calling her to conduct church services and to tell them the Gospel story. She yielded to His will and began announcing the preaching services.

A small group greeted her each Sunday, but not enough to suit her. This was the only church for many miles and she knew that these people were getting very little, if any, spiritual food. In her sleep she could see these precious boys and girls, fathers and mothers tramping steadily on to the Judgment. And how they stood in the eyes of God, she could not be sure. Yet she could see their lives were not measuring up to the standards of the Bible. She said, “I will not be here long. My stay in this community may be short. I am going to meet everyone of these souls at the Judgment. What I do for them I must do quickly...I will cast an uplifting influence over them. Maybe I can rescue some of them from the clutches of sin and Satan.”

She went to work. She began to spend her school days with reading of a portion of God’s Word. She went about on Saturdays, and during the evenings inviting the people out to church. She sent invitations home with the children to the parents. She prayed, cried and held on to God in prayer. Her travail of soul for the lost could be heard in the night hours. She took walks up the road and over the hills that she might be alone. In the main the people remained unconcerned, indifferent and distant. She could have grown discouraged and given up or could have said, “After all they have hired me to teach arithmetic, reading spelling, writing and geography. Here I am a self-appointed spiritual worker. Why spend my leisure hours in the evenings and on Saturdays praying and inviting the folks and preparing talks for the children? I may as well take life a bit easier.”

But no, she reasoned again, “I am a steward of my life and my influence. I cannot face these boys and girls and parents at the Judgment unless I have done my best for their spiritual welfare. I will continue on, trusting the God who called me to bring the harvest and the increase.” She worked on, writing cards, smiling, praying, preaching, persuading and entreating men to seek the Lord. (See part two for the conclusion)

Right in the middle of the highway at Midlothian, Virginia there is

a singular monument to an old-time country doctor. He had done such

service to the community that the people wanted to erect a memorial to

him in the village while he was yet alive. But the doctor was too

modest for that, and said: "When I die, you all just bury me wherever

I be." Shortly afterward, as he was driving his buggy on his way to a

sick patient, he died there in the middle of the road, and there

today, right in the middle of the road so that you have to drive your

automobile round it as you pass through the village, stands that

singular monument.

Over the door to the operating theater of one of the Philadelphia

hospitals, I used to read these words: "Think not the beautiful doings

of thy soul shall perish unremembered. They abide with thee forever,

and alone the good thou doest nobly, truth and love approve. Each pure

and gentle deed of mercy brings an honest recompense, and from it

looms that sovereign knowledge of thy duty done, a joy beyond all

dignities of earth." --McCartney

Yet, we must ever remember that one's good works do not guarantee

an entrance into heaven, for Jesus Himself tells us that many who have

done "many wonderful works" will be forced to depart from Him into

everlasting fire. --Duane V. Maxey

On one of the arches in a magnificent cathedral in Europe is

sculptured a face of wondrous beauty. It can be seen only once a year

when the sun is in a certain position, for then its rays streaming

through a small window illuminate the exquisite carving. According to

legend, when the structure was being built, an old man came and begged

permission to work on some portion of the great church. He had been a

well-known artist, but now his trembling hands and failing sight

caused the architect to fear that he would mar the beautiful edifice.

Out of respect for his age and reputation, however, he allowed the

artisan to chisel a design under the shadows of the vaulted roof,

thinking no one would ever see it there. After months of painstaking

labor, the elderly gentleman could hardly work his way up to the

platform high above the floor, yet he insisted on one more climb to

make a few finishing touches. When he failed to come down by

nightfall, a workman went up and discovered his lifeless body. His

tools lay beside him, and his sightless eyes were fixed on the

marvelous face he had wrought in the marble. Although he thought it

would never be seen, he had given his all to produce a masterpiece. An

authority on sculpture recently declared, "This is the most

magnificent work of all, for love wrought it!"

We don't always know the motives of others -- good or bad.

One minister was walking down a row of fine old Victorian homes on

a cold day when he spotted a young boy on the front porch of one home.

The old-fashioned doorbell was set high in the door, and the little

fellow was too short to ring it despite his leaping attempts.

Feeling sorry for the youngster, the minister stepped up onto the

porch and vigorously rang the bell for him. "And now what, young man?"

inquired the minister.

"Now," exclaimed the boy, "we run like crazy!"

An old Southern doctor had his office over a drugstore. In front of

the drugstore was a sign reading: "Dr. Riley is upstairs." When the

old doctor died, after a long life of day and night service for

mankind, he left no money even for his burial, and across account

after account on his books they found the entry "Paid off". When he

was buried, his friends wanted to put up some memorial or stone on his

grave. They had no money for an expensive stone or marker, so they set

up over his grave the sign that was in front of the drugstore, and

that was his beautiful epitaph: "Dr. Riley is upstairs." --McCartney

If indeed he shall be in heaven, however, it will be because of

what Christ did for him at Calvary, and not because of what he did for

others. Sometimes the good deeds of kindly people have caused others

to pronounce their sainthood or sure entrance into heaven. Such

sentiment in itself is no guarantee that the one whom they revere

shall truly enter into heaven. Note this in regard to the following

illustration as well. --Duane V. Maxey

Ivan Seidenberg CEO of NYNEX tells of his first job as a janitor of

an office building in Manhattan. He was 18. He and the building

superintendent had to open the building each day and make sure the

heat worked, the elevators ran and the glass in the lobby was

spotless. He also ran the freight elevator, helped unload deliveries

and swept the floors. The superintendent was an older man named Mike.

He said little but watched everything very carefully. One day he asked

about a book Ivan was reading. Ivan explained he was putting himself

through college at night. Mike said Okay, and walked away. Four

months later he came up to Ivan and remarked, You know, there are

companies that will help you pay for school. Ivan asked which ones,

and Mike told him about the electric and phone companies continuing

education programs for their employees. Ivan filled out the

applications and took the employment tests. He heard back first from

the telephone company, so he took a job as a splicer's helper. Except

for 22 months in the Army, he has worked at NYNEX ever since. Says

Ivan, In the year I worked for Mike he didn't say much, but those few

words spoke volumes. He gave me a helping hand. If you take pride in

your work and do a good job, you never know who might be watching and

one day provide a boost. Now when I talk to janitors and other

employees, I ask, 'What's happening?' Invariably they tell me

something I didn't know. It doesn't matter if you're the janitor or

the CEO, values and performance count people are watching.

A construction company executive came out to a work site one day to

inspect his workers' craftsmanship. He approached a carpenter and

asked what he was doing. "What does it look like I'm doing?" the

worker said. "I'm nailing this cheap plywood to the floor. Look, I

don't have time to chew the fat with you - this two-bit company pays

me on a piecework basis. So the sooner I get this junk nailed down,

the sooner I can move on to the next piece of junk and maybe make a

few bucks today."

The executive then approached a mason and asked him what he was

doing. "I'm mixing mortar that is going to tenderly and devotedly

hold each of these bricks in place. And one by one, I'm going to set

these bricks until they begin to take shape. They will rise row by

row toward the heavens and eventually form a tall tower - the tower of

a court building. It will stand for years and years as a symbol of

truth and justice. This edifice will stand as a beacon, representing

all that is right in America."

"You idiot!" the executive bellowed. "This is suppose to be a

garage!"

- {Gene Perret's Funny Business}