23 Sermon Illustrations on Ministry

How many times have I heard a fellow Christian say, "Oh, you mean you teach a class of little kids? Oh, you poor thing. You are a glutton for punishment." My mental reaction to such a statement is, "YOU poor thing. If you have never tried it, you don't know the wealth of blessing your are missing." Poor thing, indeed! There are few moments so precious as seeing the dancing eyes of a little child as he sees the big fish (made up of a bleach bottle) literally swallow up Jonah (a puppet), and then to see relief come and his whole body relax and settle against his chair when he sees that "God took care of Jonah and He will take care of me, too, if I obey Him." Or, the excited voice of a little one tugging at Mother or Daddy to "come to see the 10 lepers that Jesus made well." Me a poor thing? When I hear from three rows back the loud whisper, "Mommy, that's my teacher." Or when I receive the most moving, most enjoyable, most blessing-filled hour of the week, no, I wouldn't trade all that for a comfortable chair in a quiet adult classroom. Who knows, that Bible class I teach may lead someone to heaven who otherwise might not have known the way. Sorry friend, that poor thing isn't me! The Fate of a Poem-Saved by a Downdraft! Frances Ridley Havergal wrote one of her most famous poems while she was in Dusseldorf, Germany. She had gone to Germany to do some specialized study. While there, she saw a copy of Sternburg's great painting: The Crucifixion. The title above the picture was, "All this I did for thee; what hast thou done for Me?" Inspired by the probing question, she wrote her famous poem, "I Gave My Life for Thee." But she was not happy with the poem at the time, so she threw it into the fire. But there came a strong downdraft which blew the paper out of the fire and onto the hearth. Feeling that this might have been providential, Miss Havergal took the slightly scorched paper, folded it, and sent it to her father in England. He composed a tune to match the words and had it published. However, the tune we now use with this superb poem was written years later by P. P. Bliss, an associate of D. L. Moody. The tune he wrote is now the one we use with this great song: "I Gave My Life for Thee, What Hast Thou Done for Me?"

Philip Melanethon, the beloved companion of Luther, speaking of his own ministerial experience, says that he went forth full of high expectation, but returned sadly convinced that old Satan was stronger than young Philip; and his experience foreshadowed that of many another preacher of righteousness in each succeeding generation.

Luther used to say, the three requisites to make a minister are prayer, meditation, and temptation. Truth and sympathy are the soul of an effective minister. Faith is the mainspring of a minister. — Cecil. — The great secret lies in these three things, — Christ, immortal souls, self-humiliation. — Bp. Wilson. — They who begin by effect without labor will end by labor without effect. — Lord Jeffrey. — A divine ought to calculate his sermon, as an astronomer does his almanac, to the meridian of the place and people where he lives. — Palmer.

Gospel ministers should not only be like dials on watches, or mile-stones upon the road, but like clocks and lardums, to sound the alarm to sinners. Aaron wore bells as well as pomegranates; and the prophets were commanded to lift up their voice like a trumpet. A sleeping sentinel may be the loss of the city.

— Bp. Hall

In 1662, the town of Eastham agreed that a part of every whale cast on shore be appropriated for the support of the ministry. The ministers must have sat on the cliffs in every storm, and watched the shore with anxiety. And, for my part, if I were a minister, I would rather trust to the bowels of the billows to cast up a whale for me than to the generosity of many a country parish that I know. Thoreau.

St Francis, founder of the order of Franciscans hesitated long between the contemplative and the active religious life. He and his disciples were men quite unlearned. He wished to per made others to follow, like himself, the way of salvation; but he knew not how to set about it. He consulted his brethren what he should do. "God," said he, "has given me the gift of prayers, but not the gift of words; yet as the Son of man, when he was upon earth, not only redeemed men by his blood, but instructed them by his words, ought we not to follow his divine example?" And, in his great humility, he requested not only of his brethren, but also of Clara and her sisterhood, that they would pray for him that a sign might be given what he should do. The answer was to all the same, "Go preach the gospel to every creature." And, when he preached, such eloquence was given to him from above, that none could resist his words; and the most learned theologians remained silent and astonished in his presence. Mrs. Jameson.

A soldier had his limb amputated near his body. The veins had been taken up, and he seemed to be doing well. Suddenly, in dressing his wounds, blood began to flow. The nurse placed his thumb on the vein, and sent for a physician, who, on entering his room, said, "It is well, my brave fellow, that this is not a large artery. I can take this up." Soon, however, the blood flowed more freely than before: the nurse placed his thumb upon the large artery, and sent for the physician. Examination showed that to remove the thumb was death; and so the brave soldier began to make preparations for death. Three hours were spent in sending messages to loved ones, and arranging his effects. Then he said, "Now, kind nurse, you can take off your thumb. I must go. Farewell." Here came the severe trial of the nurse. How could he lift his finger under such circumstances? The accumulated blood, however, rendered it difficult to hold the artery; so, turning his eyes from the soldier, he lifted his thumb, and in three minutes death had done its work. Such the responsibility the Christian minister feels when he thinks that upon his words may rest the issues of life.

A clergyman in Wales was appointed by an ordaining council to address the people, who had impoverished their former pastor, and were now to receive a new one. He recommended, in his address, that Jacob's ladder be let down from the skies to that Welsh parish, in order that the new minister might "go into heaven on the sabbath evening, after preaching, and remain there all the week: then he would come down so spiritually minded and so full of heaven, that he would preach almost like an angel." Now, the people insisted on having their pastor with them on other days than the sabbath. "That may be," replied the speaker; "but then, if he remain among you, he must have something to eat." The dignity of the angels was not inconsistent with their ascending and descending on a wooden ladder; and one ladder on which our ministering angels may go up to their heavenly studies is, such a material sustenance as will make it unnecessary for them to grovel in the earth.

— Prof. Park

Dr. Hoyle, who wrote under the patronage of Archbishop Usher, mentioning Calvin, says, "What shall I speak of his indefatigable industry, almost beyond the power of nature; which, paralleled with our loitering, will, I fear, exceed all credit! It may be the truest object of admiration, how one lean, worn, spent, and wearied body could hold out. He read, every week of the year through, three divinity lectures; every other week, over and above, he preached every day: so that (as Erasmus said of Chrysostom) I know not whether more to admire his constancy, or theirs that heard him. Some have reckoned his yearly lectures to be one hundred and eighty-six, and his yearly sermons two hundred and eighty-six. Every Thursday he sat in the presbytery. Every Friday, when the ministers met to consult upon difficult texts, he made as good as a lecture. Besides all this, there was scarcely a day that exercised him not in answering, either by word of mouth or writing, the doubts and questions of different churches and pastors; so that he might say with Paul, 'The care of all the churches lieth upon me.' Scarcely a year passed wherein, over and above all these employments, some great volume, in folio, or other size, came not forth."

This celebrated man, even in his dying illness, would not refrain from his labors; but, when his friends endeavored to persuade him to ease himself, he replied, "What! shall my Lord come and find me idle?"

An aged American minister states, that in the early part of his ministry, being in London, he called on the late Rev. Matthew Wilks. Mr. W. received him with courtesy, and entered into conversation, which was kept up briskly till the most important religious intelligence in possession of each had been imparted. Suddenly there was a pause—it was broken by Mr. W. "Have you any thing more to communicate?" "No, nothing of special interest." "Any further inquiries to make?" "None." "Then you must leave me; I have my Master's business to attend to—good morning." "Here," says the minister, "I received a lesson on the impropriety of intrusion, and on the most manly method of preventing it."

Mr. Fletcher accepted the living of Madely in preference to another of more than double the value, which was offered him about the same time; his previous intercourse with the people having excited within him an affection which would not suffer him to be separated from them, and which remained unabated till his death. The circumstances connected with his appointment were remarkable and characteristic. One day Mr. Hill informed him that the living of Dunham, in Cheshire, then vacant, was at his service. "The parish," he continued, "is small, the duty light, the income good, (£400 per annum,) and it is situated in a fine healthy sporting country." After thanking Mr. Hill most cordially for his kindness, Mr. Fletcher added, "Alas! sir, Dunham will not suit me: there is too much money and too little labor." "Few clergymen make such objections," said Mr. Hill; "it is a pity to decline such a living, as I do not know that I can find you another. What shall we do? Would you like Madely?" "That, sir, would be the very place for me." "My object, Mr. Fletcher," rejoined Mr. Hill, "is to make you comfortable in your own way. If you prefer Madely, I shall find no difficulty in persuading the present vicar to exchange it for Dunham, which is worth more than twice as much." In this way he became vicar of Madely, with which he was so perfectly satisfied, that he never afterwards sought honor or preferment.

A young preacher stated, one day, to the late Mr. Drew, that he had received an anonymous letter, complaining of his pulpit oratory. Mr. Drew said to him, "Do not heed it, any further than to profit by its observations, if true. I have had scores of such letters since I became an author, and often with postage to pay. They never trouble me, and I generally put them into the fire. But these letters are sometimes of use. Our good qualities we may learn from our friends; from our enemies we may chance to discover our defects."