Preaching in Christian ministry involves proclaiming the gospel with clarity, compassion, and spiritual power to convict, transform, and nourish the hearts of listeners (Romans 10:14). Illustrations often use images of broken hearts, simple nourishment, and the preacher’s spiritual vitality to highlight the need for humility, prayer, and heartfelt study in delivering life-changing messages (2 Timothy 4:2).
Preaching Christ plainly reaches the godly more than scholarly sermons do.
Bernard preaching one day very scholastically, the learned thanked him, but not the godly. But the next day he preached plainly: the good people came blessing God for him, and gave him many thanks; which some scholars wondered at. "Ah!" said he: "yesterday I preached Bernard; but to-day I preached Christ."
Saint Francis preached to birds, showing care for all God's creatures.
Francis, drawing nigh to Bevagno, came to a certain place where birds of different kinds were gathered together; whom seeing, the man of God ran hastily to the spot, and, saluting them as if they had been his fellows in reason (while they all turned and bent their heads in attentive expectation), he admonished them, saying, "Brother birds, greatly are ye bound to praise the Creator, who clotheth you with feathers, and giveth you wings to fly with, and a purer air to breathe, and who careth for you who have so little care for yourselves." Whilst he thus spake, the little birds, marvellously conmoved, began to spread their wings, stretch forth their necks, and open their beaks, attentively gazing upon him; and he, glowing in the spirit, passed through the midst of them, and even touched them with his robe; yet not one stirred from his place until the man of God gave them leave; when, with his blessing and at the sign of the cross, they all flew away. These things saw his companions, who waited for him on the road; to whom returning, the simple and pure-minded man began greatly to blame himself for having never hitherto preached to the birds.
Preaching often receives little pay but remains a valued calling.
An Indian, being asked what he did for a living, replied, "Oh! me preach." — "Preach!" said a bystander: "what do you get paid for preaching?" — "Sometimes me get shillin', sometimes two shillin'." — "And isn't that mighty poor pay?" — "Oh, yes! but it's mighty poor preach."
Preaching must address people’s needs and be accessible, not lofty or abstract.
In addressing the multitude, we must remember to follow the advice that Cromwell gave his soldiers, "Fire low." If our eloquence be directed above the heads of our hearers, we shall do no execution. By pointing our arguments low, we can stand a chance of hitting their hearts as well as their heads. In addressing angels, we could hardly raise our eloquence too high; but we must remember that men are not angels. Would we warn them by our eloquence, unlike Mahomet's mountain, it must come down to them, since they cannot raise themselves to it. It must come home to their wants and their wishes, to their hopes and their fears. Lacon.
Many preachers speak of real things as if they were imaginary, losing impact.
The Archbishop of Canterbury said one day to Garrick, "Pray inform me how it is that you gentlemen of the stage can affect your auditory with things imaginary as if they were real, while we of the church speak of things real, which many of our congregation receive as things imaginary." — "Why," replied Garrick, "the reason is plain. We actors speak of things imaginary as if they were real; while too many in the pulpit speak of things real as if they were imaginary."
Preachers must bring heart and consistent lives to their ministry for effectiveness.
An old writer says, "If we would preach to purpose, we must bring our hearts as well as our heads into the pulpit, and our lives must be consistent with our doctrines. It is said of Aneas Sylvius, afterwards pope Pius Secundus, that what Sylvius did, Pius undid."
Learning to preach requires practical experience, like learning to swim by swimming.
When a young painter inquired of the celebrated Gilbert Stuart, how young persons should be taught to paint, he replied, "Just as puppies are taught to swim, — chuck them in!" "No one can learn to swim in the sea of extempore speech without going into the waters."
— Bishop McIlvaine
Jesus' name should be central and supreme in all preaching and teaching.
Similes of. There was a shield in which the maker wrought his name, so that it could be effaced only by the destruction of his work; and so should the name of our glorious Immanuel be inwrought through the texture of our instructions, that their very consistency shall be dependent on the diffusion of that one blessed name throughout their length and breadth. On entering the cathedraltowns of England, the towers, or the spire, of the mother-church, or minster, are seen shooting up into the sky, far above all the other buildings, public or private, secular or sacred; and so let Jesus, the church's Lord, King, and Saviour, have the pre-eminence above the whole city of topics and themes, divine and human, which may be meekly grouped around his name; he casting his sanctifying shadow over all. Evangelical Magazine.
Ministers should focus on gathering the fruitful results, not just external appearances.
Myconius, the friend of Luther, after his call to the ministry, dreamed that he entered a field of grain, and was ordered by the proprietor to commence reaping. He did so, but found himself greatly attracted by the straw of the wheat, and wasted much of his time and strength in levelling his sickle close to the ground, so as, if possible, to leave little or no straw behind. He was ambitious to gather the straw as well as the ears. While thus engaged, a voice spoke to him in the Latin tongue: "Domino meo non opus est stramine modo aristae in horrea colligantur,"—"My Master needeth not straw: gather but the ears, and it shall suffice."
Preaching that lacks Scripture and is overly technical fails to spiritually nourish listeners.
A woman went one day to hear a famous doctor of diviuity preach, and, as usual, carried a pocket Bible with her, that she might turn to any of the passages the preacher might happen to refer to. But she found that she had no use for her Bible there; and, coming away, said to a friend. "I should have left my Bible at home to-day, and have brought my dictionary. The doctor does not deal in Scripture, but in such learned words and phrases as require the help of an interpreter to render them intelligible."
Powerful preaching convicts listeners deeply, causing self-examination and fear of judgment.
When Massillon preached at Versailles, Louis XIV. paid the following most expressive tribute to the power of his eloquence. "Father, when I hear others preach, I am very well pleased with them; when I hear you, I am dissatisfied with myself." The first time he preached his sermon on the small number of the elect, the whole audience were, at a certain part of it, seized with such violent emotion, that almost every person half rose from his seat, as if to shake off the horror of being one of the cast-out into everlasting darkness. Percy.
An unconverted preacher can be a clear medium to ignite divine love in hearts.
When Dr. Kane was in the poetic regions, he cut a piece of ice, clear as crystal, in the form of a convex lens, held it up to the sun's rays, and, to the surprise of the natives, set in a blaze some dry wood which had been gathered. So an unconverted preacher may be the medium by which the truth may be brought to other hearts, and kindle them with the holy flame of divine love. "My word shall not return unto me void." Dr. J. B. Haggay.
True preaching may make listeners uncomfortable if the doctrine preached is right.
I remember one of my parishioners at Halesworth telling me, that he thought "a person should not go to church to be made uncomfortable." I replied that I thought so too; but whether it should be the sermon or the man's life that should be altered so as to avoid the discomfort, must depend on whether the doctrine was right or wrong. Abp. Whately.
If a preacher tells truth, repeated preaching is unnecessary; if lies, unwanted.
A Universalist preached to a chance audience, and, at its close, offered to preach again at a future day; when an old Friend arose, and said, "If thou hast told the truth this time, we do not need thee any more; and, if thou hast told us a lie, we do not want thee any more."
Different preachers reveal different aspects: God's majesty, Christ's loveliness, or the human heart.
An English merchant, visiting Scotland in 1650, and being asked, on his return, what he had heard, answered, "Rare things. I went to St. Andrew's, where I heard a majestic-looking man (Blair); and he showed me the majesty of God. After him, I heard a little fair man (Rutherford); and he showed me the loveliness of Christ. I then went to Irvine, where I heard an old man (Dickson); and that man showed me my own heart."
A preacher can exhaust his audience by speaking too long after the sermon is finished.
A Scotch preacher had preached his audience out of the church; when one of the weary ones asked another if the sermon was done yet. The reply was, "His tow's dune lang syne; but he's spinnin' awa' yet."
Proper pulpit manner shows reverence and respect for sacred service.
Dr. Stonehouse used to tell two lessons of elocution which he had one day received from Garrick at the close of the service. "What particular business had you to do to-day when the duty was over?" asked the actor. "None." — "Why," said Garrick, "I thought you must, from the hurry in which you entered the desk. Nothing can be more indecent than to see a clergyman set about sacred service as if he were a tradesman, and wanted to get through it as soon as possible. But what might those books be which you had on the desk before you?" — "Only the Bible and Prayer-Book," replied the preacher. "Only the Bible and Prayer-Book," rejoined the player. "Why, you tossed them about, and turned the leaves as carelessly as if they were a day-book and ledger." And by the reproof of the British Roscius the doctor greatly profited; for, even among the pumproom exquisites, he was admired for the perfect grace and propriety of his pulpit-manner.
— Dr. J. Hamilton
True preaching power and unction come from dependence on Christ's presence.
Bonaventura whence he derived the power and unction which always attended him. Pointing to a crucifix, he replied, "It is that which dictates all my words to me."
Preaching extemporaneously can be more powerful and natural than reading sermons.
Dr. Guyse was blind in the latter part of his life; but he still determined to preach. After the morning-service of the first day, an old lady of his congregation, enraptured with his discourse, followed him into the vestry with much enthusiasm, and exclaimed, "Doctor, I wish you had been blind these twenty years; for you never preached so good a sermon in your life as you have done to-day." The remark was not wholly without foundation; for the doctor had been accustomed to read his sermons; but, when he preached extemporaneously, his delivery was more animated and more natural. Percy.
Repeating good sermons can deepen impact and reach new listeners effectively.
A poor, juiceless sermon should never be preached the first time; but a nutritious, savory discourse may be made all the better on a second delivery. Dr. Addison Alexander preached his glorious sermon on the "Faithful Saying," until he wore out the manuscript; and Dr. Griffin repeated his elaborate discourse on the "Worth of the Soul" ninety times. He never wearied of it; nor did his audience either. His congregations change constantly, and memories are leaky. A first-rate practical sermon ought to be repeated (with extempore improvements) about once in five years. Fewer sermons and richer should be a settled pastor's aim. Whitefield attained great finish and power by giving the same discourse over again through all his missionary tours.
— T. L. Cuyler
Good preachers know when to stop, valuing brevity and patience in preaching.
Luther, in an enumeration of nine qualities of a good preacher, gives as the sixth, that "he should know when to stop." Boyle has an essay on "Patience under Long Preaching." This was never more wanted since the commonwealth than now, in our own day, especially among our young divines and academics, who seem to think that their performances can never be too much attended to. I never err this way myself but my conviction always laments it; and, for many years after I began preaching, I never offended in this way. I never exceeded three-quarters of an hour, at most. I saw one excellency was within my reach, — it was brevity; and I determined to obtain it. W. Jay.
Effective preaching convicts listeners deeply, making them aware of spiritual danger.
SERMONS, Test of "What sort of a sermon do you like?" said Dr. Rush to Robert Morris, one day. "I like, sir," replied Mr. Morris, "that kind of preaching which drives a man into the corner of his pew, and makes him think the Devil is after him."
Good style uses proper words in proper places, revealing the speaker's character.
A sentence well couched takes both the sense and the understanding. — Feltham. — Proper words in proper places make the true definition of style. — Swift. — Style shows the man, whether in speaking or writing.
Christian teachers should speak only what is purposeful and edifying, unlike many who fill time.
It is said of Pericles the Athenian orator, that, before he went out to address the people, he prayed to the gods that nothing might go out of his mouth but what might be to the purpose. What an example does this heathen set for the Christian preacher and teacher! How much is uttered by these public instructors, which, as far as any one can see, is to no purpose whatever, except to fill up the hour!
— Bib. Treasury
Preacher’s bold sermon exposes a thief by provoking his guilty conscience in church.
The celebrated itinerant preacher, Lorenzo Dow, while travelling on Sunday to the place where he had an appointment to preach, in passing a house overheard a man who was standing at the door, swearing bitterly. Dow went up to him, and inquired the cause. The man answered that he had an axe stolen the night before by some person. "Come along with me to the meeting," said the preacher, "and I will find your axe." The man consented, and when they arrived near the church, Dow stopped and picked up a pretty large stone, which he carried with him into church, and laid upon the front of the pulpit. The subject of his sermon was very well fitted to his particular object, and when in the middle of it, he stopped short, took the stone in his hand, and raising it with a threatening attitude, said "A man in this neighborhood had an axe stolen last night, and if the person who stole it doesn't dodge, I will hit him on the forehead with this stone," at the same time making a violent effort to throw it, when a person present was observed to dodge his head violently; and it scarce need be added, proved to be the guilty person!
People naturally prefer preachers who have received proper education and training.
The spontaneous preference which all persons, free from prejudice, are ready to yield, other things being equal, to a preacher who has had the advantages of education, may be illustrated by the following incident:—
In the vicinity of one of our literary institutions, where several young Bap-
### 152. EDUCATION
Earnestness and affection in preaching show the Spirit's presence more than mere style.
Some years ago, three American ministers went to preach to the Cherokee Indians. One preached very deliberately and coolly; and the chiefs held a council to know whether the Great Spirit spoke to them through that man; and they declared he did not, because he was not so much engaged as their head men were in their national concerns. Another spoke to them in a most vehement manner; and they again determined in council that the Great Spirit did not speak to them through that man, because he was mad. The third preached to them in an earnest and fervent manner; and they agreed that the Great Spirit might speak to them through him, because he was both earnest and affectionate. The last was ever after kindly received.
The same story told with passion can deeply move listeners compared to a flat delivery.
The late Dr. Lathrop, of West Springfield, Mass., related to Mr. Whitefield a fact which the Dr. had personally witnessed; and he related it without much feeling. The same day Mr. Whitefield introduced the story into his sermon, and Dr. Lathrop as he heard it found himself drowned in tears.
Powerful preaching can create a profound sense of conviction and hope for sinners.
The Rev. Dr. Staughton, of Philadelphia, was remarkable for the energy of his delivery, and for the originality of many of his remarks. On one occasion, he was preaching from the words, "God be merciful to me a sinner." His soul kindled, as he proceeded, with intense ardor for the salvation of his assembly. He presented, in a strain of vivid and powerful eloquence, the joy of the angelic hosts on the repentance of one sinner. Perfect silence reigned through the vast audience. There was a moment's pause, and it was obvious, from his countenance and his attitude, that his mind was preparing for some powerful and overwhelming flood of feeling. He proceeded: "Shall I retire with the desponding reflection, that, in all this congregation, there is not one soul humbled before God? Shall angels prepare their wings for flight, and the voice of contrition be unheard? It cannot be. I will cherish the hope that there is, at least, one sinner here whose heart is melted down before the Lord, and trembling at the prospect of future retribution; that there is, even now, one whose agony is on the point of extorting from his lips the cry of the publican." Suddenly throwing up his arm, with a voice full, loud, and rapid, he exclaimed, "Hark!" The effect it is impossible to describe. His arm remained for a time elevated, during which the most awful stillness reigned, interrupted only by an apparently delicate and indescribable breathing, that seemed to pass over the congregation, midway in the edifice. Then, with a grace and energy peculiar to himself, he brought down his hand upon his breast, and repeated the prayer, "God be merciful to me a sinner." The feelings of the assembly were wrought to the highest point, and some time elapsed before they were enabled to breathe freely.
Massillon's preaching stirred deep emotion and self-examination among his listeners.
When Massillon preached the first Advent sermon at Marseilles, Louis the XIVth paid a most expressive tribute to his eloquence:—"Father, when I hear others preach, I am very well pleased with them; when I hear you, I am dissatisfied with myself."
The first time this great preacher delivered his sermon on the small number of the elect, the whole audience were, in one part of it, in so violent a state of emotion, that almost every person half rose from his seat, as if to shake off the horror of being one of those that would be cast out into everlasting darkness. So remarkably were all his strokes aimed at the heart.
When Baron, the actor, came from hearing one of Massillon's sermons, he said to a person of the same profession, who accompanied him, "Here is an orator; we are only actors."
Different preachers produce vastly different effects on their audiences' attention and behavior.
The different effects produced by pulpit eloquence are well described by the following anecdote of two French preachers. Le Pere Arrius said, "When Le Pere Bourdaloue preached at Rouen, the tradesmen forsook their shops, lawyers their clients, physicians their sick, and tavern-keepers their bars; but, when I preached the following year, I set all thing to rights—every man minded his own business!"
Preaching with genuine faith impacts listeners more than eloquence without conviction.
The eminence of the Rev. Mr. Brown, of Haddington, both as a preacher and a writer, is well known. On a public occasion, where a man who professed the principles of infidelity was present, two sermons were delivered: the first of them by an ambitious young man, who delivered a very eloquent and florid address; Mr. Brown followed, in one equally remarkable for its simplicity and earnestness. "The first preacher," said the skeptic to one of his friends, "spoke as if he did not believe what he said; the latter, as if he was conscious that the Son of God stood at his elbow."
Whitefield's preaching powerfully moved people to give generously during collections.
In a company of noblemen and gentlemen, at breakfast, Mr. Whitefield having become the subject of conversation, one of the company asked the Rev. John Newton, who was present, if he knew Mr. Whitefield. He answered in the affirmative, and observed, that as a preacher, Mr. Whitefield far exceeded every other man of his time. Mr. Newton added, "I bless God that I lived in his time; many were the winter mornings I got up at four, to attend his tabernacle discourses at five; and I have seen Moorfields as full of lanterns at these times, as I suppose the Maymarket is full of flambeaux on an opera night." As a proof of the power of Mr. W.'s preaching, Mr. Newton mentioned, that an officer at Glasgow, who had heard him preach, laid a wager with another, that at a certain charity sermon, though he went with prejudice, he would be compelled to give something; the other to make sure that he would not, laid all the money out of his pockets; but, before he left the church, he was glad to borrow some, and lose his bet. Mr. Newton mentioned, as another striking example of Mr. Whitefield's persuasive oratory, his collecting at one sermon £600 for the inhabitants of an obscure village in Germany, that had been burned down. After sermon, Mr. Whitefield said, We shall sing a hymn, during which those who do not choose to give their mite on this awful occasion, may sneak off." Not one moved; he got down from the pulpit, ordered all the doors to be shut but one, at which he held the plate himself, and collected the above large sum. Mr. Newton related what he knew to be a fact, that at the time of Whitefield's greatest persecution, when obliged to preach in the streets, in one week he received not fewer than a thousand letters from persons distressed in their consciences by the energy of his preaching.
Even an infidel admired Whitefield's passionate preaching and its convicting power.
An extraordinary attestation to the excellence of Mr. Whitefield, as a preacher, was furnished by Hume, the historian, well known for his infidelity. An intimate friend having asked him what he thought of Mr. Whitefield's preaching, "He is, sir," said Mr. Hume, "the most ingenious preacher I ever heard: it is worth while to go twenty miles to hear him." He then repeated the following passage, which occurred towards the close of the discourse he had been hearing: "After a solemn pause, Mr. Whitefield thus addressed his numerous audience:— 'The attendant angel is just about to leave the threshold, and ascend to heaven. And shall he ascend, and not bear with him the news of one sinner, among all this multitude, reclaimed from the error of his ways?' To give the greater effect to this exclamation, he stamped with his foot, lifted up his eyes and hands to heaven, and with gushing tears, cried aloud, 'Stop, Gabriel! Stop, Gabriel! Stop, ere you enter the sacred portals, and yet carry with you the news of one sinner converted to God.' He then, in the most simple, but energetic language, described what he called a Savior's dying love to sinful man, so that almost the whole assembly melted into tears. This address was accompanied with such animated, yet natural action, that it surpassed any thing I ever saw or heard in any other preacher."
Happy had it been for Mr. Hume, if, in addition to his admiration of the preacher, he had received the doctrine which he taught, and afforded an instance of that conversion to God which Mr. Whitefield so ardently longed for on behalf of his hearers.
Whitefield's eloquence softened a skeptic to give generously, including gold.
The following anecdote, related by Dr. Franklin, which is equally characteristic of the preacher and himself, further illustrates the power of Mr. Whitefield's eloquence:—"I happened," says the doctor, "to attend one of his sermons, in the course of which I perceived he intended to finish with a collection, and I silently resolved he should get nothing from me. I had in my pocket a handful of copper money, three or four silver dollars, and five pistoles in gold. As he proceeded, I began to soften, and concluded to give the copper. Another stroke of his oratory made me ashamed of that, and determined me to give the silver; and he finished so admirably, that I emptied my pocket wholly into the collector's dish,—gold and all. At this sermon there was also one of our club; who, being of my sentiments respecting the building in Georgia, and suspecting a collection might be intended, had, by precaution, emptied his pockets before he came from home. Towards the conclusion of the discourse, however, he felt a strong inclination to give, and applied to a neighbor, who stood near him, to lend him some money for the purpose. The request was made to, perhaps, the only man in the company who had the coldness not to be affected by the preacher. His answer was, "At any other time, friend Hodgkinson, I would lend to thee freely; but not now, for thee seems to be out of thy right senses."
A blind minister's passionate sermon vividly portrayed Christ's passion and mercy.
"I was one Sunday travelling through the county of Orange, on the eastern side of the Blue Ridge," says Wirt, in his British Spy, "when my eye was caught by a cluster of horses tied near a ruinous wooden house, in the forest, not far from the roadside. Having frequently seen such objects before, I had no difficulty in understanding that this was a place of religious worship. Curiosity to hear the preacher of such a wilderness induced me to join the congregation. On my entrance, I was struck with his supernatural appearance. He was a tall and very spare old man; his head, which was covered with a white linen cap, his shrivelled hands, and his voice, were all shaking under the influence of palsy; and a few moments ascertained to me that he was perfectly blind. It was the day of the sacrament—his subject was the passion of our Savior; and he gave it a new and more sublime pathos than I had ever before witnessed. When he descended from the pulpit to distribute the mystic symbols, there was a peculiar, a more than human solemnity in his voice and manner, which made my blood run cold, and my whole frame shiver. His peculiar phrases had that force of description, that the original scene seemed acting before our eyes. We saw the very faces of the Jews; the staring, frightful distortions of malice and of rage. But when he came to touch on the patience, one forgiving meekness of our Savior; when he drew to the life his blessed eyes streaming with tears, his voice breathing to God the gentle prayer, 'Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,'—the voice of the preacher, which had all along faltered, grew fainter and fainter, until his voice being entirely obstructed by the force of his feelings, he raised his handkerchief to his eyes, and burst into a loud and irrepressible flood of grief. The effect was inconceivable. The whole house resounded with mingled groans, and sobs, and shrieks. I could not imagine how the speaker could let his audience down from the height to which he had wound them, without impairing the solemnity of his subject, or shocking them by the
# ENEMIES.
# 154. Nature of Love to Enemies.
A solemn sermon on anathema deeply convicts and moves an elderly congregation to repentance.
FIVE YEARS.—About the middle of the seventeenth century, the venerable John Flavel, whose excellent practical writings are known to many of our readers, was settled at Dartmouth, where his labors were greatly blessed.
Mr. Flavel’s manner was remarkably affectionate and serious, often exciting very powerful emotions in his hearers. On one occasion, he preached from these words:—“If any man love not the Lord Jesus Christ, let him be anathema, maranatha.” The discourse was unusually solemn, particularly the explanation of the words *anathema*, *maranatha*,—“cursed with a curse, cursed of God, with a bitter and grievous curse.” At the conclusion of the service, when Mr. Flavel arose to pronounce the benediction, he paused, and said, “How shall I bless this whole assembly, when every person in it, who loveth not the Lord Jesus Christ, is anathema, maranatha?” The solemnity of this address deeply affected the 223. 224
INFLUENCE AFTER DEATH.
boring and praying with his neighbors, and inviting them to attend religious worship on the Sabbath. "When converted, one of his first acts, although he had heard nothing of any such act in others, was to make out a list of all his old associates then living within reach of his influence. For the conversion of these he determined to labor as he had opportunity, and pray daily. On his list were one hundred and sixteen names, among whom were skeptics, drunkards, and other individuals as little likely to be reached by Christian influence as any other men in the region. Within two years from the period of the old man's conversion, one hundred of these individuals had made a profession of religion. This account is not exaggerated; the old man is living, and there are a thousand living witnesses to this testimony."
## AFTER DEATH.
audience, and one gentleman, a person of rank, was so overcome by his feelings, that he fell senseless to the floor.
In the congregation was a lad named Luke Short, then about fifteen years old, and a native of Dartmouth. Shortly after the event just narrated, he entered into the seafaring line, and sailed to America, where he passed the rest of his life.
Mr. Short's life was lengthened much beyond the usual term. When a hundred years old, he had sufficient strength to work on his farm, and his mental faculties were very little impaired. Hitherto he had lived in carelessness and sin; he was now a "sinner a hundred years old," and apparently ready to "die accursed." But one day, as he sat in his field, he busied himself in reflecting on his past life. Recurring to the events of his youth, his memory fixed upon Mr. Flavel's discourse above alluded to, a considerable part of which he was able to recollect. The affectionate earnestness of the preacher's manner, the important truths which he delivered, and the effects produced on the congregation, were brought fresh to his mind. The blessing of God accompanied his meditations; he felt that he had not "loved the Lord Jesus Christ;" he feared the dreadful "anathema;" conviction was followed by repentance, and at length this aged sinner obtained peace through the blood of atonement, and was found "in the way of righteousness." He joined the Congregational church in Middleborough, and to the day of his death, which took place in his 116th year, gave pleasing evidence of piety.
In this case, eighty-five years passed away after the seed was sown, before it sprang up and brought forth fruit. Let the ministers of Christ be encouraged; "in due season they shall reap, if they faint not."
Luther preached simply and powerfully to reach common people, like a mother feeding her infant.
On one occasion, during the sixteenth century, the principal reformers having been called together, several of them preached. Luther, though unwell, preached with much energy, from the words, "Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature." Myconius wrote to a friend, that he had often heard Luther preach, but on this occasion he seemed not so much to speak, as to thunder forth the name of Christ from heaven itself. After Bucer's sermon, he supped with Luther, who, in the course of conversation, commended the discourse of his guest; but added that he himself was a better preacher. Bucer received this apparently rude remark with his accustomed mildness, and readily declared his assent. Luther then spoke seriously, and said, "Do not think that I mean to boast foolishly; I well know my own deficiencies, and that I am unable to deliver such an ingenious and learned discourse as we have this day heard from you; but, when I am in the pulpit, I consider who my hearers are: and because the greater part are an unlearned and simple people, I preach what I think they can understand. But you take a higher flight, so that your discourses suit learned people, but are not understood by our poor people. In this I act like a kind mother who gives her craving infant the breast, thus feeding it with her own milk as well as she is able, and thinks this better for its nourishment than if mixed with the sweetest and choicest syrups and preparations of art."
Massillon contrasted the world's values with the gospel's blessing on those who mourn.
The eloquence of the celebrated Massillon shone conspicuously in the introduction of a sermon before Louis XIV, king of France, from the words of the Redeemer, Matt. v. 4: "Blessed are they that mourn." The preacher began, "If the world addressed your majesty from this place, the world would not say, 'Blessed are they that mourn.' The world would say, 'Blessed is the prince who has never fought, but to conquer; who has filled the universe with his name; who through the whole course of a long and flourishing reign, enjoys in splendor all that men admire—extent of conquest, the esteem of his enemies, the love of his people, the wisdom of his laws.' But, sire, the language of the gospel is not the language of the world."
Whitefield's personal preaching sometimes brought conviction and assurance of forgiveness to individuals.
It is a charge often brought against some faithful ministers, that they direct many of their remarks to certain particular persons. It is certain that this was often done by Mr. Whitefield, and sometimes with very happy effect. He once drew from the conduct of his female servant the picture of a Christian remiss in duty, which painfully distressed her, till he gave her an assurance of his entire forgiveness.
A minister chooses to preach on eternity rather than current events, emphasizing eternal focus.
In 1648, it was a question asked of the brethren, at the meetings of ministers, twice in the year, "If they preached the duties of the times?" And when it was found that Leighton did not, he was reproved for his omission; but he replied, "If all the brethren have preached on the times, may not one poor brother be suffered to preach on eternity?"
A witty critique shows humility by pointing out a conceited minister's sermon flaw.
A conceited minister having once delivered a sermon in the hearing of Mr. Hall, pressed him, with a disgusting union of self-complacency and indelicacy, to state what he thought of the sermon. Mr. Hall remained silent for some time, hoping that his silence would be rightly interpreted; but this only caused the question to be pressed with greater earnestness. Mr. Hall at length said, "There was one very fine passage, sir." "I am rejoiced to hear you say so. Pray, sir, which was it?" "Why, sir, it was the passage from the pulpit into the vestry."
John Newton humorously rebukes a minister for neglecting practical care for his congregation.
The excellent John Newton was faithful and ingenious in administering reproof. He one day heard a minister preach, who affected great accuracy in his discourses, and who occupied nearly an hour on several labored and nice distinctions. Having a high esteem for Mr. Newton's judgment, he inquired of him whether he thought these distinctions were full and judicious. Mr. Newton said, he thought them not full, as a very important one had been omitted. "What can that be?" said the minister; "for I have taken more than ordinary care to enumerate them fully." "I think not," replied Mr. N., "for when many of your congregation had traveled several miles for a meal, I think you should not have forgotten the important distinction which must ever exist between meat and bones."
A minister compares spiritual truths to music, lamenting others' insensitivity to both.
A musical amateur of eminence, who had often observed the Hon. and Rev. Mr. Cadogan's inattention to his performances, said to him one day, "Come, I am determined to make you feel the force of music,—pay particular attention to this piece." It accordingly was played. "Well, what do you say now?" "Why, just what I said before." "What! can you hear this and not be charmed? Well, I am quite surprised at your insensibility. Where are your ears?" "Bear with me, my lord," replied Mr. Cadogan, "since I too have had my surprise; I have often from the pulpit set before you the most striking and affecting truths; I have sounded notes that might have raised the dead; I have said, Surely he will feel now; but you never seemed to be charmed with my music, though infinitely more interesting than yours. I too have been ready to say with astonishment, Where are his ears?"
A minister disarms opposition by honestly admitting his preaching weaknesses.
Rev. John Brown, of Haddington, was invited to become pastor there, soon after he was licensed to preach. Only one man prevented the call from being unanimous. Being a person possessed of considerable influence, it was greatly feared that he would exert that influence to the injury of the minister and the church. Mr. Brown meeting with this gentleman one day, took him by the hand, and begged him frankly to state his reasons for voting against him. "I am as frank as you are, Mr. Brown," replied he, "and I beg leave to say that my reason for voting against you is a strong one; and it can be told in a word, I don't think you are a good preacher." "There we are perfectly agreed," replied Mr. Brown; "I know it as well as you do, my friend, and I say it as frankly as you do, that I am not a good preacher. But then," continued Mr. Brown, as he shook his neighbor heartily by the hand, "while you and I are perfectly agreed in this particular, where is the use of you and me setting up our opinions against the whole parish?" The man laughed heartily, told Mr. Brown that he had completely disarmed him, that he began to be of his opinion, and that he would not be found opposing the views of the whole parish any longer. He became afterwards Mr. Brown's best friend.
Massillon awakens a dull congregation by comparing their eternal judgment to a great trial.
Massillon, an eminent French preacher, in the first sermon he ever delivered, found, upon his getting into the pulpit, the whole audience in a disposition no way favorable to his intentions; their nods, whispers, or drowsy behavior, showed him that there was no great profit to be expected from his sowing in a soil so barren; however, he soon changed the disposition of the audience by his manner of beginning: "If," said he, "a cause, the most important that could be conceived, were to be tried at the bar before qualified judges; if this cause interested ourselves in particular; if the eyes of the whole kingdom were fixed upon the event; if the most eminent counsel were employed on both sides; and if we had heard from our infancy of this undetermined trial; would you not all sit with due attention and warm expectation to the pleadings on both sides? would not all your hopes and fears be suspended upon the final decision? And yet, let me tell you, you have this moment a cause of much greater importance before you: a cause where not one nation, but all the world are spectators; tried not before a fallible tribunal, but the awful throne of heaven; where not your temporal and transitory interests are the subjects of debate; but your eternal happiness or misery; where the cause is still undetermined; but, perhaps, the very moment I am speaking may fix the irrevocable decree that shall last for ever; and yet, notwithstanding all this, you can hardly sit with patience to hear the tidings of salvation. I plead the cause of Heaven, and yet I am scarcely attended to."
A sermon must be Christ-centered to be truly Christian and effective.
On one occasion it is related of Dr. Mason, of New-York, that after the delivery of a discourse appointed for the day, and which he and others were expected to criticise, he was observed to remain silent much longer than usual for him on similar occasions, apparently absorbed in thought, and hesitating whether to express his opinion of the performance or not. At length he was appealed to by some one, and asked, whether he had any remarks to make. He arose, and said, "I admire the sermon for the beauty of its style—for the splendor of its imagery—for the correctness of its sentiments—and for the point of its arguments; but, sir, it wanted one thing;" and then pausing till the eyes of all were fixed upon him, he added, "It needed to be baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, to entitle it to the name of a CHRISTIAN sermon."
Ministers should preach within their knowledge and not on unfamiliar complex topics.
A young clergyman once called upon Dr. Dwight, and inquired respecting the best method of treating a very difficult and abstruse point in mental philosophy, upon which he was preparing a sermon. "I cannot give you any information upon the subject," the doctor replied; "I am not familiar with such topics. I leave them for young men."
A preacher lamented wasted effort preaching while spiritual ruin occurred around him.
BED ESTIMATE.—A celebrated Irish preacher, distinguished for the eloquence of his pulpit preparations, is said to have exclaimed on his death-bed, "Speak not to me of my sermons; alas! I was fiddling whilst Rome was burning."
Preaching should focus on the gospel, not politics or worldly matters.
The Abbé — preached a fast-day sermon before Louis the Sixteenth, which contained a great deal of politics, finance, and government, and very little of the gospel. "It is a pity," said the king, as he came out of the church; "if the abbé had only touched a little on religion, he would have told us of every thing."
Everything we make is available for free because of a generous community of supporters.
Donate