446 Sermon Illustrations on Sin

Vietnam . "Imagine killing 55 million rats in a year -- and still losing ground," says The Associated Press. "Vietnam's vermin plague has gotten so bad that the central government has banned exports of traditional rat predators and closed restaurants that specialize in serving up cats or snakes." It is harder to get rid of sin then it is to get rid of rats ...

I experienced this first-hand a number of years ago. I went to my garden to pick some tomatoes and cucumbers. I was less than happy when I saw what someone had done: they ripped tomatoes off the plants, threw them around and smashed them into pulp. I saw tracks and the imprints of little shoes leading to a neighbor's house. I knocked at the door, explained what happened, and asked the mother who answered the door to question her children. A couple of minutes later my door-bell rang. Two white-faced boys stood trembling on my door-step. I invited them in. "We did it," they said. "We didn't mean to and we don't know why." Well I knew why. They wrecked my tomatoes because they were conceived and born in sin. Because sin lives in them they did something bad. By the way, after they confessed their deed they volunteered to work for me.

NORTH CHICAGO -- Prosecutors say a father poured sulphuric acid down the throat of his infant son, and then he put sluphuric acid in a can of baby formula, and then he conspired with the mother to blame the manufacturer of the baby formula, hoping for a large cash settlement. The baby boy, after 27 months, his throat and insides irreparably burned, died. (Associated Press 5-8-90)

Why is it if we are all so well-educated and brilliant and gifted and artistic and idealistic and distinuguished, that we are so selfish and schecming and dishonest and begrudging and impatient and arrogant and disrespectful of others? Why is it if our civilization is so advanced that we have the world's biggest prison population? Might the reason be sin? Of course it is!

The typographical error is a slippery thing and sly,

You can hunt till you are dizzy, but somehow it will get by.

Till the forms are off the presses, it is strange how still it keeps;

It shrinks down in a corner, and never stirs or peeps -- The typographical error too small for human eyes,

Till the ink is on the paper, when it grows to mountain size.

The boss just stares with horror, then he grabs his hair and groans,

The copy reader drops his head upon his hands and moans.

The remainder of the issue may be clean as clean can be,

But that typographical error is the only thing you see.

Even thus, one sin can spoil an entire lifetime of Christian witnessing, and unless it is corrected through repentance and grace it will keep that fallen soul from entering the Holy City.

One of life's great treats is pumpkin pie with some Cool Whip on it. That's what I was after when I went to my son's refrigerator. I had cut my piece of pie - all it was missing was that little white topping of Cool Whip. So I foraged around in the fridge until I saw that familiar plastic container with a picture of what I wanted my pumpkin pie to look like. Somewhat mindlessly, I opened that container, stuck my spoon in, and pulled out the contents. I was just about to decorate my pie with it when I looked at what was on my spoon - not Cool Whip - gravy. Which won't do much for pumpkin pie.

Well, I'm Ron Hutchcraft, and I want to have A Word With You today about “When the Container Lies to You.”

The container promised me one thing - but what was inside was very different. That's an experience every one of us has had - when we reached for something based on what it was supposed to give us, only to be disappointed when we found out what was really inside. That deception is, in fact, the very nature of sin, and it's why we end up with scars and messes we never knew were going to be a part of.

In fact, you may be looking at a temptation right now - or even giving into it - a temptation that looks promising on the outside. But God is sending you a warning right now to let you know the heartache and hurt that's on the inside. Sin conceals its ugliness and it destruction until you've already bitten the apple.

The temptation that looks good to you right now may say “pleasure” on the container - do this because it will feel good. Or maybe the package says “love” - do this and you'll get some love. The promise may be “relief” - a chance to escape from some hurt ... or maybe it says “significance” - do this and you'll get ahead, you'll feel important.

But God believes in “truth-in-packaging.” He clearly reveals what sin really offers in James 1:15, our word for today from the Word of God. “After desire has conceived” - that's the part where the container really looks inviting - “it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death.” That, of course, is not on the container. First, sin fascinates you - then it assassinates you. It kills your self-respect ... it kills people's trust in you ... it kills your close relationships ... it kills your freedom ... it kills your closeness to God. Short benefit, long consequences. A sinful way to get something you need or want is never worth it and ultimately never delivers.

It's a prison that looks like a penthouse on the outside. You don't know that you're hooked until the cell door slams behind you. The thrill of sin lasts a short time; the bill for sin lasts a long time. There's a little good stuff and a lot of guilt; a rush that's brief and wreckage that can last a lifetime.

Don't fall for those lies on sin's package. Check its real contents, as exposed graphically in the Bible. If you've already opened sin's package, get out while you can. If you're looking at a compromise that God calls sin, run the other way. You haven't got time for the pain, for the scars, for the slavery, for the shame. Do it God's way, even if it's harder, even if it takes longer. Remember, it's the narrow road that leads to life ... it's the wide road that leads to destruction (Matthew 7:13-14).

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Copyright © Ron Hutchcraft Ministries, Inc., PO Box 400, Harrison, AR 72602. Used by permission. Written by Ron Hutchcraft. "Practical Answers to Real Life Issues"

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[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #6135]

One afternoon the members of a health club assembled for a meeting

on nutrition and exercise. The dietitian leading the discussion asked

each member in turn to describe his or her daily routine. The first

participant admitted to a number of excesses, including overeating.

Others joined in agreement. But one seriously overweight member

reported, "I eat healthfully and moderately, I drink moderately and I

exercise frequently."

"I see," said the dietitian. "Are you sure you have nothing else

to tell us?"

"Well, yes," said the man. "I also lie extensively."

That comment probably brought some laughter, but it underlines an

important truth: what we do in secret will become evident in public.

An aged minister fancied that he had committed the unpardonable

sin. At last, after much conflict, he submitted to what he mistakenly

considered was the will of God for him to be lost. Then something

within him whispered: "Suppose there is a hell for you, what would

you, with your disposition and habits, do there?" The quick answer

was: "I would set up a prayer meeting." With the words came the light

of God to show him the absurdity of it all. The fact one fears that he

has committed this sin is the sure proof he has not. --D. L. Moody

A. C. Cappy from England sent me this incident illustrating Satan's

delaying tactics: "While traveling in Jamaica, a man notices a

curious shrub growing near the roadside. His companion informed him

that the island people called it the 'wait a bit' bush. When he

inspected it closely, his clothes touched it, and he found himself

snared by thorns which resembled fishhooks. The more he tried to free

himself, the more he became entangled by its barbs. Finally he had to

rely on his friend to release him from his hopeless situation." --Our

Daily Bread

One memorable night, a young lad and an old Scotchman, being in

Paris together, found themselves in front of one of the dens of

infamy. The fragrance of the spices of Araby seemed to float in the

air, and the sounds of music and dancing broke upon the ear. The

glitter and dazzle of fairyland was at the door. The Scotch boy said,

"What is that?" The body of the friend to whom he spoke now molders in

the dust. The voice that answered is now singing praises to God on

high; but the hand of that Scotchman came like a vise to the wrist of

the lad who was with him and the voice hardened to a tone that he

never forgot, as he said, "Man, that is hell!" What? It was a new idea

to the country lad--Hell, with an entrance like that?--with all the

colors of the rainbow; with all the flowers, beauty, and delightful

scenery and attractions? He had thought hell was ugly.

The tale of the goblet, which the genius of a heathen fashioned,

was true and taught a moral of which many a deathbed furnishes the

melancholy illustration. Having made the model of a serpent, he fixed

it in the bottom of a cup. Coiled for the spring, a pair of gleaming

eyes in its head, and in its open mouth fangs raised to strike, it lay

beneath the ruby wine. Nor did he, who raised that golden cup to

quench his thirst and quaff the delicious draught, suspect what lay

below, till as he reached the dregs that dreadful head rose up and

glistened before his eyes. So, when life's cup is nearly emptied, and

sin's last pleasure quaffed, and unwilling lips are draining the

bitter dregs, shall rise the ghastly terrors of remorse, and death,

and judgment, upon the despairing soul. Be assured, a serpent lurks at

the bottom of guilt's sweetest pleasure. To this awful truth, may God,

by His Word and Holy Spirit, open your eyes! --T. Guthrie

Some of you have visited the Castle of Chillon on the Lake of

Geneva. In that castle, is a dungeon containing a well, at the bottom

of which you discern the waters of the lake. That shaft is called the

way of liberty. Tradition says that in the old days the perfidious

jailer, in the darkness of the dungeon would whisper to the prisoner,

"Three steps and liberty," and the poor dupe, hastily stepping

forward, fell down this shaft, thickly planted with knives and spikes.

After being sliced and lacerated by these objects during the fall, the

mutilated, bloody corpse would drop into the lake.

That is precisely the liberty of sin. The dupe of temptation,

taking a leap in the dark, is forthwith pierced with many sorrows and,

sooner or later, mangled and bleeding, disappears in the gulf. "There

is a way that seemeth right unto a man, but the end thereof are the

ways of death." --W. L. Watkinson

Those who are born again have a hatred for sin: I once read a story

close to the following: A woman, who loved roses, decided one day to

cut some of them. Back near the center of one of her rosebushes, she

spotted a particularly beautiful rose, which she wanted to cut.

Carefully, she maneuvered her hand into the rosebush to do so.

Suddenly, she felt something cold begin to coil around her arm. She

quickly drew her arm back out of the rosebush, and to her horror,

there was a black snake wound around her arm! With utter revulsion and

fear, she violently shook her arm until the serpent was flung loose

from her limb!--and from that day onward, she would not go near that

rosebush. Her hatred, fear, and abhorrence of snakes was stronger than

her attraction toward the roses on that bush. --Duane V. Maxey

London held its breath in June 1987. While working on a building

site, a construction foreman thought his workers had hit a cast iron

pipe while using a pile driver. After picking up and then dropping

the huge object, they realized the pipe looked like a bomb. It was--

a 2,200-pound World War II bomb, one of the largest the Germans

dropped during the blitz which killed more than 15,000 Londoners.

After evacuating the area, a 10-man bomb disposal unit worked 18 hours

before deactivating the seven-foot device.

Unconfessed sin, like an unexploded bomb, can rest in the heart of

an individual--or in a church. Unless it's deactivated through

forgiveness, it can detonate and cause great damage.

--Moody

A ship once wrecked on the Irish coast. The captain was a careful

one. Nor had the weather been of so severe a kind to explain the wide

distance the ship had swerved from her course. The ship went down, but

so much interest was attached to the disaster that a diver was sent

down. Among other portions of the vessel that were examined was the

compass that was swung on deck. Inside the compass box was detected a

bit of steel which appeared to be the small point of a pocket-knife

blade. It appeared that the day before the wreck a sailor had been

sent to clean the compass, had used his pocket knife in the process,

and had unconsciously broken off the point and left it remaining in

the box. The bit of knife blade exerted its influence on the compass,

and to a degree that deflected the needle from its proper bent, and

spoiled it as an index of the ship's direction. That piece of knife

blade wrecked the vessel. Thus one trifling sin, as small as a broken

knife point, as it were, is able to rob the conscience of peace and

happiness--and wreck it upon the shoals of hell. --Rev. John McNeil

Pastor Ted Smith of the Faith Bible Church in Phoenix, Arizona

said, "When television turns it cameras on the bony, eye-bulging, sick

and starving babies of Somalia, it is more than I can bear to see. I

wonder with our nations' spiritual emaciation how agonizing it must be

for God to look at us." -- Paul Harvey

A besetting sin, even one unnoted by ourselves, will check and retard the spiritual life. The first time I saw the ocean was at San Pedro. When I saw the great ocean, I felt as Balboa must have felt when he looked on the vast Pacific. Here at San Pedro were the ships with their tall masts, for sailing ships were still plentiful. What a thrill it was to look upon them as they lay at anchor in the harbor! With my brother, I got into a rowboat and started to row across the harbor to Dead Man’s Island. Halfway to the island our boat began to move very slowly; it took the combined push of four oars to move it at all. Finally, we looked over the edge toward the keel of the boat and saw that a small strip of iron had become bent and protruded down into the sea. A mass of sea weed had accumulated about it. That was why it was difficult for us to move the boat. So it is with a single besetting sin. It may gather such a mass of objects and hindrances as will stop completely the onward progress of the soul.

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McCartney

I remember a tale that our mother used to tell us. It was of an

army officer in India who had a tiger cub for a pet. The cub was an

affectionate and playful animal, and was much with its master. It had

grown to size and strength, and one day the officer was sitting in his

library reading. As he read, he fell asleep. The young tiger, which

was lying by his chair, began to lick the hand of his master, which

hung down near him. There was a slight abrasion on the hand; and as

the tiger licked the wound he tasted blood, and with the blood he

became more and more ardent, until the officer, awakening, found

himself looking into the blazing yellow eyes, not of a playful tiger

cub, but of a ferocious beast that had tasted his blood and now sought

his life. Just in time, he seized his pistol and shot the tiger.

That story left a great impression upon me. So far as its

figurative meaning in the realm of morals and temptation is concerned,

the experience with life has only served to confirm that early

impression. The wrong relationship, which today seems only pleasant

and delightful, tomorrow may be the tiger thirsting for your blood.

--McCartney

Workmen removing a cellar wall under a dilapidated building in

Vermont not long ago, unearthed evidence which solves a murder mystery

of seventy years since. The discovery was made by accident, the

laborers having fallen into a pit while trying to lift some heavy

stones. The pit was about eight feet deep, with a stone wall

surrounding it. In the center of the pit was an iron post with a heavy

iron chain and a pair of handcuffs attached. Near by was a heap of

human bones. Inquiry disclosed the fact that in 1831 Perry Borden, a

young Frenchman, brought his wife to Poultney to live in the house

which the workmen were tearing down. Borden became jealous and forbade

her visiting a certain tavern near by. One night, her husband found

her there. She left the place with him and was never seen again.

Borden said his wife had deserted him and fled to Canada.

After a year, Borden went away and was not heard of again until

1882, when he suddenly reappeared. He said he had been at sea for

fifty years. His mind seemed shattered. He went to the little house

and remained two years, neighbors supplying him with provisions. He

died in 1887 and was buried in Potters Field. Every one in the

community believes Borden chained his wife in the cellar and left her

to die a horrible death.

There are many men who do not murder their wives or children, so

far as taking the life of the body is concerned, but who,

nevertheless, seal them up in a living tomb through their selfishness

and unkindness, which represses the natural hopefulness and courage of

the heart. One of the saddest things in human life is to note the

repressed lives, where every green bough that would run over the wall

in gladness is forced back and given no chance to grow. --L. A. Banks

When Dr. Donne took possession of his first living, he walked into

the churchyard as the sexton was digging a grave, and on his throwing

up a skull, the Doctor took it into his hands to indulge in serious

contemplation. On looking at it, he found a headless nail sticking in

the temple, which he secretly drew out and wrapped it in the corner of

his handkerchief. He then asked the gravedigger whether he knew whose

skull it was. He said he did, adding it had been a man's who kept a

brandy shop--a drunken fellow, who one night, having take two quarts

of ardent spirits, was found dead in his bed the next morning.

"Had he a wife?" "Yes." "Is she living? " "Yes." "What character

does she bear?" "A very good one; only her neighbors reflect on her

because she married the day after her husband was buried." This was

enough for the Doctor, who, in the course of visiting his

parishioners, called on her. He asked her several questions, and among

others of what sickness her husband died. She giving him the same

account, he suddenly opened the handkerchief and cried in an

authoritative voice, "Woman, do you know this nail?" She was struck

with horror at the unexpected question, and she instantly acknowledged

that she had murdered her husband. Afterwards, she was tried and

executed. --Dictionary Of Illustrations

Travelers tell us of a tree in tropical countries, the inner parts

of which, are sometimes eaten out by ants while the bark and leaves

remain apparently as fresh as ever, and it is not till the tornado

comes and sweeps it down that its weakness is discovered. But the

storm did not make the tree weak; it only revealed how weak it was,

and its feebleness was the result of the inward gnawing of insects

through a long course of time. In like manner, if we let our

characters be honeycombed by constant neglect of common duty, or by

daily indulgence in secret sin, or by habitually yielding to some

temptation, we cannot expect anything else than ruin when the testing

hour shall come. --Treasury

The ways of the ant not only serve to illustrate the virtues of an

energetic and productive life, but also show us the sad result of

taking pleasure in things that are self-defeating and detrimental to

others. Observers have noted that certain kinds of ants have a

passion for the sweet, glandular substance given off by the

caterpillar of a large blue butterfly. They can become so "addicted"

to it that they even seek out "the supplier" and carry him to their

nest with delight. But they unwittingly bring home an enemy in

disguise, for the caterpillar gorges himself exclusively on ant larva.

Usually such a threat to the colony would be repelled with great

vigor, but the adults enjoy the tasty secretions of their "guest" so

much that they are oblivious of the fact that their young are being

devoured in the process.

Similarly, the child of God can become absorbed in practices that

are inherently dangerous to his own Christian experience and

ultimately will affect the lives of others. (\reference{Job

20:12}{Job 20:12},\reference{14}{Job 20:14})

Lord Byron was guilty of a foolish self-pity. He showed a mawkish

sentimentality about the sins which he never ceased to love. He was

pleased to think of himself as the unfortunate prey of fleshly lusts,

while he gloried in his shame. Sometimes moral obliquity sinks so low

that the sinner prides himself on his insensibility. A man recently

said that he would rather pay ten thousand dollars to retain his

delicious thirst for alcoholic beverages, to which he was a slave,

than to pay one hundred dollars for its removal. When a soul has

dropped into that abyss of spiritual morbidity, he can scarcely hear

the voice of God summoning him to liberty and life.

Fenelon imagined a dialogue between Ulysses and Grillus, the man

whom Circe had turned into a hog. Ulysses wanted to bring him back to

manhood. But Grillus would not consent. He said, "No, the life of a

hog is so much pleasanter." "But, said Ulysses, "do you make no

account of eloquence, poetry and music?" "No, I would rather grunt

than be eloquent like you." "But," asked Ulysses further, "how can you

endure this nastiness and stench?" Grillus replied, "It all depends on

the taste. The odor is sweeter to me than that of amber, and the filth

than the nectar of the gods."

It is a pertinent question for every spiritually fallen and

degenerated person: "Do you sincerely wish to get well?" --Rev. G. P.

Eckman

The precocious six-year-old burst into the British pub, surveyed the patrons, and spotted an elderly man with his paper and mug of beer. “What doest thou here, Elijah,” the youngster boldly stated, “sitting with the ungodly, and you a member of the church, and breaking your pastor’s heart? I am ashamed of you.” His corrective delivered, young Charles Spurgeon left the pub -- and left the wayward member of his grandfather’s church spurred to a renewed Christian life!

Getting out of sin is painful, but urgent. A great warrior was

once persuaded by his enemies to put on a beautiful robe, which they

presented to him. Not suspecting their design, he wrapped himself

tightly in it, but in a few moments found that it was coated on the

inside with a deadly poison. It stuck to his flesh as if it had been

glued. The poison entered his flesh, so that, in trying to throw off

the cloak, he was left torn and bleeding. But did he for that reason

hesitate about taking it off? Did ye stop to think whether it was

painful or not? No; he had more sense than that. He tore it off at

once, and threw it from him, and hastened away from it to the

physician!