Humor from the Evangelism Teachings

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Bron Clifford, a gifted young preacher, loved to tell the humorous story of Old Mike, the village drunkard, who was staggering home one night visibly inebriated. As he went his merry way, he came to a section of the road which was being worked on by the street department. In his drunken stupor he failed to heed a red light placed there by the workmen to warn people of the danger, and Old Mike fell into an open manhole.

When he found himself in this hole, he was surprised to say the least, and felt around to see if he could find a way out. There was no ladder available and he couldn't do it.

So he began to holler, "Help me out." And the echo created by the hole repeated, "Help me out." No one responded and so he called out again, "Help me out." And again the echo repeated, "Help me out." There was no answer, so he resigned himself to spending the night in the manhole. He propped himself up against the side and went to sleep.

After a very uncomfortable night, he awakened in the morning and the sun was up. There was a little circle of light at the top of the hole and Mike started yelling again, "Help me out." And the echo replied, "Help me out." He kept calling with no success until Pat, who was on his way to work, passed by, heard a cry and stopped to listen. He heard, "Help me out." "Help me out." He listened again to be sure of what he heard, "Help me. Help me out." And he said, "Sure, and if they can't help each other out, let them say there."

From "Dawn after Darkness"

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One of my favorite stories is about an Englishman, an American and a Scotchman, each of whom ordered a bowl of soup. As the soup was delivered, three flies circling overhead made a landing – one in each bowl of soup. The Englishman picked up a spoon, gently lifted the fly out of the soup and deposited it on the saucer. The American reached over, flicked his finger and knocked the fly out of the soup on to the floor. The Scotch man studied the situation for a moment and then reaching in with both hands, grabbed the fly by its wings and said, " Spit it out. Spit out."

From "Signs of Life"

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One of the many different jobs I had to pay my way through school was as a delivery boy for a florist. I’ll never forget my first delivery to a mortuary. I took the bouquet to the reception desk and asked where to put it. I was told to set it beside the casket in the third slumber room on my left. "What do I do with this boutonniere?" I asked. The lady smiled and answered, "Put it on the man lapel."

I gulped -- I hadn’t been around any dead people before -- and cautiously made my way down the hall, opened the third door to my left and stepped inside. Sure enough, there was a man lying in a casket. I placed the floral display beside the casket, took a deep breath, leaned over the casket to place the boutonniere on the man’s lapel. As I did so, he opened his eyes and said, "Thanks bud!"

I nearly died! Later, I learned that one of my "friends" back at the florist shop had phoned ahead, explained I was a new driver and asked that I be given the "full treatment." After I got over the initial shock and began to think about it, I wondered why I had been so scared. And it hit me: "Dead men don’t talk!"

From "Signs of Life"

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It’s about a little boy whose parents had the happy habit of putting him to bed and listening to his prayers each evening. One night, after he had said his nighty-night prayers, they went down stairs and were talking over the things of the day. About an hour later they heard a thud on the floor, they ran upstairs and found their little lad climbing sleepily into bed. As the father tucked his little boy under the covers he said, "Son, how did you fall out of bed?" The little boy was almost back into dreamland and he rubbed his eyes sleepily and said, "Well, I don’t know, daddy, I guess I stayed too close to where I got in"

From "The Vantage Point of Youth"

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Several years ago, when my niece Marilyn was quite small, she came to her mother and said, "Mommy, where does God live?" My sister Doris, thought for a moment and answered wisely, "Well, dear, if we love him, God lives in our hearts." Marilyn said, "I love God, mommy. Does that mean that God lives inside of me?" Her mother answered, "Yes, dear, that’s right."

The little girl seemed satisfied and went back to her playing. Several days later she was eating her lunch, which consisted of applesauce among other things. Suddenly she stopped and, with a frown on her face asked, "Mommy! Is God mad at me?" Her mother replied, "Why would God be mad at you, Marilyn?" "lf was God, I’d be mad!" "I don’t understand honey, what do you mean?" Marilyn answered, "If I had applesauce over me, I’d be mad! You said God lives inside of me, and with me eating this stuff he must have it all over him by now."

From "The Vision Splendid"

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I remember hearing the story of a hunter who had purchased a new hunting dog. Early on opening day of hunting season his dog picked up the trail of a deer. Shortly thereafter, a fox crossed the trail of the deer and the dog took after the fox. A little later, a rabbit crossed the trail of the fox and the dog took after the rabbit. Still a little later, a squirrel crossed the trail of the rabbit and the dog took after the squirrel. When the hunter finally caught up with his dog, he found it barking triumphantly at the hole of a field mouse.

From "The Peril of Becoming a Christian"

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I enjoy the story of the kid who built a hot rod and the first time he tried it, a motorcycle cop gave him a speeding ticket. So the young man tore the hot rod down and rebuilt it. He wanted to make it go faster so he could outrun the cop. But, when he tried to do so, he was caught and the same cop gave him a second ticket. He upgraded his car a few more times, and the same cop gave him a few more tickets.

Finally, the young man who was blessed with inherited wealth, sold his hot rod and bought a European sports car capable of going one hundred and fifty miles an hour. He climbed in his new car and cruised down the highway at about seventy miles an hour, past the signboard where this motorcycle cop liked to hide. Sure enough he was there and took after the speeding car.

When the cop caught up, the young man increased his speed to eighty miles an hour and the cop slowly caught up. Then he increased to ninety miles an hour and the cop slowly caught up. Finally, the kid put the pedal to the metal and sped down the highway at one hundred and fifty miles an hour leaving the cop in his dust.

About a mile or so down the road he pulled over, stopped and waited for the cop to catch up. He knew he was going to get a ticket, but this one would be worth it! He waited and waited but the motorcycle officer didn’t appear.

So the young man turned his powerful European-made car around, went back up the highway and about a mile or so later found the officer wandering around in a daze. His uniform was all scuffed up. His motorcycle was upside down. The wheels were still spinning. It was a mess.

"What on earth happened?" the young man asked. In a daze the cop replied, "You remember how you’d speed up and I’d slowly catch you, then you’d speed up and I’d slowly catch you?" "Yes." "Well, the last time you sped up, you pulled away so fast I thought I was standing still and got off to see what the trouble was!"

From "How Do You Spell Life?"

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Things are not always as bad as they can be made to appear. My brother-in-law is a successful physician. His income has allowed him the opportunity to collect art. His tastes turn toward the surrealistic. One of his more recent additions is a painting which features a splash of bright color in the upper left-hand corner with some black and white streaks descending across the canvas to what looks like a disintegrating orange in the lower right-hand corner. The painting is entitled, "Man Playing a Piano." When Lucille and I first viewed this painting, I asked her what she thought. She said, "Well, it only goes to show things are never quite so bad as they can be painted!"

From "They Can’t Stop It, Can They!"

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Talk about confusion. It’s everywhere. A famous politician recently visited a defense plant. He stopped to talk to one of the machinists. Pointing to a young person standing at the next machine with cropped hair and baggy trousers, the politician said, "That’s the trouble with young people today, you can’t tell whether it’s a boy or a girl." To which the machinist answered, "Well it’s a girl, and she’s my daughter." "Oh," the politician said apologetically, "I didn’t realize you were her father." To which the worker replied, "I am not her father, I am her mother!"

From "They Can’t Stop It, Can They!"

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I love the story of the country preacher who enjoyed using big words in his sermons. His favorite was the word phenomenon. One of his laymen approached him after a sermon in which he had used it often and asked, "Pastor, what does that word phenomenon mean?" The pastor thought for a moment and then replied, "Well, as you drove your horse and buggy to church this morning, do you remember going by a green pasture surrounded by a white fence?" "Yes." "Well," the preacher went on, "that was no phenomenon. And, do you remember that over in the corner of that pasture there was a black cow eating that green grass?" "Yes." "Well, that was no phenomenon either. Then, do you recall that in another part of the pasture there was a bluebird sitting on a brown thistle singing a song?" "Yes," the man said. "Well," the pastor continued, "that was no phenomenon either. But, if some Sunday morning on your way to church, you pass that green pasture surrounded by that white fence and you see that black cow sitting on that brown thistle singing like that bluebird -- that’s a phenomenon!"

From "They Can’t Stop It, Can They!"

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I love the story about the guy who went to see a psychiatrist. He was wearing a yellow jacket with one green sleeve and one blue sleeve. His slacks were purple, his shoes were red and he had a parrot sitting on his head. When the doctor asked, "What can I do for you?" The parrot said, "How do I get this thing off my feet!"

From "They Can’t Stop It, Can They!"

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Galen Drake, the famous broadcaster, shared this Short Sermon for Young Preachers written by Dr William Barrett Millard.

"Pray every night and shave every morning.
Keep your conscience clean, and also your linen.
Let your light shine, and shine your shoes.
Press your advantages, your opportunities, and your trousers
Brush the cobwebs from your brain and the dandruff from your collar.
Beware of a reputation for bad breath and rancid jokes. Both offend.
Covet a golden tongue more than a "greenback."
Don’t mix your metaphors, but, at the same time be a good mixer.
You can’t put fire in your work unless there is fire in your heart.
Two things cannot be imitated; God’s sunset and man’s sincerity.
It is better to establish a solid precedent than to follow a poor one.
It is better to lose a good fight than to win a bad one. And--
Always be content with what you have,
but never with what you are."

From "Our Impossible Goals"

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Abraham Lincoln loved to tell the story of a man from Illinois who was arrested for passing a counterfeit bill. The judge who was hearing the case asked the man a question.

"Did you take the bill to the cashier of the bank and ask him if he it was good?"
"I did."
"What did the cashier say?"
"He said it was ‘a pretty tolerable, respectable’ sort of bill."

Applying the story to a foot-loose, fancy-free, conniving preacher he did not respect, Lincoln said he thought the man was a "pretty tolerable, respectable" sort of a preacher.

There’s nothing inspiring about a "pretty tolerable, respectable" sort of anything, let alone that kind of preacher. And the man of God who is content to be average, "a reasonable facsimile" of the real thing, a "pretty tolerable, respectable" sort of a preacher, is not going to be of much use to God.

From "Our Impossible Goals"

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Perhaps you’ve heard about the senator who made a political speech. After he was finished, one of his admirers came up and shook his hand warmly and said, "Congratulations, Senator! That was a great speech. I liked the straightforward way in which you dodged the issues."

From "Islands of Healing"

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I read the other day of a man who bought a drugstore from a fellow who said it was a going concern. It turned out to be a bad investment. Things went from bad to worse. About six months later he met the original owner and said, "Do you remember that business you sold me as a going concern? Well, it’s gone!"

From "Islands of Healing"

 

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