Illustrations from the Evangelism sermons

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Picture if you will, a giant eagle soaring majestically above the Niagara River, his great wings spread in flight. As he glides silently overhead looking for prey, he spies the carcass of a bird floating upon a block of ice on the River below.

He swoops down, lands on the ice, and begins to devour the dead bird. From time to time, while he eats, he looks up and sees the river is broadening out — a sign it is nearing the falls — but hastily returns to his meal, waiting until the ice is about to go over the falls when he will spread his wings and fly to safety. Why worry about the falls? Here is a great feast. There’s plenty of time.

So the ice floats onward carrying its strange cargo nearer, yet nearer, the gigantic falls. The roar of this great spectacle of God's handiwork grows louder and louder as if crying out a warning that death is near, but to no avail.

At last, as the block of ice is about to plunge over the falls, the eagle lifts his wings to take flight. But, while he has been engrossed in eating, his long talons have become frozen in the ice. He is unable to free himself, and goes screeching over the falls to his death.

The same can be said of many people’s today. They go floating along on the river of life interested only in material things. "The Judgment Day Falls" cry out, but they pay no heed. Oh someday, when they are lying on their death bed, when they are about to breathe their last breath, when they have tried all the world has to offer, then, when they have no other way to turn, then they intend to accept Christ. They intend to fly into the safety of his everlasting arms. But they wait too long. The world has frozen their hearts and they plunge over "Judgment Day Falls" unsaved.

From "The Question God Cannot Answer"

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In our endeavor to tell others of God's free gift of salvation, we sometimes forget that salvation cost a tremendous price. Salvation is free, but think of what it cost Jesus. Oh, the matchless love that sent him from his home in glory to die for us. It was a great price that he paid that day he as he stood before a huge crowd and heard them cry, "Crucify him. Crucify him."

Then, when Pilate had delivered him to be crucified, scripture says, "The soldiers of the government took Jesus into the common hall, and they gathered unto him all the soldiers. And they stripped him and put him in a scarlet robe. And when they had woven a crown of thorns, they put it upon his head, and a reed in his right hand; and they bowed their knees before him, and mocked him, saying 'Hail, King of the Jews!' And they spit upon him, and took the reed, and smote him on the head. After they had mocked him, they took off the robe from him, and put his own raiment on him, and led him away to crucify him."

Then as he hung there, nails piercing his hands and his feet, suffering untold pain and anguish, he asked for a drink of water and they gave him a sponge of vinegar. After he was already dead a soldier with a spear pierced his side, and blood and water flowed from the wound. Yes, salvation is free, but oh the price that Jesus paid.

"Lest I forget Gethsemane,
 Lest I forget Thy love for me,
 Lest I forget Thy thorn-crowned brow,
Lead me to Calvary."

From "The Question God Cannot Answer"

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Thinking along this line brings to mind the story of "Old bust 'em up." "Old bust 'em up" was a tugboat which harbored in New York Harbor. She gained her name from several of the other tug boat owners there in the harbor, because invariably whenever she came into the harbor she would ram into buoys, and bash into several ships and cause a general mess-up, after which the captain of the unruly tug would storm out on deck and proceed to give all within hearing distance a royal cussing out. It became a habit then, to be around when "Old bust 'em up" came into the harbor, as it was sure to be a good show.

One day a cry went out along the dock that "Old bust 'em up" was coming in. Everyone dropped what they were doing and went to watch the fun. To the surprise of all, "Old bust 'em up" came gliding into the harbor as nice as could be. No ramming into buoys. No smashing into ships. And not one outburst from the captain. This was too much for the onlookers and one of them called out across the water, "What's come over "Old bust 'em up"? There was silence for a moment and then the big burly captain came out on deck and roared back so everyone could hear, "There's a new skipper on board!"

That’s the change which comes over every newborn Christian, for, they, too, have a new skipper on board in the person of Jesus Christ. That is the change which will come over your life if you'll let him be Captain of your life.

From "The Question God Cannot Answer"

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A man was drowning in the Chicago River. Unable to swim, he had already gone down two times when a man on the bridge above heard his cry, rushed to the railing of the bridge with a lifebouy and threw it to the floundering man. To his amazement the man refused the bouy, choosing rather to try to save himself, and within a few seconds his struggling ceased and he sank to the bottom of the river.

You say, "What a tragedy. How foolish." And you're right! But, friend, it is a far greater tragedy when you reject Christ, and a thousand times more foolish, for rejecting Christ means doing so for all eternity.

From "The Question God Cannot Answer"

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Some time ago I read the following incident in a Midwest newspaper. It was a rainy, cold, winters night as a man drove on his way to a nearby city on business. He noticed the lights of the car some distance ahead of him had disappeared. Thinking it had gone over the crest of a hill he continued to speed ahead.

It so happened that due to the heavy rains the highway bridge had been washed out. Quite unexpectedly, the car ahead of him came upon this precipice, was unable to stop, and crashed over the bank into the surging river below.

The driver was able to free himself and swim ashore. He hurried up the bank and down the highway a short distance to warn the cars that were following, of the danger ahead. As the lights of the first car appeared, he began frantically waving his arms, signaling the car to stop. The driver, thinking he was a hitchhiker, ignored his frantic warning and hurried on into the night, plunging over the bank into the river.

Another driver was right behind the first, and he, too, chose to ignore the man’s waving arms, and crashed into the raging waters below the bridge.

As a third car approached, the fellow now was almost crazy at seeing two cars plunge over the washed-out bridge. He ripped off his drenched shirt and began waving it in the air as he stepped directly into the path of the oncoming car, screaming at the top of his lungs, "For God's sake stop!" But the driver did not heed him, swerved around him and plunged over the precipice to his death.

That night several more drivers ignored the man's warning, and, as a result, over a dozen people died. He understood the danger. He wanted to be their Savior. But they would not heed the warning.

From "The Question God Cannot Answer"

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"There once was a gay young skylark who was very fond of worms. He used to say he would give anything if he could only make sure of having all the worms he could eat. One day while he was flying high in the sky, he looked down and saw something unusual traveling along the cart-track which ran through the forest below. Feeling curious, the young skylark dropped lower and lower until at last he could see. And my! What a wonderful sight he beheld.

"There was a tiny coach, painted black with red blinds and yellow wheels, drawn by two magpies. Walking in front of the coach was a little old man, wearing a black coat with red trousers and yellow shoes. He carried a bell and, as he walked, he kept swinging the bell and shouting --

"Who will buy? Who will buy?
I am selling in all weather,
Fine and fat and juicy worms,
In exchange for skylark's feathers."

"The skylark was attracted and flew down.
'Good morning, my pretty bird,' said the old man. ' What can I do for you?'
'Please sir, how much are they?' asked the skylark.
'Two for a feather and the coach is full of them'!
'Are they fresh?'
'Yes, indeed, they were all gathered fresh this morning'

"The skylark gave a painful little tug at his wing and dropped a feather into the old man's hand. 'Two, please.'

As the coach passed on, the skylark felt a little guilty, but he enjoyed the feast, and was pleased to discover that no one noticed the missing feather.

"The next day he flew with his father.
' My son,' said the old skylark, as they rose higher and higher,
far above the tops of the tallest trees of the forest, 'My son, I think we skylarks should be the happiest of birds. We have such wonderful wings. See how they lift us up, nearer and nearer to God?'
‘Y--es,' said the young skylark, 'Y–es...'

"But all the time he was watching a tiny speck which crept along like a black beetle on the cart track far below and he thought, 'I've missed the coach!'

"So the next day he waited close to the cart-track. When he heard the bell ringing, he plucked a feather. This one came out so easily, he plucked two more after it. Then he heard a hoarse voice shouting --

'Who will buy? Who will buy?
Surely we can come to terms.
In exchange for skylark’s feathers
I am selling luscious worms.'
' Three here,' said the young skylark.
' Very good, very good indeed. That will be six worms. And here's an extra one for luck,' said the old man with a chuckle.
'My word,' thought the skylark, ' that's a real bargain.'

"So, the gay young skylark became a regular customer. He found that he couldn’t fly so high, but he didn’t mind. There was less chance of the coach passing without being seen. But one day, when his wings were thin and worn and ragged, he suddenly realized he had made a terrible mistake. He tried to fly up into the warm sunshine he had once known, but fell back to earth like a stone. Then he had an idea.

'Of course,’ he said to himself. ‘Why didn't I think of it before? I know what I’ll do. I'll dig for worms and trade for feathers.'

"So, day and night, he diligently searched and gathered and stored. When he had amassed a huge pile of worms, he hid himself in the tall grass so the coach could not pass without being seen. When he heard it, he stepped in front of the coach and said,

'Please sir, how many feathers will you trade me for all these worms?'

"But the old man laughed and drove off, calling back over his shoulder,
'Worms for feathers is my business,
Not feathers for worms.'

"So the young skylark died and was buried under the green grass. And now they say that every summer the older birds take the young birds and fly mournfully over the grave, calling to one another as they fly --

'Here lies a foolish skylark,
Hush your note each bird that sings,
Here lies a poor lost skylark,
Who for earthworms sold his wings.'"

G. H. Charnley

From "Worms or Wings"

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Paul, that superlative Christian, hit the nail on the head when he wrote:

"I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless,
I live; yet not I, but Christ, living in me."

In other words, Paul knew that to be a successful Christian you must

"Accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative
and (stop messin’) around with Mr. In-Between."

It costs to be that kind of follower of Christ and costs heavily, for sometimes God demands the supreme sacrifice. John was a fine, stalwart, Christian young man. Betty was a beautiful, talented Christian girl. Together they gave their lives for full-time service for Christ. God called them to China and there, John and Betty Stam served faithfully the cause of Christ.

Because they were unwilling to compromise, one day the Chinese communists came, looted their mission and carried them off. On a desolate hillside their captors tormented and mutilated their bodies in a vain effort to make them renounce their Lord.

Finally, in one last attempt, they took Betty and threw her down upon the ground. Then, appealing to John's love for her, they told him that unless he denied Christ, they would kill her. At Betty's urging, John chose to be strong in the Faith and refused to deny his Lord.

As the assassin’s sword began to fall, John, with one supreme effort, broke free from his captors and cried out,

"We'll die together for the cause of Christ" and threw himself beside the body of his wife. The sword fell, and two heads were severed from their bodies.

The great weakness in Christianity today lies not in the fact that we do not have more John and Betty Stams who are willing to die for Christ. The great weakness in Christianity today lies in the heartbreaking fact that we do not have more Smiths and Joneses and Browns who are willing to live for Christ.

From "Worms or Wings"

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There once was a wise man who lived in a far distant land. It was said that he had the answer to all questions. In a far distant corner of that far distant land lived a little boy. He had heard of the Wise Man and wondered if, some day, he could outwit him.

After giving it much thought, the lad conceived an idea. I know what I’ll do, he said to himself, I’ll capture a bird and carry it to the Wise Man. When I reach him, I will put the bird behind my back and ask him this question. "Wise Man, what do I have in my hand?" And he will reply, "My son, you have a bird in your hand." Then I’ll say to him, "Tell me, Wise Man, is that bird dead or alive?" If he says the bird is dead I will open my hand and let it fly away showing the bird to be alive. If he says the bird is alive, I will squeeze my hand, choke out its life and show it to him dead.

Well, the boy seemed to have the perfect question, didn’t he? It was a question the Wise Man could not answer. At last, his opportunity arrived. The boy captured a bird and putting it behind his back, he approached the Wise Man with his first question, "Wise Man, what do I have in my hand?" "My Son, you have a bird in your hand." "Tell me, Wise Man, is that bird dead or is it alive?"

The Wise Man searched the face of the boy for a moment and then answered, "My son, that depends on you!" My friend, will you live or die? Will you be saved or lost? Will your destiny be heaven or . . . ? That . . . depends . . . on . . . you!

From "The Great Decision"

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From the writings of Gautama Buddha, the founder of Buddhism, come these words:

"The world is empty.
The heart is surely dead.
God is nothing.
Man is nothing.
Life is nothing.
Death is nothing.
Eternity is evil.
All existence is evil."

From "Many Creeds One Christ"

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Dr. Biederwolf, one of the great Christian warriors of our day, writes, "I have looked, as if in a dream, through the gates of heaven. I stood, as it were, by an angel’s side who was there to guard the way. And as I stood there, the spirit of a man came and tried to gain admission. He told the angel of his wealth and the vast treasures he had gathered on earth. But the angel pointed to his gold and said, ‘We pave our streets with that stuff. There is not enough gold to buy even a glimpse into the celestial city.’

"And then a moral man came and told the angel who he was, told him of his morality and talked of the good works he had done. But the angel said, ‘Not of works, lest any man should boast. You can't come in.’

"Then came the spirit of another man and laid before the angel his respectability, his reputation and told of the good name he had borne among his neighbors. But the angel shook his head and said, ‘There is no other name given among men whereby we must be saved but the name of Jesus.’

"And then another came saying, ‘Nothing in my hands I bring; simply to the cross I cling. The blood of Jesus Christ hath cleansed me from sin.’ And then the gates of heaven rolled back on their jeweled hinges and the angel cried, ‘Enter into the everlasting Kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.’

As the gates rolled back, I saw whole armies of redeemed drunkards, and numerous legions of those saved from the vilest sinks of sin, and whole acres of redeemed men and women who once trusted in their own morality and their own good name, but gave it all up for a righteousness not their own.

"They had crowns on their heads and palms of victory in their hands. And I saw one whose face and form I could not mistake. One like unto Jesus. And he ascended the throne, and the great throngs whom no man could number, took their crowns and cast them at his feet. And they waved their palms and cried: Wonderful. Counselor. The mighty God. The everlasting father. The prince of peace! And the heavenly choir sang,

‘All hail the power of Jesus name,
Let angels prostrate fall;
Bring forth the royal diadem
And crown him Lord of all.’"

Will you crown him your Lord -- right now?

From "Dawn after Darkness"

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A little girl was walking with her father one night. As she looked up that the starry sky, she said, "Daddy, if the wrong side of heaven is so beautiful, what will the right side be?" This is our conviction, too. For we know that the home which Christ is preparing for his own, is more wonderful and glorious than all of the adjectives and superlatives in the combined vocabularies of the world can describe. Someone has said --

From "Heaven"

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From "Heaven"

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From "Heaven"

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A young girl who was profoundly impressed by an older woman whose face literally glowed with the radiance of her Christian testimony said,

"I’d give the world for you Christian experience."

"That’s exactly what it cost me," answered the woman.

"I gave the world for it."

From "The Sign of the Cross"

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A fellow got off of a train, went over to the station master and asked him where the revival was. It was back in Billy Sunday's day and Billy happened to be in that particular town preaching. The station master thought for a moment and then said,

"Why, the revival is here." And he pointed to his heart.

"Billy Sunday is down the street at the Tabernacle."

And that's where every revival begins. In the heart and life of the saints. There never has been and there never will be a wave of evangelism among the unsaved until there is a revival among the saved. But let the Church be gripped by revival, and evangelism will naturally follow. Someone has said,

"You get on fire for God and other people will come and watch you burn."

From "Let the Fire Fall"

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Sometime ago there was a young man living in the Midwest. His name was Gordon Davies. He worked in there in one of the major cities, earning a little more than $6000 a year. Now, as I've said, this was back during the depression, and $6000 a year was a great deal of money. Gordon Davies was a man who was serious about his commitment to Christ and, after much thought and prayer, he decided to leave his job at $6000 a year to go to Africa as a missionary, for less than $600 a year.

One night while he was in London on his way to Africa, he was standing on the street corner when a little ragamuffin of a boy came up to him said,

"Hey, mister, have you got a sixpence?"
That's about a nickel in American money.
Well, Gordon Davies reached into his pocket, pulled of a small coin and gave it to the boy. As the lad turned to leave, Gordon said,

"Son, I'd like to tell you about something far more precious than that coin."
The little kid's eyes lit up and he said,
"Yeah, mister, what is it?"

And then Gordon Davies dealt on the street corner, took a little boy to his heart and began to tell him the story of Jesus. He told him how he left his home in heaven to come and dwell upon earth because he loved little boys so much. He told him how he lived a sinless, perfect, holy life, and yet how in spite of all this he was betrayed and led away to a cross. He told him how he died upon that cross for him. And there on that corner in London, Gordon Davies led his first convert to Christ.

As he got up to leave, a little boy grabbed him by the sleeve and said,
"Hey, mister, have you got a match?"

My, how that cut Gordon. After he spent his time telling the little boy about Jesus, it seemed all the youngster was interested in was a cigarette.

He said, "No, I haven't," and started to leave. Once again the little boy tugged at his sleeve and, looking up into is face, he said,

"Gee, mister, I'm sorry, 'cause I wanted to light it and hold it up to your face and look at you, 'cause you're the first man whoever loved to me enough to tell me about Jesus."

From "Let the Fire Fall"

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One of my favorite places is Yosemite Valley. It inspires me every time I am privileged to be there.
I love to visit Bridal Veil Falls which sways hither and thither in the summer breeze and at sunset reflects all the colors of the rainbow.
I love to stand beneath the giant Redwoods which tower hundreds of feet into the heavens.
I love to gaze into Mirror Lake at sunset and see all of the surrounding scenery mirrored in its crystal clear waters.

But most of all, I love to watch the Fire Fall which takes place each evening at nine o'clock.
Those of you who have seen this glorious spectacle remember that, as the hour of nine approaches, an awesome stillness comes over Camp Curry, which is the center of the Valley. Every eye is turned toward Glacier Point which rises hundreds of feet above. There, in the darkness, you can see the faint glow of a fire which is burning.
Suddenly the stillness is broken as the announcer at Camp Curry cries out, "Hello Glacier!" After a moment of silence, a man on top of Glacier Point calls back through the night air, "Hello Camp Curry!" As an air of expectancy sweeps over everyone in the Valley, the announcer calls out, "Let the fire fall!"

And then, the fire which has been burning all evening waiting for that one cry, is pushed out over the edge of Glacier Point and tumbles down through the night. Shimmering and shaking -- glowing and growing -- until at last it resembles a tremendous illuminated waterfall, and the whole Valley glows with its brilliance.

The first time I saw this unforgettable sight my eyes filled with tears. It’s so impressive. And I thought of that Great Fire which burns in the heart of God above. I thought of God standing there in his great heaven waiting for the one cry that will send that fire tumbling down upon the earth in showers of blessing.

This evening we stand in the midst of the darkness of a world in sin. And the cry of my heart is, "Hello, Heaven!" And God, standing there in his great heaven, answers back in all of his love and mercy, "Hello, (name city) I've been waiting for your call."

And then the cry of my beating, beseeching, pleading heart goes shooting out across the skies --

"Oh, God, let the fire fall. Let it fall upon me, oh God. Let it fall upon this church. Upon these people. Upon this pastor. Upon this community. Oh, God, let the fire fall!"

From "Let the Fire Fall"

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It happened during a crusade in one of our eastern cities. The congregation was singing the last verse of the invitation hymn. I noticed a dignified looking man standing a bit to my right, about two rows back, on the end of the aisle. I could see he was troubled about something, so I stepped over to him to see if I could be of assistance. I don’t usually do that, but there was no personal worker I could send, so I went myself.

He was unknown to me. I hadn’t seen him before that night. I later learned from the pastor he was a deacon and a prominent member of the church. But not knowing him, I said, "Are you a Christian?" Somewhat surprised, he answered, "I hope so." I said, "Is that all you can say?" He looked rather startled and said, "What more do you want me say?" I replied, "I’d like you to say you know you’re a Christian."

The gentleman hesitated for a moment and then said, "Preacher, I think that would be presumptuous on my part. I don’t believe I’ll know that for sure, until I meet God face-to-face."

Beloved, it is not presumptuous for you to say you know you’re a Christian. In fact, it is a sin against grace and a breach of faith to say anything less. For praise God, you can know with absolute certainty whether are not you have passed from death unto life.

From "Signs of Life"

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I was in a ministers meeting some months ago. We were discussing the various perils with which a minister must learn to deal. As we went around the circle each one of us mentioned this peril or that which a minister must guard against. Finally, it came time for our guest of honor, Dr. Howard Thurman – that great Negro scholar and Christian -- to speak. In his quiet, considered way Dr. Thurman said,

"Brother preachers, how much do you pray?"

It was as if we’d been shot. Each of us was deeply conscious-stricken as we searched our hearts on that question. Oh, we had many excuses. We had been busy at this or that. Hunting texts. Preparing sermons. Comforting the sick. Visiting the sorrowful. Arranging for funerals. Serving on committees. Doing the endless tasks of a minister. Yet somehow, as we faced up to the question, as we laid our hearts bare before Almighty God, we realized not one of these puny excuses was good enough. We had failed to pray as we ought. Not one of us in that group of 50 or more had made enough of prayer.

From "Signs of Life"

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I read somewhere (I believe it was in a mission magazine) that in the Huanan Province in China, a certain church refused to follow its pastor’s leadership in undertaking an unquestionably Christian, but difficult challenge, on the grounds it involved too much risk and offered too little chance of success.

The following Sunday morning, when the congregation arrived, they found their pastor dressed in sackcloth and ashes, beating his head against the floor and wailing as if he had lost his best friend. "Who’s dead?" They asked. "Haven’t you heard?" the pastor answered. "God’s dead!" "The man’s crazy," they exclaimed. "Of course God isn’t dead." Whereupon the pastor turned to them and said, "Then why don’t you act as if he were alive!"

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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Dr. James B. Chapman illustrates the folly of such witnessing with this story. He says that during the Civil War the Federalists were stationed on one side of a creek and the Confederates on the other. While the men were waiting for orders, there was a lull in the fighting, but the bands continued to play. The Federal band played, "The Star Spangled Banner," and the Confederates answered with "Dixie." The Federal band played another national song which was promptly answered with a southern favorite.

Finally, one of the bands began the strains of "Home, Sweet, Home" and immediately the other band joined tin. As the sweet music rang out over the dark battlefield something wonderful happened. Fathers from both North and South thought of their babies at home. Husbands thought of faithful, waiting wives. Sons thought of mothers. Brothers thought of sisters. Lovers thought of sweethearts. Soon all of them had forgotten the "enemy". Hats were tossed in the air. Cheeks were stained with tears. And choking voices raised a cheer for, " Home, Sweet, Home."

Do you get the point? You can witness to the peculiarities of your particular denomination and all you’ll do is antagonize someone from some other group. But if you talk Christ -- if you tell the gospel of Christ’s love and Christ’s grace and Christ’s life -- if you cry out "All hail the power of Jesus name!" then Methodists and Presbyterians and Lutherans and Baptists and all the rest will join you in singing his praises. All of our denominational differences and personal peculiarities pale into insignificance as we gather at the feet of King Jesus!

From "Signs of Life"

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When Lucille and I were in Boros, Sweden we stayed in the lovely home of a man named Joe Svelander. One day Joe and I were chatting and I asked him, "What is your business?" He replied, "I am a Christian." I thought he had misunderstood me and remembering Swedes often call their business their "affair" I said, "No Joe, I was talking about your affair. Your main concern. Your daily work." He smiled. "I understood you, Johnnie. I’m a Christian. That’s my affair. That’s my main concern. I sell Ford automobiles to pay the expenses."

My Swedish friend had it right. That’s being a Christian. That’s bearing the right kind of fruit. It is, as the poet put it:

"Paying a visit to sorrows abode,
Helping a burdened one o’er a rough road;
This the sweet thought making duty delight,
Turning the shadows of gloom into light --
Just to please Jesus.
Giving a smile or taking a hand,
Leading lost feet to the fair Better Land;
Doing and thinking and hearing and seeing,
Eating and drinking and waking and being --
Just to please Jesus.

From "Signs of Life"

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Would to God we had more parents like the Moravian mother who, after giving a son to missions was approached by a sad faced friend who said, "Your son is gone!"

That dear woman said, "Is my son Thomas gone to Heaven through the missionary life?" The messenger nodded. "Then," she said, "would to God he would call my next son, John." John was called and went and also died. When a committee came bearing the tragic news to this faithful mother, instead of tears of bitterness she exclaimed, "Praise God! Would he would call my last son, William." Her prayer was answered. William went and also fell on the battlefield of Christian missions. But even then, in the face of such tremendous sacrifice, that precious saint of God was undaunted, and she exclaimed, "Oh that I had a thousand sons to give to Jesus Christ."

From "Signs of Life"

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I’m sure most of you have read the New Testament story of the demoniac in the tomb. He was a wretched fellow. His wild shrieks and frenzied actions terrified the people around him. But Jesus came and commanded the evil spirits to leave him. Instantly the troubled man was free. And we are told he arose and went into the city showing forth the change Jesus had brought about. And the Bible says, "The people marveled."

Christmas Evans, a great Welsh preacher of an earlier generation, imagines how it must have been when he drew near his home. Evans imagines the children looking out a window and seeing a man coming up the road. "Mother," they cry, "father’s coming." The mother hurries to the window, looks out, runs to the door and locks it. "Children, keep still, your father is a maniac."

But the children, peaking through the curtain say, "Don’t worry, mother, it’s not father. Father used to come bounding up the way. This man is walking. Father used to come home shrieking. This man comes quietly." But the mother says, "Keep still! It might be your father."

You can almost hear their hearts beating when they hear footsteps on the porch and see the door latch turn. But it’s locked. Then there’s a gentle rapping on the door. And she hears a soft voice she hasn’t heard in years. It was the voice she heard when he asked her to be his bride. It was the voice he used when their first child was born.

"Mary, please open the door. I‘ve met Jesus."

Christmas Evans says she sprang to the door, threw it open and when he came in he brought heaven with him.

From "Signs of Life"

***

In one of his sermons, J. Wilbur Chapman, told an instructive story. Paganini, the great violinist, was seized as a suspect and put in prison. To taunt him, his jailers gave him a violin with only one string. But by persistent practice, he acquired an execution so masterful he was able to play on one string more beautifully than other violinists could upon four strings.

When Paganini died his violin was taken to Genoa, Italy, where it was placed in a glass case. Over time, it was discovered the wood was beginning to rot. It appeared the violin would not last much longer. Leading scientists were asked the best means of preserving this national treasure. After extensive research, the scientists decided the instrument needed to be used, and henceforth it was to be taken out of the glass case several times a year and played by a gifted violinist. The wood would feel the vibrations generated by the music of a master and the decay would be arrested.

From "Signs of Life"

***

High in the Swiss Alps there’s a monument erected to the memory of a guide who perished while attempting to lead a group of mountain climbers up a treacherous cliff. The simple inscription carved on the stone is as great a compliment as could be paid to anyone. It reads:

"He Died Climbing.

A noble tribute to a heroic man. He perished in the line of duty. His face was forward. His destination up.
May you so live that when you face your God and your Christ your record might read:

"He perished in the line of duty.
His face was forward.
His destination up.

He died climbing."

From "Signs of Life"

***

In one of D.L. Moody’s sermons there is a moving story of a man who came to the great evangelist seeking the way of salvation. Moody opened his Bible to my text and pointed out these words, "Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy ladened . . . " The man said, "But, Mister Moody, I’m a drunkard." "It does not say," replied Moody, "‘Come unto me all ye that are not drunkards."

The man said, "But mister Moody, I’ve abandoned my wife and my children." "That is a dreadful sin," replied Moody, "but it does not say ‘Come unto me all ye that have not abandoned wife and children." The man continued, "But, mister Moody, I’ve stolen. I’ve been in jail." "I am sorry to hear that," Moody said softly, "but it does not say "‘Come unto me all ye that are not thieves and have not been in prison.’ It simply says, "‘Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy ladened . . . ’ And, sir, if I understand what you have just told, me, this gracious invitation includes you!"

From "The Savior’s Invitation"

***

It was in a Denver mission where this mighty man of God was scheduled to preach. Just before the sermon they called for testimonies. One after another men and women stood up with joy-filled faces to testify what Jesus had done for them and meant to them.

Finally, an old woman rose to her feet. Her dress was grayish brown with age. Her hat was torn and wisps of her hair stuck out through the holes. Her face was lined and aged and tired. Looking up at the superintendent, who was leading the meeting she said,

"It was ten years ago tonight that you led me to Jesus, Jimmie.
Do you remember?"

The superintendent smiled and nodded his head.

"Do you remember what I was before I came to Jesus, Jimmie?"

The superintendent bowed his head and refused to answer.

"It’s all right, Jimmie. They know all about me here. I was a streetwalker. A hooker. The cheapest kind of trash. But you loved me, Jimmie. You invited me to come in off the street and told me about Jesus."

"I didn’t respond at first. But you were patient with me, Jimmie, and finally I opened my heart to Jesus. And he came in! He forgave me. He cleaned me up and gave me a reason to live.

"Life’s been hard, Jimmie. Sometimes, when the weather is good, I can get a job here or there. Washing windows or doing a laundry. And when that happens I have food to eat and a place to sleep.

"But there are other days, Jimmie. Days when the weather isn’t good. When the wind is cold and the snow is deep. On those days nobody wants their windows washed or their laundry done. And when that happens, I don’t have anything to eat and I have to sleep in a flophouse.

"But I want you to know, Jimmie, even then -- even then -- before I go to sleep, I get down on my knees beside my bed and I say, ‘Jesus, I’m old. And I’m sick. And I’m hungry. And I’m tired. But Jesus, I love you. I ain’t much. But Jesus, all I am is yours for keeps.’"

Beloved, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Jesus has the power to take the weakest, vilest, most unappealing soul, cleanse it with his blood, fill it with his Spirit and bind it to himself with the strongest bonds of love and loyalty. He can keep it pure and clean, so no matter how hard the trials, how trying the tribulations, how dark the way -- the victory is assured.

From "The Savior’s Invitation"

***

One day, in the Sante Fe Railroad yards in Topeka, Kansas, during the lunch hour a young Christian was reading his Bible. A fellow worker came by, and, seeing what he was doing, said,

"What on earth are you doing? Surely you don’t believe that book?"

The young Christian replied,

"Well, to tell you the truth, I’ve just now read a verse I don’t know whether to believe or not."

With an arrogant sneer on his face the agnostic said,

"I thought so. What is that verse?"

The young Christian replied,

"Romans 5:8 -- ‘While we were yet sinners, Christ died for the ungodly.’ To tell you the truth, sir, that seems too good to be true."

From "The Greatest News Story in History"

***

A young mother who was confronted with Rom.5:8 said,

"I can’t understand such love. I have two children and I wouldn’t give one of them for the best friend I have in the world. And yet, this verse says God gave his only Son for his worst enemy. I can’t understand such love."

And I say to you, beloved, who can? And yet that is the love story of God’s word.

Beloved, you may go to hell unsaved, but you will never go to hell unloved.

"For God’s love no end nor measure knows,

No change can change its course,

Eternally the same it flows,

From one eternal source."

From "The Greatest News Story in History"

***

I think you know the story, but let me call to your remembrance how Jesus came into this world of sinners, not to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved. He lived a sinless, perfect life. He spent himself in healing the sick, feeding the hungry, giving sight to the blind, and hearing to the deaf. He preached good news to the poor, and deliverance to the oppressed. And yet, despite all of this, he was betrayed and subjected to a mock trial before Pilate.

When it became clear to him that there was no evidence against Jesus, Pilate turned to the crowd of onlookers and asked,

"What do you want me to do with Jesus, who is called the Christ?"

The people, whipped into a feverish frenzy by the chief priests cried,

"Crucify him! Crucify him! Give us Barabbas the criminal, but crucify Jesus the Christ."

Thinking the bloodlust of the Jews would be satisfied if they saw Jesus tortured, Pilate gave the order for Jesus to be flogged . The governor’s soldiers stripped him of his outer garment, and, using a whip tipped with bits of stone or metal, they beat him until his flesh was ripped and torn.

After twisting together a crown of thorns they set it on his head. They put a staff in his right hand and a scarlet robe on his bleeding back, and they taunted him in a cruel Roman army game called "king for a day." "Hail, Jesus, king of the Jews, " they cried with a sneer as they knelt before him in mock obedience. They spit on him and using the staff, they struck him on the head again and again.

But even that did not quench the thirst of the Jews for the blood of Jesus. Knowing an injustice was about to be done, Pilate called for a bowl of water and washed his hands in front of the crowd.

"I am innocent of this man’s blood," he said, and turned Jesus over to the Jews.

They ripped off the scarlet robe and taking the wooden cross which had been prepared for Barabbas the criminal, they put it upon the shoulders of Jesus the Christ. And thus began the most infamous death march in history.

Along the dusty roads of old Jerusalem it came. There the people ridiculed him. Mocked him. Called him all manner of wicked names.

As he struggled along, weakened by pain and the loss of blood, Jesus fell. As he lay there, pinned to the ground by the weight of the cross, the dirt mingled with the blood and sweat to form mud cakes upon his face, and Jesus Christ, the sinless Son of God, was ugly to look upon.

Sensing Jesus was exhausted, Simon, the Cyrene, stepped forward and picked up the cross. Simon was a black man, and one reason I have always had great love in my heart for our black brothers and sisters, is because one of them helped carry the cross of Christ.

When they reached the summit of the hill called Calvary, they stretched him out upon the cross, and, placing nails in his hands and feet, the hammer began to fall, beating out the hate, hate, hate of men for God. After they had secured him there, so the weight of his body would not pull him free, they lifted him up. For a moment the cross teetered between earth and sky, and then, with a sickening thud, they plunged the cross with its sacred burden into a hole.

As he hung there like a bunch of purple rags, Jesus cried,

"Father, forgive them. They don’t know what they’re doing."

Later, as the weight of the world of sin descended upon his innocent soul, he cried in anguish, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

As the hours passed he said,

"I thirst."

One of the bystanders ran and got a sponge, filled it with wine vinegar, put it on a stick and offered it to Jesus to drink. When he received the drink, Jesus cried out in a loud voice,

"It is finished!"

And he gave up the ghost and died.

From "The Greatest News Story in History"

***

August Comte, the French philosopher, was talking one day with Thomas Carlyle, a noted Christian. Mr. Comte boasted he was going to start a new system of thought to be known as Positivism which he predicted would eventually replace Christianity.

Thomas Carlyle listened very carefully to the plan, and then replied,

"Very good, Mr. Comte, very good indeed. Now all you have to do is live as Christ lived. Speak as Christ spoke. Die as Christ died. Be raised again as Christ was raised again. Get the world to believe you are still alive. And then, maybe, your new religion will have a chance to get on."

Thomas Carlyle was right. The priceless ingredient in Christianity is the person of Jesus Christ. The priceless ingredient within the person of Jesus Christ is his deity. To accept the high moral quality of his humanity, while rejecting his deity, is to become involved in logical contradictions and moral inconsistencies which are impossible to reconcile.

From "Why Jesus?"

***

Years ago a prize was given to the person who could identify the name or word around which clustered the greatest joys and sweetest memories. Some gave the word "mother," enlarging upon her tender loving care in infancy, her unwearied toil and patience in childhood and adolescence. Others thought "home" with its joys and comforts, it's precious fireside memories, was the word most dear to them. Others said "heaven" should be the prizewinning word, and they spoke of its everlasting glories and never fading joys, the fellowship of angels and the companionship of saints. But the one who carried off the prize said,

"Jesus is the name above all other names, the word above all other words."

She was right. Jesus is the most precious word to ever roll through finite minds or pass by the tongues of men and of angels. Truly, Jesus is the priceless ingredient.

From "Why Jesus?"

***

It is said that Paliaro, a faithful herald of Christ, who lived in Spain around the time of Luther, was arraigned before the officers of the church at Rome and asked,

"What is the first means of salvation?" He answered, "Christ."

"Well, what is the second means of salvation?" "Christ."

"And what is the third?" And Paliaro gave the same unflinching answer, "Christ!"

But because he gave the Christ of God his rightful place and made nothing of rites or rituals or ceremonies or church, the leaders of that inquisition cried,

"Away with him! He isn’t fit to live."

And they sent him home to wear a martyr’s crown.

But Paliaro realized the truth of what one has since said,

"Without the Way there is no going. Without the Truth there is no knowing. Without the Life there is no living."

How wonderful, then, to be able to sing with the saints of all the ages,

"Our Lord, our life, our rest, our shield,

Our rock, our food, our light,

Each thought of thee doth constant yield

Unchanging, fresh delight."

Oh, my friend, do you know him?

From "Why Jesus?"

***

Several years ago I was conducting a crusade in southern California. The pastor of the church invited us to go to Knots Berry Farm as his guests. You have heard of this world famous dining room. I’ll not elaborate on the magnificent quality of their food accept to say that there was just one thing wrong: I couldn’t get enough of it!

They have many historic relics around the gardens which extend for several acres, but of supreme interest to me that day was a world famous painting of Jesus which is on display in a little garden chapel.

I had heard so much about it I wanted to view it alone. So I excused myself from the group with whom I was traveling, and made my way across the grounds until I came to a little chapel.

There was no one present but me, and yet, as I walked down the aisle and took my seat, I was overcome by the feeling that I was not alone. And, looking up, I saw him there -- standing before me -- Jesus of Nazareth.

It was just a picture. And yet I was transfixed, so real was his presence. His eyes were closed, but even so the beauty of his face completely captivated me. I saw him as I had never seen him before.

I saw the pathos, the sorrow, the agony of loneliness in the stoop of his shoulders. I saw the tenderness, the meekness, the love in his gently outstretched hands.

I saw the regal bearing of the King of Kings in his noble head. I felt the biting pain of the cruel whip, the stinging hate of the crown of thorns, the nails, the spear in his side. I saw him there. I felt his heart throb. I tell you, I saw him there, just as you see me.

And then, a strange thing happened. As I sat there transfixed, the sweet strains of some far-off heavenly music filling my ears, the lights changed, his eyes slowly opened and he saw me! He saw me. He saw my sin, my shame, my sad failure to measure up. He saw me just as I am. And I could only drop to my knees and pray,

"Lord Jesus, I love thee,

I know thou art mine,

For thee all the follies

Of sin I resign."

From "Why Jesus?"

***

A short time ago, the mild disorder of Boston’s downtown traffic was turned into pandemonium by the wild scream of a woman who raced into the middle of the street and pointed frantically at the swaying figure of a young man perched precariously on the ledge of a hotel window nine floors above. According to Time magazine, which later reported the incident, the young man’s name was Louis Turini and he was a boy who had not learned to adjust himself to the rigors of army life.

But there was more to it than that. Louis had grown up in the slums, where life is cheap and the dignity of man is a tragic mockery. The divorce of his parents had kindled the fires of insecurity which gripped him, and now he had become enveloped in a holocaust of complexities and uncertainties common to our times.

As he teetered on the ledge, high above the street, a curious crowd began to gather. Louis knew that he was not ready to die; in fact, he would like to live if only he could be sure it was worth- while. Men and women came to the window close to where the youth was standing and pleaded with him to change his mind. A salesman, a bellhop, a detective and a mother with a blind baby all urged him to live. The detective said softly, "Come in." Louis answered, "Why should I?"

On the concrete pavement below 10,000 spectators looked up at the solitary figure in this strange drama. "As time passed," reports the magazine, "an excited nervous tension seemed to build up among the craning throng. ‘Jump,’ they yelled. Yes, believe it or not, for more than an hour the crowd chanted morbidly, ‘Jump! Jump!’ One girl said, ‘I’m the gory type. I want to see him jump.’ "

Finally, the minister of a Boston church stepped to the window and began talking quietly to the bewildered boy. For a time the youth wavered between life and death. Then, after what seemed like years, Louis made his decision and he scrambled through the window into the room.

When I read that story in Time magazine, it struck me that here was an incident symbolic of the dilemma facing modern youth. Oh, most of us have never gone so far as to climb out onto a physical ledge nine floors up, but all of us have faced the frustrations of a world gone mad that has placed us on a ledge no less real over a precipice no less destructive.

From "Youth on a Ledge"

***

A friend was trying to lead a young soldier to accept the Savior. "There, lad, read the words for yourself," he said, pointing to John 3:16. The young soldier read slowly, "For God so loved the world that his gave his --" and there he hesitated, stumbling a bit at the next word. Whether the light was bad or his sight was poor I don’t know, but he then continued "He gave his only-- his only-- his only forgotten son." The friend who was with him interrupted, "Stop, lad, you’ve got it wrong." And then he paused, for he suddenly realized that the soldier boy had stumbled on an awful truth. "His only forgotten son." How tragically true it is that for thousands of people today God’s only begotten son has become God’s forgotten son.

From "Youth on a Ledge"

***

Merv Rosell tells the story of the great organ in Freiburg Germany. So magnificent was this instrument that on the day it was completed it was acclaimed to be one of the wonders of the world. A special caretaker was commissioned to guard it carefully.

One day the old custodian was summoned by a knock at the chapel door. When he opened the door, he found a young stranger, weary and dirty from the dust of many miles of travel. At first the custodian thought the young man wanted food and shelter.

"Can I give you food to eat and a place to sleep?" he asked.

The young man shook his head.

"No, I do not come asking for food or shelter. I come to make a great request of you. Sir, I would like to have the key so that I might play the Freiburg Organ."

The custodian raised his faithful old hands in horror and said,

"I can’t allow that. Only the great masters are allowed to play this instrument. If I should permit your hands to soil its keys I would lose my position and my honor."

The young stranger pleaded with the old man who held the organ keys and then finally, seeming to have failed, he turned to leave. The stoop in his shoulders and look of dejection in his face got to the heart of the old custodian who tottered after him and said,

"All right son, all right. If you promise never to tell a soul that I allowed your unknown fingers to play the Freiburg Organ, I will give you the key."

The young man promised and the old custodian led him down the aisle. The young man slipped into place with surprising ease, turned the key in the lock and pushed back the cover of the precious organ. Merv Rosell describes how, a moment, his fingers hovered over the keys almost afraid to touch them for fear of harming them. The custodian went back to his dusting but he did not dust for long. For suddenly the organ burst into song like a bird released from long confinement, as the sensitive fingers of the young stranger moved over black and white manuals and stops, leaving a melody that held the caretaker in tranced.

Moments, musical moments spun by, painting the sunsets of every season until the soul of the young artist lay exhausted and satisfied. Then his ears called his eyes away from the beloved instrument to the form of the old custodian kneeling beside him.

"Who are you and what is your name that you should play this organ so magnificently?"

"Oh, it matters little. It matters not at all. But if you wish to know, my name is Felix Mendelssohn."

"Oh what have I done," cried the custodian? " The master of the organ was here and I withheld the key."

From "Youth on a Ledge"

***

One night D.L. Moody returned to his home following a meeting and his wife asked how things had gone? "Wonderfully," Mr. Moody replied, "we had two and a half converts." "Do you mean two men and a boy," his wife asked? "No," Mr. Moody replied, "two boys and a man."

From "The Vantage Point of Youth"

***

The other day I was privileged to spend some quality time with my father. Our hectic schedules don’t allow us a lot of time together so, when the opportunity presents itself, I try to make the most of it. As he and I chatted that day about the Open Door Rescue Mission he founded and directed for thirty years, dad shared some of his dreams. Some of the things he would like to get done. Some of the goals he would like to accomplish for God. Then he stopped, and with a tear in his eye, he said, "Oh, son, if only I were young again."

"If only I were young again." Sometimes, as in the case of my father, we hear those words coming from the lips of people who have given their best to God and still have unfulfilled dreams. Unmet goals. On the other hand, the complainers are often people who look back upon their lives and see time and talents wasted. Opportunities for service cast aside. And now, too late, we hear them say, "If only I were young again. How different it would be."

From "The Vantage Point of Youth"

***

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"

***

Young people, the time to begin reaching out for Christ is while you are young. God is always working thru young people.

Thomas Helwys was scarcely 30 years old when he became the founder of the First Baptist Church in England.

Roger Williams was no older when he established the historic Rhode Island Colony and laid down the great principle:

"For any man to be punished for any matter of his conscience

is persecution."

Adoniram Judson was 24, Anne Haseltine, his heroic wife, only 23, when they went to India as missionaries.

Hudson Taylor began his work in China at the age of 21.

Charles Wesley composed some of his greatest hymns when he was still in his teens.

John Stone was only 26 when he gave the world that stirring hymn:

"The Church’s One Foundation Is Jesus Christ Her Lord."

Abel, Jacob, Joseph, Gideon, Samuel, Sampson, David, Daniel, John the Baptist, John the Beloved, Mark, Stephen were all young men who took an outward look in their youth.

Christ himself was young. As a matter of fact, he was seven years my senior when he died upon the cross.

From "The Vantage Point of Youth"

***

When Yogi Berra came up with the Yankees, they really didn’t know what to do with him. His legs were too short to be an outfielder. He was too clumsy to be a good infielder. But he was such a terrific hitter they thought they had to use him. So they decided to make a catcher out of him.

But he had trouble handling wild pitches and was charged with a lot of "pass balls." They got Bill Dickey, one of the greatest catchers of all time, to coach him and, throughout the season he developed until eventually Yogi Berra led the Yankees into the World Series where he caught flawlessly without a single "pass ball."

After the World Series some reporters were talking to him about this and they said, "Yogi, how did you overcome the problem of wild pitches so easily?" Yogi said, "Whenever I saw a bad ball coming I remembered something my coach said,

‘When you see a wild pitch coming, get down on your knees.’"

From "The Vantage Point of Youth"

***

If you were to put into one word the essence, the heart and soul, the hard core meaning of Christianity what would that one word be? I was asked that question several years ago by a young exchange student from India. We had been traveling together on the plane from San Francisco to Saint Louis and, during the long hours of the night, our conversation had turned to a discussion of the Christian faith.

As the great plane made its final turn for landing, with a real student’s love for profound simplicity my young friend asked this question:

"Of all the words you have used tonight to tell me the story of Jesus, what is the one word above all other which sums up the meaning of Christianity? What is the one word I can carry with me? The one word that says, ‘This is it! This is the essence of Christianity!’"

Well, it was a big order. For a moment my mind went blank. Then, like a flash, the Holy Spirit came with heaven-sent inspiration, and I heard myself saying --

"Easter!"

Now, think about it for a moment. Where else can we find a word that really gathers together and focuses the essentials of our faith? Where else can we find a word that describes what we mean when we talk about the triumphant Christ? Where else can we find a word that truly puts it all together? For Christianity is essentially a religion of resurrection.

From "The Wrong Side of Easter"

***

We tend to look at life in terms of horizons. We look to the right or the left, but the horizon is always there, marking the end of what we can see. There was a time when men thought the world was flat. They believed that if you went far enough you would just drop off the edge into an eternal abyss.

But one day a man named Christopher Columbus set sail in a small craft and went beyond that horizon men thought marked the end of things, and discovered the world is round. When he came back to share the things he had seen and learned, there were those who called him mad. But there were others who took him at his word. They believed, for Christopher Columbus had been there and he knew.

When I was a small boy growing up in the San Francisco Bay area, I enjoyed going to the beach. I was always fascinated by the sight of the ships as they would sail across the bay, and through the Golden Gate, across the blue waters of the Pacific beyond the horizon to the west. As I watched the ships sail out of sight, I couldn’t help but wonder, what lies beyond the horizon? Is there more?

Then, one day I met a man who had sailed on one of those ships. He had gone beyond that horizon and had come back again. He told me thrilling stories of the open sea. Of huge islands in the midst of the waters. Of strange cultures and societies of people on the other side of the globe. I hadn’t seen any of those places, and I haven’t seen many of them yet. But I believed, for that man had been there and he knew.

Then there were other days when my buddies and I would take a sack lunch and climb the foothills in back of our home and, turning to the east, we would be greeted by another horizon formed by the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. These, too, marked the end of what we could see, and we would sit around in a circle and wonder what lay beyond the horizon. Was there more?

Then, one day a family friend came to visit us. He had taken a model "T" Ford and had crossed that horizon. He had gone beyond those mountains all the way to the Atlantic seaboard, filled up a sack with sand, turned around and came back again. I remember as vividly as if it were yesterday, the Sunday afternoon when we sat in our tiny living room warming ourselves before a crackling fire, the bay area rain beating down on the roof. I listened with intense fascination as he told of the great open plains and prairies. Of mountains that were higher than the ones I could see. Of the mighty Mississippi and Missouri Rivers. Of sprawling cities clogged with people, of towering skyscrapers which reached as many as 25 stories into the sky!

I hadn’t seen any of those things, and I haven’t seen many of them yet. But I believed, for that man had been there and he knew.

The great truth Paul has been pointing to in our text is the fact that for every one of us there comes a time when we must stand on our faith alone. A time when someone we love walks through the valley of the shadow across that line which marks the end of all we can see. And, being human, we cannot help but wonder, is there more?

Paul says: "Yes!" The resurrection is too good not to be true. And I know a man who went beyond that horizon we call death and he came back again. He told of a place, not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. A place where death and darkness are known no more. A place where tears are wiped away. A place where sorrow and sickness are forever vanquished. A place where God and truth and righteousness are forever on the throne. I haven’t seen that place called heaven, but I believe, for that man, Jesus, has been there and he knows.

And, on this Easter morning, His words have tremendous meaning for all of us. For Jesus said:

"Let not your heart be troubled, you believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you I go to prepare a place for you? And when I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will receive you unto myself, that where I am you may be also."

From "The Wrong Side of Easter"

***

Oh, I know there are those who scoff at the idea of faith as a means of knowing anything, let alone God. They call it illogical and unscientific. But the truth is, we all live by faith in one form or another.

Every time you get into your car and proceed down the street -- there is an exercise in faith. Faith in the tires that they will withstand the rugged torture of the road. Faith in the brakes that they will stop you in the eventuality of a crisis. Faith in the power of the engine to get you from where you are, to where you want to be.

Every time you write a check and cash it at the bank -- there is a transaction of faith. At least on the banker’s part, if your checking account looks anything like mine! Actually, were it not for faith in one another and certain economic principles, our entire free-enterprise system would crumble over night.

Every time you walk into a darkened room, flick a switch on the wall and light comes into the room -- there is an exercise in faith. Faith in electricity which, in and of itself is something of a mystery. To be sure, there are people who can tell us about electricity. They can describe its attributes. They can share their observations of how it works. But no one knows all there is to know about electricity, yet we still exercise faith in it.

The same can be said of your questions about God. I don’t know all there is to know about God. I can’t answer all your questions about God. I can tell you a little bit about him. I can describe some of his attributes. I can share my personal observations of how he works. And, I can assure you that if, by faith, you receive his Son as your Savior and thereby get connected up with him, God will cause light to come into your life.

From "The Vision Splendid"

***

I heard God speak to me on what some have called "the crossroads of the world," State and Madison Streets in Chicago, Illinois which, at that time, was the busiest intersection in America. I was in the Windy City on business for my freshman class in college. It was the first time I had been in the big city alone, and I walked along State Street in awe, almost reverence, as I stared up at the magnificent structures of stone and steel which towered above me.

Suddenly, I was brought back to earth by a shout. I looked down the street and I saw a crowd of people gathering around someone or something on the corner of State and Madison streets.

Being young and curious, I ran to the corner to see what was happening. By the time I got there, a fairly large crowd had gathered. I couldn’t see anything from the edge of the crowd so I elbowed my way through until I stood at the center of the circle. There lay the body of a man whose life had been instantly snuffed out by an unseen force. In one hand he held an unlit cigarette. In the other, a box of matches.

I moved closer and gazed into his face. There I saw a sight which left an indelible mark upon my memory. His mouth and eyes were both open. His mouth was twisted with the after effects of alcohol. His eyes, glazed with the cold horror of death to an unsaved soul, stared into heaven as if pleading for mercy from the God who had given him life and had now, so instantly, taken it away. I stood there for half an hour. I saw the Chicago Fire Department roar up with their artificial respirators and try to arouse some faint spark of life. But it was useless. He was gone.

As I stood there amid that throng of people on the busiest corner in the world, God spoke to me and I heard him say, "Son, souls are dying, do you care?" I don’t believe that man realized as he walked down State Street that afternoon, took out a cigarette and prepared to light it, I don’t believe he realized that within ten seconds he would be in eternity. But it happened. I don’t believe those people walking along the sidewalk realized the man with whom they were brushing elbows would, within ten steps, be in eternity. But it happened. I don’t believe that cop directing traffic realized the man walking toward him would drop dead at his feet. But it happened.

And that day, as I stood at "the crossroad of the world," God spoke to me and I heard him say, "Son, souls are dying, do you care? Do you really care?" Well, beloved, I do care. That’s why I have given my life to spreading the gospel. That’s why I am here, speaking to you. I do care that souls are dying, and that your soul, if you are here without Christ, is in jeopardy.

From "The Vision Splendid"

***

My father told me this story and, by the way, I have seen God in my father, too. He is a wonderful man and God has used him in a marvelous way. Dad has more faith in his little finger than I have in my entire frame. My hope is that some day, in some way, I will achieve a small part of his greatness. In the eyes of men my father isn’t much. But, in the eyes of God he is great and he is rich, and I long to be like him.

Dad told me how one night he was going to church and parked his car on the hill where that church is located. He started across the street when he saw a man staggering down the sidewalk past the church. He stopped to watch him. Dad had worked with men like that for many years. God has used him to feed and clothe nearly three million of them. He knew them and loved them as few people can or do.

Dad said that suddenly the man stopped and cocked his head to one side as if he were listening to something. My father put a hand to his ear so he could listen, too. Out into the night came the words of a song which the congregation was singing,

"On a hill far away stood an old rugged cross,

the emblem of suffering and shame.

But I love that old cross, where the dearest and best

for a world of lost sinners was slain."

Dad said the man took his hat from off his head, placed it over his heart and stood there reeling in a drunken stupor as the music inside the church continued,

"So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross,

‘till my trophies at last I lay down,

I will cling to the old rugged cross,

and exchange it someday for a crown."

As the music stopped, the man placed his hat back on his head and, pressing his fingers to his lips, he blew a kiss toward heaven, turned around and went back up the hill.

I don’t know where he was going that night. Maybe he was going down to the corner saloon to try to drown his sorrows in drink. Maybe he was going a few blocks up farther to the bridge which crosses a river and try to end it all. I don’t know where he was going. But I do know that that night, as he staggered down the hill of life, God spoke to him in music. He heard and heeded and God turned him around and sent him back up the hill of life to start again.

From "The Vision Splendid"

***

I have felt God in the hour of sorrow as I stood beside the bed of my mother and watched her make a sweet entrance into her heavenly home. Mom had been sick for many months, a victim of pancreatic cancer which ate away her body until she weighed less than sixty pounds when she died. A few days before she went to be with the Lord, I was scheduled to begin a crusade in a city several hundred miles away. Sensing I might not see her again this side of heaven, I went to her room, got down on my knees beside her bed, and asked her to forgive me for all the stupid things a boy will sometimes do to hurt his mom.

She smiled and said, "Oh son, I forgave you for that a long time ago." Then I said, "Goodbye, mom." She took my big old hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. I could barely feel it, but I am sure she used every ounce of strength she had. Then she said, "Son, it’s not goodbye, its just goodnight, and I’ll see you in the morning." Thank God, there is a morning coming when I’ll see my mother again.

From "The Vision Splendid"

***

During the last few months of my seminary training, I worked afternoons and evenings at a service station to put my wife and myself through school. One night about a quarter to nine as I was preparing to close up, two little boys about nine and twelve came into the station and asked me to fix their bike.

I was surprised at their being out on the streets alone at that hour of the night and inquired about their parents. The older boy, who was the spokesman of the two, explained that they hadn’t seen their father for many months. He had a drinking problem and one night, in a drunken stupor, he walked out the front door and never came back again.

"What about your mother?" I asked. "Isn’t she home?" The smaller of the two boys started to cry, but his older brother squared his shoulders and looked me directly in the eye. "Yeah, mister. She’s home. She’s in bed with a sailor!"

Well, I don’t know what you believe, but I believe those two little boys were lost. Lost through the carelessness of a drunken father and a harlot mother. You see, I’m just old-fashioned enough to believe when God gives a man or a woman a little bundle of life for their very own, he expects them to be a father or mother to it. If that child is not raised in the fear and admonition of God, I believe our Lord will hold those parents accountable for that. And it’s tragic to contemplate the fact that there are many boys and girls in this city who are lost through the carelessness and spiritual indifference of another.

From "Lost and Found"

***

Several months ago I visited the Sonoma State Hospital. There I saw some of the most pathetic sights I have ever seen. There was one little girl lying helplessly in a crib. To a casual observer she was a child. But I learned to my dismay, she was approaching adolescence.

There was another child, a boy, the doctor said, though it was hard to tell from outward appearances. His body was twisted and deformed and his head was more than twice the size of his body. A hydrocephalic I believe the doctor said. But most certainly, a sight to make the angels weep.

Out in the garden there were men working. I say they were men, and they were in physical stature and years, but in mind they were babies. They had failed to grow up mentally.

As I rode home that evening with my friend Dr. Ralph Knudsen, Professor of Old Testament at the seminary where I took my training, I commented on the awful tragedy of the things we had seen. He was silent for a long time. We must have driven ten or fifteen miles and not a word was said. And then he answered, "Yes, Johnnie, but there is still a sadder sight."

I searched his face in an effort to discover what he meant. Then he added,

"It’s become so common it arouses little attention and even less interest. It’s the problem of the undeveloped soul. The Christian upon whom spiritual infantilism has laid its hand, so the character which was promised in the hour of conversion fails to materialize."

From "The Peril of Becoming a Christian"

***

I will never forget Dr. Bob Moyer’s story of how, one day, as he was riding on a train between speaking engagements, he noticed a young man acting strangely. He would run his hand over the plush-lined seats and as he did, he kept saying, "Wonderful. Wonderful." Then he would stare out of the window at the passing countryside and, as he did so he kept saying, "Wonderful. Wonderful." He picked up a newspaper, fingered it gingerly and said, "Wonderful. Wonderful." He walked up and down the Pullman car examining every detail, all the time repeating one word, "Wonderful. Wonderful."

Finally, Dr. Moyer, overcome with interest, left his seat and sat down beside the young man. "I hope you’re not offended," he said, "but tell me, why do you keep repeating the word ‘Wonderful?’ Do you feel well? Are you all right?" The young man smiled broadly and said, "I guess I do appear to be acting strangely, but up until today I was blind. Several months ago they began a series of operations on my eyes. Today they removed the last bandage and, for the first time in my life, I can see. Look there! See that little stream and old rail fence? Isn’t it wonderful? And look! There’s a farmer with a team of horses. Isn’t it wonderful?"

Dr. Moyer describes how, as the train slowed for the next station he went back to his seat. The young man gathered up his baggage and, as the train came to a stop, took one last look around and said, "Wonderful. Wonderful."

Moyer continues --

"I watched him as he alighted from the train. I saw a lovely young lady wave at him tentatively, and then, when he waved back, run into his arms. I watched them embrace for one long moment, and then I saw him push her out to arms length, hold her there as he looked at her for the first time. Then I saw his lips move, and they whispered, "Wonderful. Wonderful.’

"The train began to move, but somehow all else was blotted out by the sight of that young man as he beheld his sweetheart for the first time. Throughout the balance of the day as I sat looking out the window, and through the night as I lay in my berth, it seemed as though the wheels of the train were singing as they clicked over the rails, and the word they sang was ‘Won-der-ful. Won-der-ful. Won-der-ful. Won-der-ful.’"

Truly, this is a wonderful salvation. It surpasses our finite understanding. It is glorious in its manifold manifestations. Blinded eyes are open. Sin-stained hearts are cleansed. Broken lives are healed. There is new peace. A new power for today. A new promise of eternal life tomorrow. Thanks be to God for such a precious gospel, such a glorious hope, such a regal Savior. Saved by the blood of the Lamb. "Swept and clean."

From "The Peril of Becoming a Christian"

***

I used to wonder why, on occasion, when I preached there was absolutely no power. I learned the reason from an old minister friend of mine. One day I asked him why it was that sometimes when I preached there was a great outpouring of blessing and, at other times, there was a veritable famine. He said, "John, have you ever tried to breathe out three times while only breathing in once?" "No." "Try it." I did and found it was impossible. "It can’t be done," I said. He nodded and smiled. "There’s your answer."

From "The Peril of Becoming a Christian"

***

When I was a little boy, I had a great fear of high places. One day, when I was about seven or eight years old, my father was putting a new roof on our house. It was quite warm and after awhile he asked me to bring him a drink of water. I went indoors, got a glass, filled it full of cool, refreshing water, took it outside and started up the ladder to deliver the water to my dad.

About halfway up I made the mistake of looking down. Although I was only a few feet off the ground, I was overcome by a paralyzing fear. I couldn’t move. My father, who was watching, saw my plight and called out to me,

"Look up, son. You’ll be all right if you just look up."

Oh, how hard it was for me to take my eyes off of my perilous plight. But, when I finally looked up, I saw a smile of reassurance in my father’s face and I knew I’d be all right.

You get the point. There are many trying experiences ahead, and if you try to meet them in your own strength, you are likely to fall. But, if you trust in God and fix your eyes on him, you’ll see a great big smile of reassurance in your heavenly Father’s face and you’ll be all right if you just look up!

From "The Peril of Becoming a Christian"

***

This was brought clearly to my attention during a citywide campaign I was conducting in Merced, California. It has always been my practice to speak to each person who comes forward in my meetings, if only to offer a word of encouragement. Sometimes this is impossible, but on this particular evening, I had been privileged to speak to each one even though there had been a score or more who responded to the invitation.

As I finished talking with the last person, I noticed a young lady standing off to the side. I could see she was troubled with something, so I asked her if I could be of assistance. She answered,

"Yes, Johnnie, you can. I have been a member of this church for nearly five years. I have always heard good preaching here. Our pastor is a real man of God. But I have always wondered whether or not I am really saved. This week I’ve heard you say it is possible to know beyond any shadow of a doubt that we have been saved and I wish you’d tell me how I can be sure."

I opened my Bible to this verse which is our text tonight and started through it. I pointed out that "whosoever" included her, and that if she would "call upon the name of the Lord," she would "be saved."

She looked at me for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought, and asked "Do you mean all I have to do is call?" My answer was "Yes." She added hastily, "That seems so simple, so superfluous." I answered, "It is simple. Praise God for that! But, it is not superfluous." And, as I talked with her, as I shall with you in a moment, she came into a thrilling assurance of her soul’s salvation and went out into the night, her heart singing with joy.

From "The Offer of Salvation"

***

R.A.Torrey was famous for this story. He told it again and again. And, as you hear it, I believe that you will understand why.

Mr. Torrey was holding a revival in Scotland. I have forgotten the city’s name. He mentions it. He stayed at an inn one night by special invitation. It wasn’t very large. It was a family hotel, comparatively small. When he got ready to go to bed, Dr. Torrey suggested that, inasmuch as it was a family hotel, the servants and guests should come together for family worship. The innkeeper went around and knocked on the guest’s doors, told them R.A. Torrey was there and would like to speak to them. They all gathered together in the lobby of the hotel.

Dr. Torrey turned to the innkeeper and said, "Are they all here?" The innkeeper looked around, hesitated for a moment, and then said, "They are all here." Torrey led them in prayer, read some scripture and called on the innkeeper to pray. Then they went about their business.

As they started to leave, Torrey said to the hotel man calling him by name, "Are you sure they were all here?" "Well, no, but I couldn’t stop to explain. The scullery maid was in the kitchen. I wanted her to come, but she said she was too dirty. She had been scrubbing pots and pans."

"Is she still in the kitchen?" Torrey asked, and the innkeeper nodded.

R. A. Torrey went back to the kitchen. The girl looked up at him, smiled, and went on with her work. The great preacher drew a stool to her side. "Daughter," he asked, "are you a Christian?"

"No." "Do you go to church?" "Never." "Have you read your Bible?" "No." "Would you like to be a Christian?" "I don’t know how." "If I tell you how, would you like to be a Christian?"

"Yes." "Here’s what I want you to do. Read your New Testament and pray this prayer,

‘Lord, show me myself. Lord show me myself.’"

Torrey left the inn the following morning. About four months later he came back through that same town and stopped at that same family inn. The innkeeper greeted him and said, "I am so glad to see you. What did you say to that girl?" "What’s the matter with her?" "Why, she’s crying all the time. She won’t eat. She’s losing weight. All she says is ‘Dr. Torrey. I must see Dr. Torry.’ Can you help her?"

Torrey learned she was in the kitchen working, and headed in that direction. When he opened the door, the girl looked up, dropped her work and began to sob aloud. Torrey pulled up a stool beside her, sat down, calmed her quietly and then said, "Daughter, why are you crying?"

She said, "Do you remember what you told me to do?" Torrey nodded his head. "Well, I began reading my New Testament, and praying ‘Lord, show me myself. Lord, show me myself.’ At first nothing happened, and then one day God showed me myself. Oh, Dr. Torrey, I’m a sinner. I’m lost. I’m going to hell." And she began to sob again.

Torrey waited for the storm of her tears to subside and then he said, "Daughter, I want you to change your prayer. Keep reading your New Testament, but now I want you to pray,

‘Lord, show me thyself. Lord, show me thyself.’"

Several years later when Torrey was coming back from his swing around the world, he preached in a great hall in London, England. At the close of the service, a well-dressed, intelligent looking young woman came up to him, reached out her hand, smiled and said, "Do you remember me?"

When he shook his head, she replied, "I am the scullery maid you talked to up in Scotland." "Well, daughter, what happened to you?" "When I prayed, ‘Lord show me myself,’ I saw the sin in my life, and I realized I was lost and without hope. But, when in response to your counsel I changed my prayer to ‘Lord, show me thyself,’ I saw the holiness of Jesus. I saw the perfection of the Son of God and the cleansing power in the blood he shed for my sins. I accepted him as my Savior and, Dr. Torrey, I was gloriously saved and am on my way to heaven!"

It was a different story, wasn’t it? The vision that convicts, was replaced by the vision that converts.

From "The Offer of Salvation"

***

A few years ago I had a burning desire to learn how to fly. I focused my entire attention upon that goal. Absolutely nothing was going to satisfy me until I knew how to fly. I finally convinced Lucille of the earnestness of this desire, and she suggested I find out how much it would cost. So I went out to the airport, asked how much it would cost, and when the instructor said, "Five hundred dollars" I was cured on the spot. Then I asked how much it would cost to go for a ride. He told me five dollars. I could afford that, so that is what I did.

The point I am trying to get over is this, no matter how much I believed in that airplane, and the ability of the pilot to fly it, even though I knew by the laws of physics that the size of the engine and the construction of the plane made it absolutely certain to fly, no matter how many favorable convictions I might have had about the airplane, it wasn’t until I climbed into the cockpit and said, "Let’s go," that it could lift me into the air.

The pilot could "rev" the engine all day. Other people could have gotten on board and gone for a flight to prove it would work. In fact, I could have known all there is to know about aeronautics, but not until I, by faith, climbed into the cockpit and placed my trust in that airplane, could it lift me off the ground.

You see the point. You can realize your need of a Savior. You can recognize Christ’s sufficiency to meet that need. But, despite your awareness of your need and your belief that Christ can satisfy that need if you ask him to, if you do not respond to the plea of the Holy Spirit and, by faith, actually call upon the name of the Lord, you are as lost as if you had never heard of or believed in Jesus at all.

From "The Offer of Salvation"

***

Dr. Hyman Appelman, the renowned Jewish evangelist, tells of an experience he heard from the lips of a Methodist pastor in Dallas, Texas. It was Monday morning and many of the pastors from Dallas had gathered together for their monthly meeting. Toward the end of their session, one of the leading pastors came in and asked to speak. "I am sure you have read about the death of George," and he mentioned the man’s last name. "Some of you know that he and I have been friends since childhood. He was the best chum I had in the world. What has happened has almost caused me to lose my mind."

Appleman continues --

George was driving along the northwest highway Tuesday evening. It was just about sunset. Perhaps he couldn’t see clearly, but his car struck the back of a loaded parked sand truck. It caved his car in and crushed George with it. There was very little they could do for him. He was hemorrhaging internally. And the doctor contacted his wife and children, and they called me.

I raced to the hospital. When I entered the room, George turned to his family and said, "Please leave the room for a little while. I want to talk to the preacher." I came close to the bed and said, "George, is there anything I can do for you?" He said, "Yes, Martin, there is. As you know, I am leaving a great deal of money. I am worth more dead than I am alive. My wife doesn’t know anything about business and my children are too young to be of any help. Martin, I want you to promise me you will be a friend and counselor to my wife and a surrogate father to my children."

"You don’t have to ask that," I told him, "but, George, there is something far more important than that" "What is it, Martin?" "George, you are not a Christian, are you?" George smiled at me and said, "No, Martin, I am not. But it certainly isn’t your fault. You’ve tried hard enough to win me." I said, "George, the doctors tell me you haven’t much time left. Won’t you give your heart to Jesus right now?"

George looked at me and said, "Martin, I have been thinking about it ever since I came in here, but I can’t seem to break through. I am not an infidel. I believe the Bible, but I can’t seem to break through the blanket of mist between God and me" I said, "Nonsense, Martin," and I dropped to my knees and began to pray aloud for him.

Hyman Appelman describes how the pastor stopped, reached for his handkerchief and wiping a wild tear that poured down his cheek continued –

"Brothers, the best friend I had in the world lived a Christless life. He died a Christless death. We put him in a Christless coffin. We had a Christless funeral. We buried him in a Christless grave. He wore a Christless shroud. I preached a Christless sermon. He will rise in a Christless resurrection. He will face a Christless judgement, and he will sink into a Christless hell, because he put it off. Because he put it off."

From "The Offer of Salvation"

***

Suppose I was the sales manager of a large company and you people were my salesmen. How long do you think that business would last if, as sales manager, it was my job to do all of the selling and all you salesmen did was to support me with your encouragement and faithful attendance at my weekly lectures on the quality and value of our product? How long do you think that business would last, if as salesmen, all you ever did, was try to persuade a few prospects to come and hear my weekly lectures in hopes they would buy? How long do you think that business would last? I’ll tell you. Just long enough to exhaust the capital. No business could ever run on such a program and neither can the church of the living God.

There was a terrible shipwreck off the coast of Italy. The captain of the lifesaving crew, instead of manning the lifeboats, stood on shore and shouted instructions through a public address system. The report that went to the government said, "We rendered what aide we could through the public address system, but the next morning, twenty bodies were washed ashore."

And I say to you, any church that uses its pastor as a public address system and fails to man the lifeboats with the entire crew and push out to save the lost who are going down, will be responsible for all those who, one day, will be thrown upon the shores of a Christless eternity, whom they could have won if God’s people had gone after them.

From "The Church’s Challenge"

***

J. Wilbur Chapman tells how, not far from his home in Indiana, lived an old woman who was the terror of the entire community. Finally, she was arrested and sent to the state penitentiary. There she broke every rule and they exhausted every kind of punishment. Time after time, she was put into solitary confinement and for weeks given nothing but bread and water.

One day, a Quaker lady came to the prison and asked to see her. They brought the woman into the room with chains on her hands and feet. The Quaker lady said, "My sister." The old woman cursed her and said, "You’re not my sister." Then the Quaker lady said, "I love you." With another oath the woman said, "Nobody loves me." Then the lady came near and taking the sin-stained face in her hands, she lifted it up and said, "Well, I love you. Jesus loves you too."

Those words broke the old woman’s heart. Her mind went spinning back across the years to her childhood when she sat in a little country church and sang, "Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so." That day she dropped to her knees, confessed her sin and received God’s son as her Savior.

When she arose to her feet, she was clearly different. They came and took the chains off her hands and feet and, from that day until the day she died, they were never placed upon her again. Rather, like an angel of mercy, she went up and down the corridors of that prison ministering to the wants and needs of others, a shining trophy of the compelling love of Christ.

From "The Church’s Challenge"

***

Somewhere I read the story of a church which had gone over a year without a single conversion. The pastor called the board of deacons together and offered to resign. The deacons objected strongly and said they were being edified. "Edified for what" asked the pastor? In the conversation that followed he said to the deacon board, "Do you believe that through you a soul has ever been saved?" Not one of the deacons could tell whether he had ever won a single soul to the Savior. "But we are getting along well," they said. "No, we are not getting along at all," said the pastor. Then he got them down on their knees where they dedicated themselves to the task of winning souls.

That was Saturday night. The following Monday morning the chairman of the board of deacons spoke to his confidential clerk and said, "How long have you worked for me, Bob?"

"Fifteen years," the man said. Then the deacon said, "Well, I am a leader in the church where you attend. You’re not a Christian. I have known that all this time, and yet I have never said a word to you about it. I apologize for that." He went on to briefly tell the story of salvation, and to his delight, his employee agreed to kneel and receive Jesus right then and there. That week the chairman of the board led ten others of his employees to accept Christ. The other deacons were busy at their places of employment. The following Sunday, more than thirty men and women walked down the aisle of that church confessing their faith in Christ, and it was all a direct result of those ten men.

Is there any reason why any church anywhere could not reap a similar harvest? The answer is-- none whatsoever except that the harvesters are not bringing in the harvest.

From "The Church’s Challenge"

***

Some years ago, a layman heard his pastor say, "No Christian should be comfortable so long as a single unsaved person remains in his community." The layman pondered those words and they did make him uncomfortable. He took the matter to God. There was born in his soul a great passion for the lost and he began to speak to his casual acquaintances about spiritual things. He was surprised at the response that was shown. His power of presentation grew. Little by little he was able to actually lead people to make a definite decision.

A few years later, when his pastor was leaving to go to another parish, the layman took him aside and said, "Pastor, I want to show you something before you leave." He reached into his pocket, pulled out a little notebook that seemed to be filled with names. "Pastor, here you will find the names of one-hundred and twenty-two people whom I have led to Christ in the past two years. Two years ago, as you know, God gave me an awful shaking up. From that day to this, as I have been on my business trip, I have been doing business for him. I used to be comfortable doing nothing. Now I am uncomfortable when I am not working for him."

***

During the Revolutionary War, a particular regiment of the American Army suffered severe reverses. The sergeant ordered retreat. However, the flagboy, instead of moving to the back of the troops, remained up front. The sergeant sent a messenger, "Send the flag back to the regiment."

"No," the flagboy said, "Tell the sergeant to get the regiment back to the flag."

Indeed! Let’s get the whole church back to our high calling, and in a winsome way, win someone for the Savior.

From "The Church’s Challenge"

***

Someone has said,

"Salvation is easy. All it requires is acceptance.
The difficult part is Christianity, for that entails living."

That means becoming a follower of Jesus in all of its fulness. It means forsaking your past sins. It means righting of wrongs you have done. It means the complete dedication of all you are and ever hope to be, to God. That is not always easy, but if we are to win the world to Jesus, then following his example is exactly what we must do.

We must heed the words of the poet who charges,

"Be strong! We are not here to play, to dream, to drift,
We have work to do and loads to lift.
Shun not the struggle, face it.
‘Tis God’s gift.
It matters not how deep entrenched the wrong.
How hard the battle goes.
The day how long.
Stand up, fight on!
Tomorrow comes the song."

From "What Is the Gospel"

***

As J. Wilbur Chapman points out --

I don’t believe I ever fully realized the significance of Christ’s burial until the other day when I was preparing this message. I was reading Leviticus 16 and there, I came upon the scapegoat of the Old Testament (Lev. 16:8,10,26).

You may remember the details of that ancient Jewish ritual. The priest stood with his hand upon the head of the goat confessing the sins of Israel. And then, the goat was led away into the wilderness, bearing the sins of Israel. As I read through the story, it struck me that here was the perfect illustration of how Christ meets our sins. He becomes our scapegoat, bearing our sins as far from us as the east is from the west. They are cast into the depths of the sea. They are put behind God’s back, to be lost forever in the abyss of God’s forgetfulness.

From "What Is the Gospel"

***

Kernie Keagan, "the singing parson," tells how one Sunday while he was away preaching, and his wife and little girl were home, a bad storm arose. His wife did not think it wise to take the little girl out in the rain and she decided to teach her the Sunday School lesson at home. The little one climbed into her mother’s lap, and listened intently as Mrs. Keagan told her the story of the second coming of Jesus which was the lesson of the day.

When Dr. Keagan returned late that night the child had already gone to sleep. He was exhausted from a long day of preaching and travel and asked his wife to keep things quiet so he could sleep in the next morning.

However, almost at the crack of dawn, his little girl, unaware of her daddy’s exhaustion, came running into the preacher’s bedroom to receive her accustomed hug and kiss. Dr. Keagan tells how he heard her coming and tried to pretend he was still sleeping. He felt her climb up onto the bed and press her cheek to his. He felt her probe around his face with her tiny fingers, as she tried to mimic the tender caresses she had seen her mother give to him. After a moment she got down and tiptoed away.

The preacher sensed she was still in the room, so he quietly he lifted his head from the pillow and opened his eyes. He saw her there, silhouetted against the sunlight as she stood barefoot in her nighty, gazing out of the spacious window into the morning sky. He watched the child for a moment, his heart pounding with love and thanksgiving to God for such a gift as she, when suddenly, the little girl turned around, and seeing her daddy awake ran into his arms shouting, "Good morning daddy. Is he here yet?"

After an exchange of affectionate kisses the child repeated her question. "Is he here yet?" "Who?" asked Dr. Keagan. "Jesus! Yesterday mommy told me he is coming back again. Is he here yet?"

Dr. Keagan says, as soon as she went about her playing I dropped to my knees beside the bed and prayed, "Oh God, if only I had her faith. If only I could recapture that attitude of expediency I had as a new Christian. Oh God, make the preeminence of Christ’s return the motivating power in all my ministry."

Beloved, Jesus is coming. He is coming soon. The great question is, "Are you ready to meet him?" For while he shall come to receive his own, he shall also come to reject the lost. And, if you are not right with God tonight, if you are not saved, if you are not a Christian, there can be no better time than this to prepare for his coming. The way is simple.

From "What Is the Gospel"

***

During the awful Holocaust of the last World War, I had many friends and buddies who served as pilots in the United States Air force. I remember clearly, when talking with one of my flyer friends -- a Captain with a whole chest full of medals and ribbons won for his heroic service – he told me of the thrilling experiences he had while flying long missions over the blue waters of the Pacific. During one of our conversations, he mentioned something which left its indelible mark upon my memory.

"There are no landing fields on the ocean," he said, "and there comes a time in every flight over the ocean, when we reach ‘the point of no return.’ It’s when a pilot must decide whether he has sufficient fuel to reach his final destination. If not, he must turn back. To go on is certain death. Once he is past ‘the point of no return,’ he will not have enough fuel to make it back to his home base. Nor will he have enough fuel to reach his goal!"

From "The Point of No Return"

***

psychology tells us that each time we face an option and say "no," it becomes easier to say "no" the next time we face that option. Psychologists say our first reaction to a particular decision is registered on the "plastic" cells of our brain. When we face that same decision again, our immediate reaction is the same as before. Each time we react the same way that reaction is deepened in our brain cells until it becomes almost second nature to react a certain way in a given situation.

Do you get the point? The first time you said "no" to God, it became easier to say "no" again. So you said it again. And again and again. Perhaps you said it a hundred times last year. And a hundred times the year before that. And the year before that. Ad infinitum. You’ve said it so often, and repetition has stamped that "no" so deep in you nature, that tonight -- as I extend the gentle invitation of Jesus to "come" -- every decision you made unites with every other until your whole being -- body, soul and spirit -- hurls back at God the "NO!" which has become part of your very being This is a psychological explanation for why so many decisions for Christ are made in the prime of youth. It happens because young hearts are not yet hardened and it is still possible to say "yes" to God.

From "The Point of No Return"

***

Bishop McDowell, a mighty man of God now gone to his reward, tells of an incident out of his vast experience. It seems electricity had only recently been discovered and for the first time in many cities, the electric light was replacing the kerosene lamp. One evening while in New York City, some friends invited him to see a spectacular electrical display. He recounts in vivid language the tremendous impression this spectacle made upon him. How, as he watched the dazzling array of lights he said, almost in a whisper "Isn’t it wonderful?"

His friend who was standing at his side, replied softly, "Yes. It reminds me of the patience of God." "Why?" asked the Bishop. "What is there about this glorious display, even in its magnificence, that reminds you of the patience of God?" The man answered, "For centuries men have groped around in darkness with their lamps and bits of tallow, when all the time God in his heaven has patiently flashed his lightening across the skies, and cried out to men, ‘Look here! See what I have for you if you will only take it. Come out of your darkness and take my light!’ Then, one day someone reached up into the heavens and pulled it down, harnessing the power of God, and today our cities and homes are flooded with light"

Beloved, as Bishop McDowell points out, For the last two-thousand years people have been groping about in the darkness of their sin, vainly searching amid the tallow and wicks of the world for some faint light to guide their souls. And all the time, God in his tender patience has been flashing the eternal light of his love as it radiates from the cross of Christ crying, "Look here! See what I have for you if you will only take it! Come out of your darkness and take my light!"

From "The Point of No Return"

***

A young man was walking along a road in ancient Greece when he came upon a statue. It was a strange statue. It had wings on its feet, a lock of hair on its forehead and the back of its head was shaved bare. The young man studied the statue for a long time and then said, "Statue, what is your name and why are you made in such a funny fashion? Why do you have wings on your feet, a lock of hair on your forehead and why is the back of your head shaved bare?"

According to the myth, the statue stared at the young man for a moment and then spoke, "My name is opportunity. I have wings on my feet for I am always ready to take flight. I have a lock of hair on my forehead so people can reach out and grasp me and cleave me unto themselves. The back of my head is shaved bare because once I am gone, it’s not possible to call me back again!"

From "The Point of No Return"

***

A farmer built a new barn and on the roof, just above the door, he placed a weather vane upon which were printed the words: God is love. A neighbor observed this and said, "That’s a strange message to put on a weather vane which is constantly shifting with the wind." "You don’t understand, "the farmer said, "that’s exactly why I put it there. It reminds me that,

any way the wind blows, God is love!"

From "How Do You Spell Life?"

***

A famous theologian was asked if it was possible to put the essentials of the Christian faith into one sentence. He nodded and quoted 2 Cor. 5:19,

"God was in Christ reconciling the world unto himself."

Then he added,

"Hang loose on everything else."

From "How Do You Spell Life?"

***

Suppose you were digging a ditch. It was hard work and you were struggling mightily and growing more and more weary with each shovelful. How could someone give you rest? By standing above you and shouting instructions? By exhorting you to "keep on keeping on?" No! If that person really wanted to give you rest he would say, "Vacate the ditch and let me occupy." And then, using his superior strength and skill, he would do in his sufficiency what you were unable to do in your insufficiency.

That’s how the Christian life works. In each of the many situations, blind alleys, trials and tribulations we meet throughout a day, Jesus says,

"Vacate and let me occupy."
"Vacate and let me occupy."
"Vacate and let me occupy."
It’s one vacation after another. And what do vacations supply? That’s right. Rest!

From "How Do You Spell Life?"

***

At our physical birth we are given all the potential we’re ever going to get. We may develop that potential. We may gain wisdom, but we will not be given more intelligence. We may develop our coordination, but we will not be given more muscles.

This was made clear to me in a homely way by Jodi, our first-born. Lucille and I were in New Jersey conducting a six-week long crusade involving several hundred Baptist Churches. We spent one week in six different centers. The American Baptist Churches surrounding those six centers brought their pre-Christian friends and neighbors to a central church where Lucille sang and I preached. It was a great experience.

One afternoon, Jodi, who was about eight-months-old at the time, was sitting on the floor. We had her propped up with a couple of pillows and she was looking around. All of a sudden, for the first time she saw her hand. She wiggled it and it moved and she laughed. She was absolutely fascinated with this strange appendage. Because her coordination was poor, her hand drifted off to the side, she looked around for it, couldn’t see it and began to cry. Well, no daddy likes to see his baby cry, so I grabbed her hand, pulled it in front of her, she saw it, wiggled it and began to laugh again.

Now she had had that hand from the moment she was born. It was part of the natural equipment she received at birth. At eight months of age she was beginning to learn how to use it. The same is true of all the other gifts and qualities she was given at birth. If she is going to grow up and be a beautiful, talented singer like her mother, those qualities are already in her. If she is going to grow up and be wise, handsome and intelligent like her father . . . Well, you get the point. At birth she received all the potential she’s ever going to get. After birth has come growth, and, throughout her lifetime, she has continued to develop the talents and gifts and characteristics with which she was born.

From "How Do You Spell Life?"

***

A little girl had lost her mother. One day she said, "Daddy, where’s Mommy?" It was a question she asked often. A question which sent an arrow of anguish into her father’s heart. It reminded him of his loneliness, and the little girl’s loss. He turned to hide a tear that meandered down his cheek, and then, after wiping it away, he turned back and said, "Honey, a good man came and took Mummy away."

The little darling asked another question, not realizing in her childish innocence she was stabbing her daddy’s heart with the dagger of death. "Daddy, is the good man going to bring Mummy back again?" "No, darling, the good man is not going to bring Mommy back." And then his face brightened, and he added, "But I heard a preacher say once that if we are ready when the good man comes, he’ll take us where Mummy is. I wonder what he meant."

The next day he went out into the yard and found his little girl had gathered up all her play things and put them in a box. The tiny little doll house was swept and clean. The pieces of furniture were all in order. The child was sitting quietly in a rocking chair, holding her favorite dolly.

The father got down on his knees so he could look directly into his little girl’s eyes. "Honey, why have you done all this?" he asked. The little girl put her doll down, got out of her chair, climbed into her daddy’s arms and said, "I don’t know when the good man is coming, Daddy, but when he comes I’m going to be ready."

From "The World Crisis and the Coming Christ"

***

Dannecker, the German sculptor, spent eight years producing a face of Christ. At long last he achieved one in which the emotions of love and sorrow were so perfectly blended, those who looked upon it were moved to tears. Subsequently he was asked to use his great talent on a statue of Venus, and he replied, "After gazing so long into the face of Jesus, do you think that now I can turn my attentions to a heathen goddess?" And beloved, that’s the secret to a better life. That’s the cleansing, redeeming power of a new affection. A love affair with Jesus.

From "Let’s Be Honest"

***

Near the summit of Mount Pilatus, the imposing 12,400 foot peak which dominates the city of Lucern, Switzerland, is a spot where the geographic and atmospheric conditions are so arranged as to produce an almost perfect echo.

One day, a young father and his little daughter went with a group of tourists to the top of Mount Pilatus to experience this phenomenal echo. After a demonstration, the guide invited the various tourists to try the echo for themselves. One after another, the people stepped forward and called out some meaningless phrase or silly statement.

Finally, realizing this was an opportunity to teach his little girl an important lesson, the young father stepped to the edge of the precipice, and holding tightly to his tiny daughter’s hand, cried,

"Jesus Christ! The same yesterday, today and forever."

And the echo responded --

"Jesus Christ! The same yesterday, today and forever."

The little girl listened breathlessly as the echo responded: forever, forever, forever, forever. Finally, overcome by it all, she said,

"Daddy! They can’t stop it, can they?"

Knowing she had learned the lesson he wanted to teach, the father smiled and said,

"No, daughter, they can’t stop it!"

From "They Can’t Stop It, Can They!"

***

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!"

***

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!"

***

Look at Peter preaching at Pentecost. See the authority of which he speaks. And why? Because his preaching centered in the source of certainty -- Jesus Christ, himself! Preaching, to Peter, meant the authoritative proclamation of a few momentous events.

Jesus Christ had come, had died, and had risen again.

That was it! But, he was on solid ground. He was preaching Christ. And, believe it or not, that’s what people want today.

During our recent ministry tour of Europe under the sponsorship of the Baptist World Alliance, I preached 147 times in 127 days in 10 different countries. It was a grand experience for Lucille and me. Our eyes and hearts were opened in a new way to the needs of a lost and dying world.

One of our opportunities was to hold a week of meetings in Charlotte Chapel, Edinburgh, Scotland. This is one of the great free churches of Europe. Its current pastor, J. Sidlow Baxter, has been invited to preach all over the world and he graciously agreed to set up our itinerary on the British Isles. After we had been introduced, Lucille stood and sang a beautiful song she had picked to explain the reason for our presence.

"I am a stranger here within a foreign land,
My home is far away upon a distant strand,
Ambassador to thee from realms beyond the sea,
I am here on business for my King.
This is the message that I bring,
A message angels fain would sing,
Oh, be ye reconciled, thus saith our God and King,
Oh, be ye reconciled to God."

When she sat down there was a sweet sense of the Spirit’s presence. The man who was in charge of the service stood and said, "Now that we know why these young people have come to Scotland, let us sing back to them our word of welcome." And, oh, how they sang! It must be as the angels in heaven sing. I will never forget it.

"Tell me the story of Jesus,
Write on my heart every word,
Tell me the story most blessed,
Sweetest that ever was heard."

From "They Can’t Stop It, Can They!"

***

There was a time in history when there was only one man in the whole world who was preaching Christ. Suppose he had fallen prey to the temptation which has snared so many of us and had substituted his words for God’s word? Suppose he had stopped preaching Christ? Thank God, he didn’t. John the Baptist made it his specialty to become an authority on the one person who could save a lost and dying world.

"Behold the lamb of God" was his only theme.

And, oh, how he preached it. There was certainty in what he said.

From "They Can’t Stop It, Can They!"

***

In the midst of one of his sermons Spurgeon held up a book.

"Here is the latest novel. Its day will pass." And he dropped it on the floor. "Here is the latest book of science. It, too, will pass." And he let it fall. He held up a third book and said, "Here is a recent commentary on social events. It will pass." And he let it drop with a thud. Then, picking up his pulpit Bible and holding it high, he cried,

"Here is the word of God which endures forever!"

From "They Can’t Stop It, Can They!"

***

During a crusade in the city of Topeka, Kansas, I met a wonderful layman whom I came to love. He was so very real. One night he came up to me at the close of the service and said,

"Johnnie, I had a great victory today. I didn’t say damn once!"

I must admit that, at that time, not saying damn once in a day, didn’t strike me as much of a victory. Since then, I’ve been faced with a few problem people which have tempted me to say it myself, more than once! The whole point of the story is that the folks who slip into our services Sunday after Sunday are people who, for six days, have been engaged in hand-to-hand combat with stern reality. They want to know how God’s message applies to them.

"Not my brother, nor my sister, but it’s me, oh Lord, standin’ in the need of prayer."

From "They Can’t Stop It, Can They!"

***

A Skid Row bum who had been hit by a car, was taken to the county hospital. As they washed him up and "prep" him for surgery, a young intern looked at him and said, "Just another worthless bum." The man stirred when he heard those words and said, "I may be a bum, Doc, but I am not worthless. Jesus died for me, too."

From "They Can’t Stop It, Can They!"

***

I think that’s why, when Jesus set out to build his Kingdom, he didn’t go into the temple and sign up a bunch of priests to lead his cause. Nor did he seek the services of the best theological minds of his day. Whom did he seek? Common people. Fishermen. Laborers. Tax collectors and the like. Plain people who would know how to build the Kingdom of God on Plain Street, because they lived there!

Called into Kingdom service were rough-hewn, two-fisted men like Peter and Andrew, James and John. Jesus knew these guys would not allow the gospel to get lost in the clouds. They would see to it that it remained relevant to everyday life. They would tell people what Jesus had done for them, personally, and what he could do for the people to whom they would be talking.

Simon and Andrew, James and John would carry out a ministry on Plain Street which would make fishermen into Christians, while they fished! And, if you capitalize on your distinct advantage as a layman, if you learn to couch your witness in the second person, present tense -- "you need Christ, now!"-- you will begin to enjoy the thrill of witnessing in a winsome way which wins someone to the Savior.

From "They Can’t Stop It, Can They!"

***

If I had known how impossible our goals are in ministry, I might not have "signed up!" Actually, that isn’t true, because, as Paul says in Ephesians 3:7,

"I was made a minister according to the gift of God’s grace ..."

Don’t ask me why. I don’t know. There are many people more qualified than I am to fulfill this calling. But that’s the point, isn’t it? It’s a calling. And, for reasons of his own, back in 1941 while I was attending Wheaton College, God tapped me on the shoulder and

"I was made a minister."

Even so, at times, I am overwhelmed with the daunting task of living up to what I have chosen to call Our Impossible Goals.

From "Our Impossible Goals"

***

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"

***

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"

***

I know a little Greek and a little Hebrew. One of them runs a restaurant and the other runs a pawn shop! But one of my ministerial buddies who is a Greek scholar, pointed out that the word translated "approved" of God means to be "thoroughly equipped, fully prepared, and perfectly suited" to the task God sets before us.

That includes being a man of vision. The tragedy of the church today is that all too often it doesn’t know where it’s going. Why? Because, as someone has pointed out,

"Ministers like us to make churches like ours."

The Bible says, "Without a vision the people (emphasis mine) perish." This reading of the text suggests that, for the people to have a sense of purpose and direction, their pastor must be a person of vision!

As I’ve moved around the country and observed our fellow preachers, I’m sorry to say some, not all, thank God, but some are like the French Revolutionists who said,

"The mob is in the street. I must find out

where they are going, for I am their leader."

That kind of "leadership" won’t cut it in a day like this. The man of God must know what he believes and why. He must know where he is going and how he plans to get there. He must be sure of his ground and sure of his God. He must be willing to change and adapt and grow.

Instead of giving a few churches many years of experience, some preachers give many churches a few years of experience! And that’s sad. It’s sad that there are preachers out there who have lost both their ground and their God because they failed to stretch toward the telos of being perfect in their scholarship.

From "Our Impossible Goals"

***

This became painfully clear to me during my college years. The faith in short pants of that nine year old boy who gave his heart to Jesus, proved to be inadequate for a maturing young adult. I needed a grown-up faith in trousers. It took me a while to get it.

I remember vividly how, during my college years, while working on a dual major in philosophy and psychology, there came a night when I knelt beside my bed and, for the first time in my life, could not pray. I remember saying to myself,

"This is just a verbal catharsis. I’m talking out loud so my ears can hear what
my mouth is saying, in the hope that I’ll feel better. No one’s listening."

I remember getting off of my knees and climbing into bed gripped by an icy indifference. I had chosen to believe my doubts and doubt my beliefs.

For several months I walked a painful, bewildering, increasingly desperate path as I attempted to whittle God down to as size with which I could more comfortably live. And then, after months of emptiness, there came a moment when I decided to doubt my doubts and believe my beliefs. I decided to let God be God. That night, kneeling beside that same bed, I prayed,

"Lord, I believe, help my unbelief."

And, in a quiet, holy, life-altering moment,

"my knees did climb those altar stairs
which slope through darkness up to God."

From "Our Impossible Goals"

***

A young missionary arrived on the foreign fields to which he had been assigned. He saw the teeming masses of people meandering about with a sense of sadness in their eyes. He turned to the retiring missionary whose place he had come to fill and said, "It looks like I got here in the nick of time." The older man smiled and said, "Son, that’s exactly what I said when I arrived here forty years ago." Quick as a flash the young man fired back, "Yes, but you’ve got to admit the times are getting nicker and nicker!"

From "Our Impossible Goals"

***

A few weeks ago, I noticed a little paragraph in one of the professional magazines to which I subscribe which struck me as being almost uncanny in its description of the age in which we live. It seems two Hollywood actresses were discussing their respective horoscopes. In the course of the conversation, one of them turned to the other and said, "I didn’t know you believed in astrology" "Oh yes," replied her companion, "I believe in everything a little bit."

From "Islands of Healing"

***

A young Chinese Communist stood before the firing squad of Chiang Kai-shek’s soldiers, and as the captain gave the order to take aim, the girl cried out, "I’m dying for a cause. What are you living for?"

I haven’t been able to get away from it. Maybe it will give you a few hours of sleeplessness too.

"I’m dying for a cause. What are you living for?" It gets under your skin, doesn’t it? It doesn’t let you rest. Every time you see a cross on the steeple of a church . . . every time you hear the story of Calvary . . . every time you think about the incredible condescension of Christ who left the glories of heaven for a straw-strewn stable and a cruel Roman rack . . . every time you take communion . . . every time you see a lost one die . . . every time you take communion . . . every time you think of a world that is staggering under the weight of incredible need . . . every time you read of a new baby being born and you remember this is not just a body, but an immortal soul . . . every time you think of the tremendous thing that Jesus did for you and you reflect on the little you do for him . . . every time . . . it comes back and hits you where it really hurts, "I’m dying for a cause. What are you living for?"

From "Islands of Healing"

***

Phillip Brooks said, "It seems as though the heros have done about all they can for the world. Now nothing much will be accomplished until the common people rise up to do their common tasks." And that, of course, is the challenge of this hour. And, in finality, that is the only real hope for the world. Let me show you what I mean.

Medical science has recently discovered a new method of treating serious, and in the past, ofttimes fatal burns. A surgeon, with special skills, removes a section of healthy skin from the body of the burned person, and cuts it into infinitesimal pieces. He then scatters it over the open wound where the tiny bits of healthy skin begin to grow and multiply. They become veritable islands of healing, reaching out until the entire area is covered and the wound is healed.

It seems to me that’s our mission as Christians. Each of us is an island of healing for a broken and bleeding world. By ourselves, our frail and feeble efforts seem small and unimportant. But together, as we stretch and grow, reaching out to bind up the wounds of a suffering humanity, our growing edges join. And when they do, our weaknesses become strength. Our sacrifices become splendid. For we are more than commoners. We are children of the King. And with a regal bearing, we must be extraordinary people for an extraordinary time.

From "Islands of Healing"

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