Heaven Sermon Illustrations

Heaven Sermon Illustrations

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God's Telegram

I read the other day that a father in Watford last year was greatly troubled about his son who had gone wrong and was ill and despondent. The boy wrote to his father tremblingly and fearfully, as if to ask whether there was any hope. The father sent a telegram to him, and the telegram consisted of one word; and the word was "Home," and it was signed "Father." The Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ is God's telegram to the sinful world, summed up in one word, "Home," and signed by one name, "Father."—Dr. R. F. Horton, in the Free Churchman.

The "Way to Heaven" Was What He Needed

"Fine sermon, wasn't it?" asked one of Farmer Peter's friends, referring to a scholarly discourse with which the congregation had been favored that morning by a city preacher. "Maybe," returned Farmer Peter. "Why?" persisted the first speaker, "that man knows more about the Bible, and has made a deeper study of Biblical history and geography than almost any other minister in the country." "Has he now" inquired Farmer Peter mildly. "Well, then, I reckon that the trouble must have been with me. You see, I'd calc'lated I should hear somethin' about the way to Heaven, and I only learned the way from Jerusalem to Jericho."Sunday School Times.

Better Than This

The Rev. G. C. Macgregor once related how an old Aberdeen preacher was comforted by a little personal incident. He had always feared death, and was powerless to comfort others facing it. Toward the end of his life he moved to another house. Yet when the furniture had all gone, the old preacher lingered in the home where his children had been born and where his sermons had been prepared. At last his servant came to him and said, "Sir, everything's gone; and the new house is better than this one. Come away." It preached to him a lesson that he never forgot. God has prepared for His children a home much better than this,—"an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens."—Sunday at Home.

The Language of Heaven

An old writer has said that "they who would enjoy Heaven must have some experimental acquaintance with the language of its inhabitants." In the case of many it would seem that they are intending to enjoy Heaven without the slightest attempt to learn the language of Canaan. There, for instance, is a man who tells you he intends to be in Heaven some day; but he has no wish whatever to talk on Heavenly subjects. He enjoys the world and the things of the world. His heart is set upon earthly things. Yet he tells you he has a hope of Heaven. Vain, delusive hope! They that are on their way to Heaven are cultivating an experimental acquaintance with the language and ways of a Heavenly people. Let me ask, is this the case with you?—Tract.

Do You Own Such a Wonderful Home?

"Next Sunday you are to talk about Heaven. I am interested in that land, because I have held a clear title to a bit of property there for over fifty-five years. I did not buy it. It was given to me without money and without price. But the donor purchased it for me at tremendous sacrifice....It is not a vacant lot. For more than half a century I have been sending materials out of which the greatest architect and builder of the universe has been building a home for me, which will never need to be remodeled nor repaired because it will suit me perfectly, individually, and will never grow old. Termites can never undermine its foundations for they rest upon the Rock of ages. Fire cannot destroy it. Floods cannot wash it away.... I hope to hear your sermon ... but I have no assurance that I shall be able to do so. My ticket to Heaven has no date marked for the journey—no return coupon—and no permit for baggage. Yes, I am ready to go, and I may not be here while you are talking next Sunday evening, but I shall meet you there someday."—Excerpts from a letter to Dr. Charles E. Fuller, published in The Sunday School Times.


A little Negro boy, when on his death­bed, was visited by a missionary to whom he spoke of the happiness he felt and the longing desire he had to be with Jesus.

"I am going to Heaven soon and then I shall see Jesus and be with Him forever," said the little fellow.

"But," rejoined the missionary, "if Jesus were to leave Heaven, what would you do?"

"I would follow Him."

"But suppose," said the missionary, "Jesus went to hell; what would you do then?"

In an instant, with an intelligent look and a smile on his countenance, he replied: "Ah, massa, there is no hell where Jesus is. The presence of Jesus is Heaven."—Selected.

A Prepared Welcome

The Rev. George H. Sherer of Beirut, Syria, says: "A traveler in the desert, longing for a stopping place, may meet a native lad who tells him that there are tents and hospitality farther on. It is a place where he can stop, and the courtesy of the desert demands that the minimum length of the sojourn be at least three days. Then, after the lad has told the traveler of the stopping place, he likely will mount his horse and ride on, saying, 'I will go and prepare a place for you."' This word from the East throws a flood of light on the saying of our Lord as He spoke of the mansions in His Father's house.—Presbyterian of the South.

The Immunities of Heaven

Bhagubai Tode is the barefooted pastor of a barefooted congregation in Manubai. His subject was "Heaven," and he was trying to make his people appreciate the prospect of a home in such a blissful land. Knowing, as he did, the many unpleasant things in the lot of his humble people, he majored on the things that are not in Heaven. At the climax, he said, "And there will be no thorns up there." Instinctively the people glanced down at their unprotected feet which had known so many cruel wounds, and then they turned back to the preacher with a better interest than ever before. They heard Heaven mentioned in terms they could understand and appreciate.

The tired housekeeper murmurs, "There'll be no scrubbing there." The weary plowman looks up from his toil and says, "There'll be no grubbing there." The defeated candidate sighs, "There'll be no snubbing there."

Indeed who is there that does not find his own special thorns in the full list of Heaven's immunities? No sorrow, no tears, no sickness, no dying, no sin, no sighing, no slander, and no more sea! What is there that makes your lot less pleasant? Well, it will not be in Heaven.

No wonder they can leave the gates of Heaven open by day and by night and yet no one ever goes out. God grant that you and I may be among those who wash their robes and make them white in the Blood of the Lamb and enter through the gates into the City; for then we shall rest under the shade of the Tree of Life and know no grief or sorrow forever, and in the midst of that unmingled bliss all we have ever known of suffering or sacrifice here will be forgotten. Heaven is my Home.—J. B. Chapman, D.D., in Herald of Holiness.

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