Sacrifice Sermon Illustrations

Sacrifice Sermon Illustrations

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Why He Traveled Third Class

My dear old friend, Evangelist James McKendrick, I found down among the third-class passengers, just recovering from a serious operation. When asked why he was traveling third-class, he replied: "Because there is no fourth-class." He and his good wife live in the most frugal manner in order to have the more to give to the Lord's cause. What he saved in passage money, I have it on good authority (though he wouldn't tell it), he gave to foreign missions.—E. J. Pace's Travel Letter.


Can't Stop Love

In an overcrowded tenement in the city slums the cry "fire, fire" is heard, and the fire engines come thundering down the street. From every doorway, from every fire escape, from every window, eager, excited streams of humanity tumble out on to the pavement. The flames mount higher. The smoke belches from the broken windows, and the open doors. "Stand back," demands the fire marshal, as a little woman with drawn features and tender eyes rushes toward him to say that her child is on the third story of the burning building. "But it's impossible for anyone to venture there now. No fireman can attempt it." Then, before the marshal can grasp her, she has shot by him. She rushes toward the burning building and disappears through the smoke filled door. They found her afterwards among the ashes, her charred hand resting on the face of the child she had died in a vain attempt to save.—Florida Baptist Witness.


Himself He Cannot Save

One of the most glorious things said of Jesus was said in derision by His enemies: "He saved others; Himself He cannot save." It is always so. On Dr. Adam Clarke's tomb in London is carved the figure of a candle expiring in its socket with the words underneath, "In giving light to others, I myself have been consumed." Shortly after the death of Phillips Brooks, his oldest brother said to Dr. McVicker, "Phillips might have saved himself, and so prolonged his life. Others do; but he was always giving himself to any who wanted him." Dr. MeVickar answered, "Yes, indeed! He might have saved himself, but in doing so he would not have been Phillips Brooks. The glory of his life was that he did not save himself." That is the path to Glory for us as well.—Selected.


Declining Demotion

A well-known missionary to Turkey was offered a consulship in one of the chief Turkish cities at a princely salary. "Why in the world did you not accept such a chance?" asked a young man in amazement. "Well," was the quiet reply, "I declined to step down from an ambassadorship to a consulship."—The Friend of Russia.


The Spirit of Sacrifice

An excellent story is told of an old Southern slave who had refused his freedom and lived with his master until the last.

Through the years he had carefully saved up money enough to buy a railroad ticket back to Georgia, when his master should be needing him no longer. One morning, as the Georgia train was pulling out of Washington, the old Negro with a very black face and white hair came rushing down the platform and barely caught the last car. His shoes were covered with dust, and his appearance showed signs of a long tram. Going from one end of the car to the other, he found no empty seat, so he stood up against the door, wearily shifting from one foot to the other. A young man saw he was tired, and courteously said, "Take my seat, Uncle."

Very soon the conductor came along, calling loudly, "Tickets! Tickets!" As he reached a lady in the seat behind the ex-slave, she said, "Oh, sir! I have no ticket, but you must not put me off. Last year," she went on, "the doctors said my husband had tuberculosis, and that his only chance of recovery was to go South. So we sold a few things, and got money enough to send him to Georgia. Yesterday I got a telegram saying he was dying; and, oh! I must go to him, and I have no money. You won't put me off."

The kind-hearted conductor w a s touched, but told her, "Rules are rules. Your story touches me deeply, madam, but if I do not put you off, I will lose my job. Tickets! Tickets!" The old negro looked up and said, "I speck, Conductor, you will have to put me off."

The conductor spoke gruffly. "You old nigger! What do you mean? This woman has some excuse, but you—if it were not for the time, I would stop the train and put you off on the roadside. Get off at the next stop!"

"Yes, sir!" weakly said the tired old man.

As the train slowed down, he pulled his Georgia ticket out of his pocket, bought with the savings of years, that the pull of his birthplace so strong in the negro race might be satisfied. When the train stopped he rose up, stepped to the lady's seat, and with splendid courtesy bowed like a courier of the old school, and said, "Dere's your ticket to Georgia, mam," and going down the steps of the car, started on his long tramp to Georgia—touched by the spirit of sacrifice.—Gospel Herald.


The Sure Reward

Garibaldi, the great Italian reformer of a past generation, in a fiery speech, urged some thousands of Italy's young men to fight for the freedom of their homeland. One timid young fellow approached him, asking, "If I fight, Sir, what will be my reward?" Swift as a lightning flash came the uncompromising answer, "Wounds, scars and perhaps death. But remember, that through your bruises Italy will be free." "Then," said the young man, "I will follow to the death." Are you not willing to endure the scars in order to liberate souls?The C. U. Herald.


He Came to Die

A little frail old man entered the Oakland (Calif.) Red Cross Blood Donor Center. He stood patiently in line waiting his turn at the reception desk. He was immaculately dressed, hands clean and freshly manicured, hair carefully combed, and his necktie bright and new. And he was smiling. As he told the receptionist he was eighty years old, she smiled, too. "I'm sorry," she said, "but you are too old to give a pint of blood." The man's face fell, and when he turned away, convinced at last they could not accept what he came there to give, he said quietly: "I was not going to tell you this if you had accepted me. I knew I would not survive a blood donation. I dressed for my funeral. I should have died happy, knowing my death might mean life for some boy somewhere far from home." Blood to be used in such a noble adventure must meet all the requirements of medical science. The Lord Jesus—the antitype of the old sacrifices—was of acceptable age as well as character, for He was in the prime of life and the vigor of manhood. He met every requirement of divine justice. The Lord Jesus also came prepared to die, and He did die for us; and it is impos­sible to gauge the infinite happiness of the risen Christ, knowing as He does that His death means life to all who are far from the heavenly Home, if they put their faith in Him.—Now.

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