Sacrifice Sermon Illustrations

Sacrifice Sermon Illustrations

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Camest Thou far, Beloved,
To seek for Thine own?
From Heaven's high wonder and glory
I travelled alone,
From height that thine eye ne'er beholdeth,
Past planet and star,
Down distances measureless, shining;
Yea, I came far.

Didst Thou leave much, O Beloved,
In coming for me?
My home in the Love of my Father
I gave up for thee;
For aye through the song and the music
My heart heard thy call.
I gave up my freedom, my glory;
Yea, I left all.

Didst Thou bear much, O Beloved,
That I might be free?
The thorn-crown, the mocking, the scourging,
The death on the tree—
The wrath of my God—ah!
This sorrow The thought cannot touch—
I died from the stroke of His anger:
Yea, I bore much.—Gospel Steward

Phil. 2.5-8

Dan Crawford was but a lad of nineteen when he left for Africa, an only son. In the little company at the Glasgow station stood his mother. When a friend spoke a word of comfort, she replied, 'He spared not His Son.'

Twenty-two years passed before she saw him again. Yes, twenty-two years while he toiled in Africa, without a furlough. He had buried his son, and there, amid loneliness indescribable, fever-stricken again and again, time after time nigh unto death, he lived and toiled and suffered. At fifty-six he died.—Oswald J. Smith

(John 20. 21; Rom. 8. 32)

The story is told by the Persians of the great Shah Abbas, who reigned magnificently in Persia, but loved to mingle with the people in disguise. Once, dressed as a poor man, he descended the long flight of stairs, dark and damp, to the tiny cellar where the fireman, seated on ashes, was tending the furnace.

The king sat down beside him and began to talk. At meal time the fireman produced some coarse, black bread and a jug of water and they ate and drank. The Shah went away, but returned again and again, for his heart was filled with sympathy for the lonely man. He gave him sweet counsel, and the poor man opened his whole heart and loved this friend, so kind, so wise, and yet poor like himself.

At last the emperor thought, will tell him who I am, and see what gift he will ask.' So he said, 'You think me poor, but I am Shah Abbas your emperor.' He expected a petition for some great thing, but the man sat silent, gazing on him with love and wonder. Then the king said, 'Haven't you understood? I can make you rich and noble, can give you a city, can appoint you as a great ruler. Have you nothing to ask?'

The man replied gently, 'Yes, my lord, I understood. But what is this you have done, to leave your palace and glory, to sit with me in this dark place, to partake of my coarse fare, to care whether my heart is glad or sorry? Even you can give nothing more precious. On others you may bestow rich presents, but to me you have given yourself; it only remains to ask that you never withdraw this gift of your friendship.'

(Mark 10. 45; Gal. 2. 20; Eph. 5. 2, 25)

Oh, Thou wast crowned with thorns, that! might wear
A crown of glory fair:
'Exceeding sorrowful' that I might be
Exceeding glad in Thee:
'Rejected and despised,' that I might stand
Accepted and complete at Thy right hand.

Wounded for my transgressions, stricken sore,
That I might 'sin no more':
Weak, that I might be always strong in Thee,
Bound, that I might be free:
Acquaint with grief, that I might only know
Fullness of joy in everlasting flow.

Thine was the chastisement, with no release,
That mine might be the peace;
The bruising and the cruel stripes were Thine,
That healing might be mine:
Thine was the sentence and the condemnation,
Mine the acquittal and the full salvation.

For Thee revilings and a mocking throng,
For me the angel song:
For Thee the frown, the hiding of God's face,
For me the smile of grace:
Sorrows of hell and bitterest death for Thee,
And Heaven and everlasting life for me.

(Isa. 53. 3-6; 2 Cor. 8. 9; 1 Pet. 2. 24)

'He saved others: Himself He could not save.'

There was an old Greek epigram which said: 'When you go home, tell them of us and say—For your tomorrow we gave our today.'

(Matt. 27. 42)

Brave conqueror; for so you are,
That war against your own affections
And the huge army of the world's desires.—Shakespeare

The children were playing with Noah's Ark. At last Willie sug­gested they might "offer like Noah." What should it be? A lion, a giraffe, a cow. "Ah, here's the thing," exclaimed his little sister, holding up a three-legged lamb. It was damaged and of little use. Don't smile! Examine your heart. What is the measure of your sacrifice to the Lord and His cause?—Selected

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