Archives For Sermon Illustrations

sermon illustrationsI read about one such minister who was preaching that the word “in” (“i,” “n”) did not necessarily mean “inside”; it means, “close to, round about, or nearby”. He went on to say that the Bible said Jonah was“in” the stomach of the great fish, and “in” simply meant, “close to, roundabout, or nearby”. After the service, a man came up to him and said that his sermon was the most comforting message he had ever heard. It had cleared up so many difficult things to believe in the Bible; like when the three Hebrew young men were thrown “in” the fiery furnace and were not burned – well, that was because they were really never in there, but close to or nearby. And Daniel “But,” the man went on to say, “the most encouraging thing about your explanation of “in” is that even though I don’t believe the gospel, if I’m wrong, I won’t actually be ‘in’ hell, I’ll just be close to or nearby” (From Stephen Davey’s sermon on Revelation 12:7-10 at Wisdom for the Heart).


Are You Getting Old?

September 13, 2014 — Leave a comment

old carsHave you ever felt like the world around you is getting older, faster than you? A woman was sitting in the waiting room for her first appointment with her new dentist. She noticed his diploma hanging on the wall and thought she recognized his name. She remembered that a tall, dark-haired boy with the same name had been in her high school class many years ago. Could it be the same guy she had a big crush on back in the fifties? Continue Reading…

senior moment

I READ the following story that was recorded in the police log in Sarasota, Florida. It was a story of something that occurred there that was rather humorous. An elderly Florida woman did her shopping and upon returning to her car, found four men in the act of leaving with her vehicle. She dropped her shopping bags and, having prepared for a moment like this when she would need protection, drew from her purse a handgun. Not only had she been trained and licensed to carry it, she was prepared to fire it. She yelled at the top of her lungs, “I have a gun, and I know how to use it! Get out of the car, now!” Continue Reading…

Pastor and freelance writer Mark Buchanan tells about a conversation he had with a young philosophy student in his early twenties. Mark had officiated a wedding on a gorgeous day on the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia, and at the reception the student asked Mark if he really believed all that religious stuff he had spouted at the church. Continue Reading…

THE FIRE OF GOD’S JUDGMENT IS COMING! Christ warns this church in Thyatira, just as He warned the prophets of Baal through Elijah. The One is coming with eyes of fire and feet with red hot heat.

At 2 o’clock in the morning, if you heard a noise, got up, looked out your window, and saw the woods around you on fire and could tell by the direction of the wind that the fire was going to sweep over your neighbor’s house, where they were sleeping, what would you do?

Would you stand there and debate, “Wouldn’t they rather be left alone? They’re probably sound asleep. Besides, if I get them up, they are going to have to run out in their pajamas and that might be embarrassing; they might be really uncomfortable with fire trucks and news vans and camer as everywhere. I tell you what – I won’t disturb them!”?

Would that be the right and loving thing to do? No! The loving thing would be to run over, break their door down, yell “Fire!”, run upstairs, turn on the lights, and wake them so they can get out.

Confronting the sinner for this church, and for any church, is the action of a loving body that attempts to awaken the sinning believer who is being deceived by the spiritually deadening pleasure of sin. It is the loving, firm, caring, passionate attempt to rescue someone before the fire of judgment reaches them (Stephen Davey sermon).

sermon illustrations

I read, some time ago, of David Buick, who founded the Buick car company. He made millions off the sale of his particular line of cars and lived the life of a millionaire. However, Buick would lose his fortune. In fact, he became so destitute that he had to declare bankruptcy and, in the later years of his life, was too poor to buy a car with his name on it. William Durant ultimately brought the Buick line of cars into General Motors. Durant also bought out Olds of Oldsmobile and others as well. He took all the automotive strings and pulled them together. If you want to read an interesting biography, read his. Durant was a creative genius, but he was not able to organize what he created. He eventually, even tried to compete against his own creation, General Motors, and lost his fortune. He also, became too poor to own a car. His last job, before he died, was managing a bowling alley. All of these stories pale in significance when you think of the One who rode upon the wind; who had multitudes of cherubim and seraphim singing of His holiness and His glory. He came down and became one of us. Jesus gave up His rights to live like God (From Stephen Davey’s sermon on Four Rights that Christ Gave Up).


sermon illustrations

The unity of the church is inward not outward. When the Bible talks about unity it is not talking about some kind of outward unity, it is talking about an inward unity. It is talking about something that is internally compelling, not externally controlled. It is more heartfelt than creedal. It is not particularly verbal as much as it is emotional, spiritual. It is the union of hearts and minds and souls in common cause. It’s not people just being united because they’re in the same container; it’s people who are literally attracted to each other because they’re pulled by the same power.

Let me see if I can illustrate that. If you have a bag filled with marbles you have a certain unity. You have one bag full of marbles and all those marbles are pushed against each other, packed together. But that which binds them into unity is the container. It’s something on the outside that holds them. As soon as you tear the bag, the marbles are everywhere because there’s nothing intrinsic or internal to keep them together. It’s purely the package they’re in, the container.

But on the other hand, if you have a magnet and you put that magnet into some metal shavings, the shavings will all adhere to the magnet. Not because there is an external container but because there’s an internal force. And they are pulled to each other because they are all pulled by the same force pulling through each other. And that’s how the church is to be, it is not a collection of marbles in the same bag, it is people who are pressed against each other because they’re all magnetized by the same force, which is the power of Jesus Christ. That’s the internal unity of the church. We are pulled to each other because we are pulled through each other by the power that pulls, which is Christ (MacArthur’s sermon on Phil. 2:1).


Valentine Illustration

February 13, 2014 — Leave a comment

A husband read a book entitled, You Can Be THE Man of Your House and got all fired up about what he was reading. He marched into the kitchen and announced to his wife, “From now on, you need to know that I am the man of this house . . . You will prepare me a gourmet meal tonight, and when I’m finished eating my meal, you will serve me a decadent dessert. . . . Afterwards, you are going to draw me a bath so I can relax. . . . Then . . . guess who’s going to dress me and comb my hair?”

His wife replied, “The funeral director would be my first guess” (Stephen Davey).


I voted today for the favorite 2014 Super Bowl commercial on YouTube. I voted for Duracell: Trust Your Power – NFL’s Derrick Coleman, Seattle Seahawks.

Since Derrick Coleman was three years old he has been deaf. When he was in elementary school he wore bulky hearing aids, which helped his hearing but also invited smart-alecks to ridicule. His cruel schoolmates nicknamed him “Four Ears.”

How did Derrick respond?

When his schoolmates would start making fun of him, Derrick would just turn the volume down on his hearing aids. “You guys have to actually listen when somebody’s talking. I just turn ‘em off.”

When he was in high school five bullies jumped on him and beat him up just because he was different.

How did Derrick respond?

He went home and to his back bedroom and did push ups. Boy did that ever pay off! I wonder if the five bullies were watching Sunday night’s Super Bowl game and the Seattle Seahawk’s Derrick Coleman play as the first NFL deaf offensive player?

Coleman hoped to be drafted in the 2012 NFL draft. But his name was not called.

How did Derrick’s respond?

“They didn’t call my name, told me it was over,’’ Coleman says in the Duracell commercial, referring to the fact that he went unchosen in the 2012 NFL draft. “But I’ve been deaf since I was 3, so I didn’t listen.’’ He did not give up and was eventually asked to play as a back up full-back for the Seahawks.

What a powerful lesson if only we are listening. Life is hard, people are insensitive, and we can overcome. The Duracell commerical ends by saying, “Trust Your Power.” We can’t trust our power but we can trust the power that is in us if we know Christ as Savior. The Apostle Paul testified, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Christ takes the ‘t out of can’t.


sermon illustrations

Marcel Sternberger was a methodical man of nearly fifty, with bushy white hair, guileless brown eyes, and the bouncing enthusiasm of a dancer from his native Hungary. He always took the 9:09 Long Island Railroad train from his suburban home to Woodside, New York, where he caught a subway into the city.

On the morning of January 10, 1948, Sternberger boarded the 9:09 as usual. En route, he suddenly decided to visit Laszlo Victor, a Hungarian friend who lived in Brooklyn and was ill. Accordingly, at Ozone Park, Sternberger changed to the subway for Brooklyn, went to his friend’s house, and stayed until mid-afternoon. He then boarded a Manhattan-bound subway for his Fifth Avenue office.
Now, Marcel tells his story.

The car was crowded, and there seemed to be no chance of a seat. But just as I entered, a man sitting by the door suddenly jumped up to leave, and I slipped into the empty place. I’ve been living in New York long enough not to start conversations with strangers. But, being a photographer, I have the peculiar habit of analyzing people’s faces, and I was struck by the features of the passenger on my left. He was probably in his late thirties, and when he glanced up, his eyes seemed to have a hurt expression in them. He was reading a Hungarian newspaper, and something prompted me to say in Hungarian, “I hope you don’t mind if I glance at your paper.”

The man seemed surprised to be addressed in his native language. But he answered politely, “You may.”
During the half hour ride to town, we had quite a conversation. He said his name was Bela Paskin. A law student when World War II started, he had been put into a German labor battalion and sent to the Ukraine. Later he was captured by the Russians and put to work burying the German dead. After the war, he covered hundreds of miles on foot until he reached his home in Debratzin, a large city in eastern Hungary. I myself knew Debratzin quite well, and we talked about it for a while.

Then he told me the rest of his story. When he went to the apartment once occupied by his father, mother, brothers, and sisters, he found strangers living there. Then he went upstairs to the apartment that he and his wife once had. It also was occupied by strangers. None of them had ever heard of his family. As he was leaving, full of sadness, a boy ran after him, calling, “Uncle Paskin, Uncle Paskin.”

The child was the son of some old neighbors of his and he went to the boy’s home to talk with the boy’s parents. “Your whole family is dead,” they told him, “the Nazis took them and your wife to Auschwitz.”

Auschwitz was one of the worst Nazi concentration camps. Paskin gave up all hope. A few days later, too heartsick to remain any longer in Hungary, he set out again on foot, stealing across border after border, until he managed to immigrate to the United States in October 1947, just three months before I met him on the subway.
All the time he had been talking, I kept thinking about a young woman whom I had met recently at the home of friends who had also been from “Debratzin”. She had been sent to Auschwitz; from there she had been transferred to work in a German munitions factory. Her relatives had been killed in the gas chambers. Later, she was liberated by the Americans and was brought to America in the first boatload of displaced persons in 1946.

Her story had moved me so much that I had written down her address and phone number, intending to invite her to meet my family and thus, help relieve the terrible emptiness in her life. It seemed impossible that there could by any connection between these two people, but as I neared my station, I fumbled anxiously in my address book. I asked in what I hoped was a casual voice, “Was your wife’s name Marya?”

He turned pale. “Yes!” he answered. “How did you know?”

He looked as if he were about to faint. I said, “Let’s get off the train.”

I took him by the arm at the next station and led him to a phone booth. He stood there like a man in a trance while

I dialed her phone number. It seemed hours before Marya answered. When I heard her voice at last, I told her who I was and asked her to describe her husband. She seemed surprised at the question, but gave me a description. Then I asked her where she had lived in Debratzin, and she told me the address. Asking her to hold the line, I turned to Paskin and said, “Did you and your wife live on such- and-such a street?”

“Yes!” Bela exclaimed.

He was trembling. “Try to be calm,” I urged him. “Something miraculous is about to happen to you. Here, take this telephone and talk to your wife!”

Seeing that he was so overwhelmed that he couldn’t talk coherently, I took the receiver from his shaking hands.

“Stay where you are,” I told Marya, “I am sending your husband to you.”

At first I thought I had better accompany Paskin, lest the man should faint from excitement, but I decided that this was a moment in which no strangers should intrude. Putting Paskin into a taxicab, I directed the driver to take him to Marya’s address, paid the fare, and said goodbye.

Bela Paskin’s reunion with his wife was a moment so poignant, so electric, that afterward neither he nor Marya could recall much of the details. Marya told me, “I remember only that when I left the phone, I walked to the mirror like in a dream to see if maybe my hair had turned gray. The next thing I know, a taxi stops in front of the house, and it is my husband who comes toward me. Details I cannot remember; only this I know – that I was happy for the first time in many years . . . Even now it is difficult to believe that it happened. We have both suffered so much.”

“But,” Bela adds, “God has brought us together.”