He Died For Me

Planting flowers on a recent grave in a little cemetery in the far West, a young man seemed overcome with emotion. A stranger passing, thought to comfort him by speaking a kind word, and as he drew near he observed a small cross at the top of the grave on which the words, "He died for me" were inscribed.

The story briefly told was that during the war, this young man, who was an only son was called to the front. His parents were well-nigh frantic with grief. A cousin, who was an orphan, volunteered to take his place, and in the first battle was slain. That young man lived because his substitute died, and he loved to confess it.

- John Ritchie, 500 Gospel Sermon Illustrations (Kregel Publications, 1987)

Not So Important To Make Others Feel Important

Queen Victoria once shared her impressions of her two most famous prime ministers.  Of William Gladstone, she said, "When I am with him, I feel I am with one of the most important leaders in the world."

On the other hand, she confessed that when she was with Disraeli, he made her feel "as if I am one of the most important leaders of the world."

- Haddon Robinson, "On Target," Focal Point, quoting from David Smith, The Friendless American Male

Nothing To Be Afraid Of

Some years ago I was standing before the cage of a wildcat in the zoo of one of our large cities.  As I stood there wondering just what good purpose a wildcat might serve, an attendant entered the cage through a door on the opposite side.  He had nothing in his hands but a broom.  Carefully closing the door, he proceeded to sweep the floor of the cage.

The shivers went down my spine as I saw him in there alone with that wildcat.  So far as I could tell he had no weapon with which to protect himself in case of attack.  But he seemed not to be afraid in the least and went about his work.

In spite of his composure, I supposed that when he got to where the cat lay he would treat him with the utmost respect, but nothing of the kind.  When he got near the beast, he gave him a shove with the broom to make him get out of the way.  The wildcat made no response except a disapproving hiss, after which he lay down in another corner of the cage.

"You certainly are a brave man," I said to the attendant.

"No, I ain't brave," the man answered, continuing to sweep.

"Well then," said I, "that cat must be tame."

"No," he answered again, "he ain't tame."

"Well," I said again, "if you are not brave and that cat in not tame then I cannot understand why he does not attack you."

The man chuckled.  "Mister," he said, "he's old--and he ain't got no teeth."

- Carl Armerding, quoted in The Speaker's Quote Book (Christian Literature Crusade, 1997)

Participating In Suffering

Today I visited a little girl dying of cancer. Her body was disfigured by her disease and its treatment. She was in constant pain. As I entered her room, I was overcome by her suffering, which seemed unjust, unfair, unreasonable. Even more overpowering was the presence of her grandmother lying in bed beside her with her huge body embracing this precious eight-year-old.

I stood in awe, knowing I was on holy ground. I will never forget the great, gentle arms of this grandmother. She never spoke but simply held her granddaughter, participating in suffering that she could not relieve. No words could express the magnitude of her love.

 — Leonard Sweet, Postmodern Pilgrims 
(Broadman & Holman, 2000)

The Ancient Art Of Conversation

In 1997, the Washington Capitals were hot, skating their way into the Stanley Cup finals. By the fall of 1999, they had slipped to one of the worst records in the NHL. Coach Ron Wilson decided drastic measures were necessary and quickly changed their strategy. Yet injuries abounded, and the losses mounted. The team was skating on thin ice and couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

Just before Christmas, the team embarked on a late-night, seven-hour flight from Vancouver and did what they typically do on a flight of that duration: they popped in a video to pass the time. Then the VCR froze.

As the plane winged its way through the evening sky, one by one the players started talking with each other. They talked strategy. Obstacles. Key plays. Out of necessity, they rediscovered the ancient art of conversation. By the time the plane touched down, the Capitals had picked apart their game and knew what needed to be done.

In the weeks that followed, they became virtually unstoppable, going on an eleven-game winning streak. Team goaltender Olaf Kolzig reflected, “Maybe it was fate the VCR didn’t work. It gave us a chance to just roam about the plane and talk with guys. It was a good way to clear the air.” Indeed. They went 12 – 2 – 3 after the busted VCR incident.

 — Bob De Moss, Plugged In 
radio broadcast (April 4, 2001)

Too Much Criticism, Too Little Gratitude

I was helping a friend plant a tree at the local park. She had planted twenty-three trees already, most of them without any help. The trees were donated by family members in remembrance of loved ones. While we were working, a woman approached us. I recognized her and assumed she was there to say thank you.

“Remember the tree you planted for me the other day?” she asked.

My friend nodded.

“You planted it too close to the road. It needs to be moved.” Then she turned and left.

I don’t think this woman was intentionally rude. She was probably distracted, or maybe she’d had a bad day, but, still — of the twenty-three trees my friend planted, only two people remembered to say, “Thank you.”

 — Teresa Bell Kindred, 
Kentucky Living (October 2000)

Why Is Daddy Afraid Too?

One summer night during a severe thunderstorm, a mother was tucking her small son into bed.  She was about to turn the light off when he asked in a trembling voice, "Mommy, will you stay with me all night?"  Smiling, the mother gave him a warm, reassuring hug and said tenderly, "I can't, dear.  I have to sleep in Daddy's room."

A long silence followed.  At last, it was broken by a shaky voice saying, "The big sissy!"

- Roy B. Zuck, The Speaker's Quote Book (Christian Literature Crusade, 1997)

The Portion Entrusted To Me

Executive Bob Shank once wrote:
Most everything I needed to know in life I learned in high school football.  My team was a melting pot of ethnic flavors, coached by a similarly broad mix of committed men.  My mentor was a 6'5", 260-pound persuader named Manny Penaflor.

As the giant on the defensive line (I weighed in at 172 pounds, minus gear), Manny would often start with me when demonstrating a point.  One day as we lined up for scrimmage, Manny decided to capture a teaching opportunity.  He had a peculiar way of seizing our attention--he grabbed your face mask and pulled you up real close, so you wouldn't miss a single word.

On this particular day, he grabbed my face mask and yelled in his distinctive accent, "Chank, you're a defensive tackle, not the whole team.  I don't want you playing the whole field.  Here's your job."

He let me go and used his foot to scratch a ten-foot square around my spot on the line.  "Chank, you see this square?"  I couldn't miss it.  "This square is yours.  Anybody from the other team who comes into this square, it's your job to put them on their butt.  You got that?"

When he was convinced I understood my assignment, he moved to the middle guard, Ernie Norton, and went through the same theatrics.  Property rights were assigned in 100-square-foot increments to five linemen and two linebckers.  None of us could ever say we didn't know what was expected of us.  We knew our personal responsibilities.

I think of Manny often when I tense up over what needs to be done on a global scale.  I have a tendency to become frustrated, then fatalistic, because I can't get my arms around all there is to do.  It's at those moments that I need to remember I'm not assigned the whole planet.  I've only been entrusted with a particular slice of it.  This is the portion of the   world for which God will one day hold me accountable.

- Bob Shank, Total Life Management (Multnomah Press, 1990)

Relearning A Boy's Way

A father became upset about the time his six-year-old son took to get home from school.  He determined to make the trip himself to see how long it should take to cover that distance.  He concluded that twenty minutes maximum was enough, but his son was taking well over an hour.

Finally the father decided to walk with his son.  After that trip the man said, "The twenty minutes I thought reasonable was right, but I failed to consider such important things as a side trip to track down a trail of ants. . . or a stop to watch a man fix a flat. . . or the time it took to swing around a half-dozen telephone poles. . . or how much time it took for a boy just to get acquainted with two stray dogs.

"In short, I had forgotten what it is like to be six years old."

- submitted by Don E. McKenzie, Parables, Etc. (October 1993)

Praising Even At Their Bleakest

One winter I sat in army fatigues somewhere near Anniston, Alabama, eating my supper out of a mess kit. The infantry training battalion that I had been assigned to was on bivouac. There was a cold drizzle of rain, and everything was mud. The sun had gone down.

I was still hungry when I finished and noticed that a man nearby had left something that he was not going to eat. It was a turnip. When I asked him if I could have it, he tossed it over to me. I missed the catch, and the turnip fell to the ground, but I wanted it so badly that I picked it up and started eating it, mud and all.

Time deepened and slowed down. With a lurch of the heart, I saw suddenly that not only was the turnip good, but the mud was good too, even the drizzle and cold were good, even the Army that I had dreaded for months was good.

Sitting there in the Alabama winter with my mouth full of cold turnip and mud, I could see at least for a moment how if you ever took truly to heart the ultimate goodness and joy of things, even at their bleakest, the need to praise someone or something for it would be so great that you might even have to go out and speak of it to the birds of the air.

 — Frederick Buechner, 
The Sacred Journey (HarperOne, 1991)

He Naturally Knows Where He Is

The floor of the Princeton gym was being resurfaced, so Princeton basketball player (and later United States senator) Bill Bradley had to practice at Lawrenceville School. His first afternoon at Lawrenceville, he began by shooting fourteen-foot jump shots from the right side. He got off to a bad start, and he kept missing them. Six in a row hit the back rim of the basket and bounced out.

He stopped and seemed to make an adjustment in his mind. Then he went up for another jump shot from the same spot and hit it cleanly. Four more shots went in without a miss.  Then he paused and said, “You want to know something? That basket is about an inch and a half low.”

Some weeks later, I went back to Lawrenceville with a steel tape measure. I borrowed a stepladder and measured the height of the basket. It was nine feet, ten and seven-eighths inches above the floor, or one and one-eighth inches too low.

 — John McPhee, A Sense of Where You Are (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1965)

Brothers In Arms

Jim McNulty is a detective constable in Scotland.  He went online one day to report that a London officer had been killed in the line of duty and two others injured.  On reading this, comrades from other countries wondered why bulletproof vests hadn't worked.  McNulty explained that the government doesn't provide vests for police officers in Great Britain. 

Las Vegas Police Lt. Dennis Cobb immediately responded via email offering his spare vest.  Within days McNulty was deluged with messages from police all over United States and Canada offering their vests, which were due for replacement but still effective.  A few weeks later, an initial shipment of 30 vests was transported free of charge to London's Heathrow.  Since news of the program broke, thousands more vests have been sent to Britain.

McNulty said, "All the officers here are absolutely astounded at the lengths their fellow officers in the United States have gone to for them."

- Michele D. Kinnamon, CompuServe Magazine

"I Love You" Is A Lot To Hold On To

Kelly James, a landscape architect, and two of his friends were climbing Mount Hood in Welches, Oregon, when they encountered a blizzard. Kelly called his family on his cell phone, but the storm was too severe for rescue workers to come in. All three hikers perished.

On the CBS Evening News, Katie Couric asked Kelly’s widow if she was angry with her husband for climbing the mountain. Karen James replied, “I’m really sad our journey is over for a while, and I miss him terribly. But he loved life so much, and he taught me how to love. He taught me how to live. And I don’t know how you can be angry at someone who loved their family, who loved God . . . and gave back so much more than he took.”

When asked how her husband would like to be remembered, Karen said, “Kelly had this little ornament, and he’s had it since he was little. It’s a manger. It’s just this little plastic thing. And it’s always the tradition that [our son] Jack and Kelly put it on the tree together. So I said this Christmas, ‘We’re going to put that ornament on the tree.’ One of the things that we really understand about Christmas is how that little baby born in a barn is the reason our family has so much strength now. And that is really important to Kelly.”

Couric asked if the family’s confidence in God had been tested by her husband’s death. “No, it was never tested,” Karen answered. “I remember one time we were watching TV, and Kelly said to me, ‘I can’t wait to go to heaven.’ I said, ‘What?’ We were watching some show that had nothing to do with heaven. And he said, ‘Yeah, that’s going to be really cool.’ And I said, ‘Can you hold off? Can we wait?’ But he wasn’t scared. Those conversations are what I hold on to.”

When asked if there were any lessons to be learned from her husband’s tragedy, Karen replied, “I’ve told a colleague of mine that men should hold their wives really, really tight, because you don’t know when our journey’s going to end. My journey ended with an ‘I love you.’ And . . . for others, if their journey ends with an ‘I love you,’ it’s a lot to hold on to.”

 — Ted De Haas, “Widow Thankful for Her Husband’s Life and Witness,” PreachingToday.com; source; “Climber’s Widow Tells Her Story,” 
CBS Evening News (December 21, 2006)

Are You Alert Enough To Get The Message?

A shipping company had advertised a job opening for a ship's radio operator and the outer office was crowded with applicants for the position.  They were waiting to be called in turn, and were talking to each other loudly enough to be heard over the sound of a loudspeaker.

Another applicant entered, filled out an application, and sat quietly for a few moments.  Suddenly, he rose and walked into the office marked "Private."  A few minutes later, he came out wearing a broad grin--he had been hired.

A man in the waiting room protested.  "Look here," he said.  "We were here first, why did you go in there before us?"

The successful applicant replied, "Any one of you could have landed that job, but none of you were listening to the Morse code signals coming over the loudspeaker.  The message was, 'We desire to fill this position with someone who is constantly alert.  If you are getting this message, come into the private office immediately."

- submitted by William F. Stehr, Parables, Etc. (September 1992)

Keep On Singing

Like any good mother, when Karen found out that another baby was on the way, she did what she could to help her three-year-old son, Michael, prepare for a new sibling.  They found out that the new baby is going to be a girl, and day after day, night after night, Michael sings to his sister in Mommy's tummy.  The pregnancy progressed normally for Karen.  But when it was time to give birth to the baby, complications arise.  Michael's little sister is born in serious condition.  The infant has to be placed in the neonatal intensive care unit at St. Mary's Hospital Knoxville, Tennessee.

The days inch by.  The little girl gets worse.  The pediatric specialist tells the parents, "There is very little hope.  Be prepared for the worst."

Karen and her husband contact a local cemetery about a burial plot.  They had fixed up a special room in their home for the new baby, but now they plan a funeral.  Michael keeps begging his parents to let him see his sister, "I want to sing to her," he says.

Week two in intensive care.  Things don't look good.  Michael keeps nagging about singing to his sister, but kids are never allowed in Intensive Care.  Karen makes up her mind.  She will take Michael whether they like it or not.  If he doesn't see his sister now, he may never see her alive.  She dresses him in an oversized scrub suit and marches him into ICU.  He looks like a walking laundry basket, but the head nurse recognizes him as a child and bellows, "Get that kid out of here now!  No children are allowed in ICU."  The mother rises up strong in Karen, and the usually mild-mannered lady glares steel-eyed into the head nurse's face, her lips a firm line.  "He is not leaving until he sings to his sister!"

Karen tows Michael to his sister's bedside.  He gazes at the tiny infant losing the battle to live.  And he begins to sing.  In the pure-hearted voice of a three-year-old, Michael sings:  "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are gray..."

Instantly the baby girl responds.  The pulse rate becomes calm and steady.

"Keep on singing, Michael."  "You never know, dear, how much I love you.  Please don't take my sunshine away..."

The ragged, strained breathing becomes as smooth as a kitten's purr.  "The other might, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms..."  Michael's little sister relaxes as rest, healing rest, seems to sweep over her.  Tears conquer the face of the bossy head nurse.  Karen glows.  "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.  Please don't take my sunshine away."

The baby is well enough to go home!  Woman's Day Magazine called it "The Miracle of a Brother's Song."  The medical staff just called it a miracle.  Karen called it a miracle of God's love.

- Robert J. Morgan, Preacher's Sourcebook of Creative Sermon Illustrations (Thomas Nelson, 2007)

Find Time, Even If It's Only A Few Minutes

John Erskine, the well-known author, professor, and lecturer, once wrote that he learned the most valuable lesson of his life when he was fourteen.  His piano teacher asked him how much he practiced and how long at a stretch.  The boy replied that he practiced for an hour or more at a time.

"Don't do that," warned the teacher.  "When you grow up, time won't come in long stretches.  Practice in minutes, whenever you can find them--five or ten minutes before school, after lunch, between chores.  Spread the practice throughout the day, and music will become part of your life."

Erskine stated that the observance of this advice enabled him to live a comparatively complete life as a creative writer, outside his regular duties as an instructor.  He wrote most of Helen of Troy, his most famous work, on streetcars while commuting between his home and the university.

- Roy B. Zuck, The Speaker's Quote Book (Christian Literature Crusade, 1997)

Costly Rescue, Gracious Rescue

For four years Emperor Theodore III of Ethiopia had held a group of fifty-three European captives (thirty adults and twenty-three children), including some missionaries and a British consul. By letter Queen Victoria pleaded in vain with Theodore to release the captives, who were held in a remote nine-thousand-foot-high bastion deep in the interior.

Finally, the queen ordered a full-scale military expedition from India to march into Ethiopia, not to conquer the country and make it a British colony, but simply to rescue a tiny band of civilians.

The invasion force included thirty-two thousand men, heavy artillery, and forty-four elephants to carry the guns. Provisions included fifty thousand tons of beef and pork and thirty thousand gallons of rum. Engineers built landing piers, water treatment plants, a railroad, and a telegraph line to the interior, plus many bridges. All of this was necessary to fight one decisive battle, after which the prisoners were released. Then everyone packed up and went home. The British expended millions of pounds to rescue a handful of captives.

 — Jim Reapsome, 
Current Thoughts and Trends (May 1999)

Thankful Even In The Storm

A woman was always able to find something for which she was thankful.  One morning there was a terrible snow storm, but she still showed up in time for work, and she was thankful.  Her supervisor was surprised to see her, and was equally surprised to hear that she was thankful to make it to work in such a storm.

When asked why she was so thankful, she said that she was thankful that she lived so close to work.  Her supervisor still did not understand how she could even walk on the icy sidewalks with the blowing winds.  She said that she was so thankful that she was able to crawl to work on her hands and knees.  Her supervisor was astounded, and asked what was so wonderful about crawling to work on her hands and knees.  The woman smiled and said, "During the blizzard in the early morning light, no one was able to see me!"

- Submitted by Dr. James Wideman, The Pastor's Story File (November 1994)

Accomplishing More In Failures

In his award-winning Profiles in Courage, John F. Kennedy tells the story of George W. Norris of Nebraska.  Norris began his career as a country teacher on the plains of Nebraska, then a small-town lawyer, a local prosecuting attorney and judge.  In 1903, he entered the House of Representatives, and he was later elected to the Senate.  Kennedy describes him as a "chunky figure" clothed in "drab black suits, white shirts, and little shoestring ties."

Norris was an independent-thinking Republican who sometimes took up unpopular causes and fought uphill battles, saying, "I would rather go down to my political grave with a clear conscience than ride in the chariot of victory."

Interestingly, he lost many of his most anguishing political fights.  But years later, looking back over his life and career, Norris made this observation to a friend:  It happens very often that one tries to do something and fails.  He feels discouraged, and yet he may discover years afterward that the very effort he made was the reason why somebody else took it up and succeeded.  I really believe that whatever use I have been to progressive civilization has been accomplished in the things I failed to do rather than in the things I actually did do.

- John F. Kennedy, Profiles in Courage (Pocket Books, Inc., 1956)

There Is Something Waiting For Me

A self-made millionaire Eugene Lang greatly changed the lives of a sixth-grade class in East Harlem.  Mr. Lang had been asked to speak to a class of the fifty-nine sixth-graders.  What could he say to inspire these students, most of whom would drop out of school?  He wondered how he could get these predominantly black and Puerto Rican children even to look at him.

Scrapping his notes, he decided to speak to them from his heart.  "Stay in school," he admonished, "and I'll help pay the college tuition of every one of you."

At that moment the lives of those student changed.  For the first time they had hope.

One student said, "I had something to look forward to, something waiting for me.  It was a golden feeling."

Nearly ninety percent of that class went on to graduate from high school.

- Parade magazine

Mischief In The Dark

A young soldier and his commanding officer got on a train together.  The only available seats were across from an attractive young lady who was traveling with her grandmother.

As the four engaged in conversation, the soldier and the young lady kept eyeing one another.  There was an obvious mutual attraction.

Suddenly, the train went into a tunnel, sending the train car into darkness.  Immediately two sounds were heard: the smack of a kiss followed by the whack of a slap across someone's face.

The grandmother thought, I can't believe he kissed my granddaughter, but I'm glad she gave him the smack he deserved.

The commanding officer thought, I don't blame the boy for kissing the girl, but it's a shame that she missed him and hit me instead.

The young girl thought, I'm glad he kissed me, but I wish my grandmother hadn't slapped him for doing it.

And as the train broke into the sunlight, the soldier couldn't help but smile.  He had managed to kiss a pretty girl and slap his commanding officer and get away with both!

- Wayne Rice, Still More Hot Illustrations For Youth Talks (Zondervan Publishing House, 1999)

Frustrating Toil Becomes A Fun Goal

Henry Emerson Fosdick wrote about growing up in upstate New York where one summer's day his mother sent him out to pick a quart of raspberries. 

"I dragged my feet in rebellion," he said, "and the can was filling very slowly.  Then a new idea came: it would be fun to pick two quarts of raspberries and surprise her.  I had so interesting a time picking two quarts to the utter amazement of the household, and they never forgot it.  I have often forgotten the philosophy of it: we can change any situation by changing our attitude toward it."

- Alan Loy McGinnis, The Power of Optimism (Harper & Row Publishers, 1990)

Guilty With Krispy Kreme Money

After John Jefferson robbed a Krispy Kreme Doughnut store in Kingsport, Tennessee, in 1999, he bought dope. But he couldn’t enjoy it because he was plagued with guilt. Months later, even after moving to Kansas, the guilt remained. So Jefferson decided to confess.

Jefferson called Detective David Cole of the Kingsport Police Department and identified himself as the robber. “I couldn’t take it anymore,” Jefferson said in an interview. “I was sick and tired of the way I was living. I didn’t want to die in a crack house, and I didn’t want to smoke crack anymore.”

After pleading guilty, Jefferson served a six-year sentence. Upon his release, he tried several times to return to the Krispy Kreme store and repay the money he had stolen, but he kept turning around before he could get there. Finally, Jefferson called David Cole again and asked him to accompany him to the store. Though he had stolen $300, Jefferson returned $400 to the robbery victim, who asked him to donate the money to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.

“I felt like a million bucks when I walked out of that place,” Jefferson said.

 — “What Goes Around, Comes Around,” FoxNews.com (December 21, 2005)

Only Seven Years

In Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment, the central character, Raskolnikov, finally confessed his crime and was sent to Siberia.  Sonya, the girl who loved him, followed voluntarily and found a job in a town nearest his work camp.  At first, Raskolnikov was bitter about his exile and contemptuous of everyone, including Sonya.  But the day came when her unflagging love and humble service melted his heart, and he loved her in return.

Dostoyevsky writes, "They were renewed by love; the heart of each held infinite resources of life for the heart of the other.  they had another seven years to wait, and what terrible suffering and infinite happiness before them!  But he had risen again, and he knew it and felt it in his being, while she--she lived only in his life.  Seven years, only seven years!"

- Roy B. Zuck, The Speaker's Quote Book (Christian Literature Crusade, 1997)

How Hard Do You Hit Your Problem?

A young boy wanted to play contact sports, particularly American style football and rugby, but was hesitant to do so because he thought that he was too small.  One day he shared this concern with his sister's friend.  The sister's friend picked up a potato and a plastic straw.

He asked the young boy, "Do you think this little straw can go through this big potato?"

The boy replied, "No way, it's too small and thin."

His sister's friend said, "You are wrong."  Then with great speed he pushed the straw straight through the potato.

The boy sat wide-eyed and in disbelief.

His sister's friend said, "It does not matter how small you are, what matters is how hard you hit your problem."

- Craig A. Smith, Sermon Illustrations For An Asian Audience (OMF Literature Inc., 2004)