Preachers, Preaching, Faith and MORE

[Guest guest]

A good sermon leaves you wondering how the preacher knew all about

you.

 

When the congregation of a drought-stricken area gathered to pray for

rain, the preacher said: " Brethren, we are here to pray for rain.

Where is your faith? Not one of you brought an umbrella! "

 

A farmer purchased an old, run-down, abandoned farm with plans to

turn it into a thriving enterprise. The fields were grown over with

weeds, the farmhouse was falling apart, and the fences were broken

down. During his first day of work, the town preacher stops by to

bless the man's work, saying, " May you and God work together to make

this the farm of your dreams! " A few months later, the preacher stops

by again to call on the farmer. Lo and behold, it's a completely

different place. The farm house is completely rebuilt and in

excellent condition, there is plenty of cattle and other livestock

happily munching on feed in well-fenced pens, and the fields are

filled with crops planted in neat rows. " Amazing! " the preacher

says. " Look what God and you have accomplished together! " " Yes,

reverend, " says the farmer, " but remember what the farm was like when

God was working it alone! "

 

A preacher in the East End of London was speaking of the love of God-

so full and boundless-and compared it to the love of a mother, which

remains constant and true even when her children sinned. " Nothing, "

he said, " can destroy the love of a mother. " At the close of the

service, when he went out into the cold, rough night, a little girl

in rags pulled at his coat with a trembling hand, and said: " Please,

sir, you forgot something tonight. There is something that can take

away a mother's love. " " What do you mean, my child? " he

asked. " Please, sir, liquor will. It took away my mother's love, and

I know. "

 

 

Now a couple from some great folks:

 

 

There is no God, " the foolish saith, But none, " There is no sorrow. "

And nature oft the cry of faith In bitter need will borrow: Eyes

which the preacher could not school, By wayside graves are raised;

And lips say, " God be pitiful, " Who ne'er said, " God be praised. "

Elizabeth Browning

 

Said of the Irish itinerant preacher the Reverend Mr. Whitefield, who

arrived in Philadelphia in 1739. Every accent, every emphasis, every

modulation of voice, was so perfectly well turned and well placed,

that, without being interested in the subject, one could not help

being pleased with the discourse . . . .

Benjamin Franklin

 

The preacher and the writer may seem to have an... easy task. At

first sight, it may seem that they have only to proclaim and declare;

but in fact, if their words are to enter men's hearts and bear fruit,

they must be the right words, shaped cunningly to pass men's defenses

and explode silently and effectually within their minds. This means,

in practice, turning a face of flint toward the easy clich?the well-

worn religious cant and phraseology - dear, no doubt, to the

faithful, but utterly meaningless to those outside the fold. It means

learning how people are thinking and how they are feeling; it means

learning with patience, imagination and ingenuity the way to pierce

apathy or blank lack of understanding. I sometimes wonder what hours

of prayer and thought lie behind the apparently simple and

spontaneous parables of the Gospel.

J. B. Phillips

 

 

Enjoy all!..........bob