God Sermon Illustrations

God Sermon Illustrations

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There may be times when you could wish for more striking signs of God's presence and power in the world and in your own life: a bush that burns and is not consumed, like that which told Moses that God was nigh; a fleece that is wet with dew on the rock that is dry, like that which let Gideon know that God was speaking to him; the shadow going back on the face of the dial, like that which assured Isaiah that his life would be spared fifteen years. But when you stop to think of it, this longing is without reason. What more striking evidence could you have that there is a God and that God is in the world, that God has dealings with you, than conscience within your soul? How could God have made himself more real to us than by conscience?

The author of a drama dealing with Joseph and his temptation in the house of Potiphar represents Potiphar's wife as answering the objection of Joseph that he could not sin against God by taking her skirt and throwing it over the bust of an Egyptian god which stood in her chamber. "Now," she said, "God will not see." But Joseph answered, "My God sees."

Thou art the Unapproached Whose height
Enables Thee to stoop,
Whose holiness is undefiled
To handle hearts that droop.

How Thou canst think so well of me
And be the God Thou art
Is darkness to my intellect
But sunshine to my heart.—F. W. Faber

(Job 33. 12, 13; Acts 17. 24; Rom. 11. 33).

God writes with a pen that never blots, speaks with a tongue that never slips, and acts with a hand that never fails.

(Luke 18. 27; Heb. 6. 17, 18).

Greatness of God

Dr. Bartoli in his `Knox Club Lectures' described a picture he saw in the `Salon de Mai', Paris, an annual exhibition of paintings and sculptures. In the foreground, hands were seen raised toward a beautiful radiant light. There were hands of all kinds, shapes and colors: white, yellow, brown, red hands; finely-chiseled, refined hands of ladies; horned, rough hands of workmen and artisans; powerful hands of strong men; supple, long-fingered hands of musicians; fat, podgy hands. In the light of the rising sun, still visible, the sacred name of God shone across the sky, and all hands all over the earth were raised to God.

Everywhere in the world—among civilized, cultured races, and among primitive and aboriginal peoples, in the heat of tropical climes and amid Arctic snows—man recognizes a Creator, a God to Whom they may raise their hands in worship and prayer.

(Exod. 20. 3, 20, 21; Rev. 5. 13, 14).

'God is great in great things and very great in little things,' said Henry Dyer.

A party stood on the Matterhorn admiring the scenery, the great things that came from the hands of God. Among them was a scientist who produced a microscope, caught a fly and placed it under the glass. He reminded the party that the legs of the house-fly in England were naked. Then he showed them the fly of the Swiss Mountains under the microscope, with legs thickly covered with hair, proving God's greatness in His provision for little things.

(Gen. 1; Job. 38. 4-41; 39. 1-5).

How great, how mighty, how sublime!
O'er every nation, every clime
He is the Lord. Oh tell His worth,
To Him alone they owe their birth!
Say, canst Thou make one tiny star
To guide the mariner from afar?
Or make a blade of grass to grow?
His marvelous wisdom—who can know?
The birds, the beasts, the flowers as well
God's power and greatness surely tell;
For ripened fruit and golden grain
He sends the sunshine and the rain.
In every vale and leafy glade
God's handiwork is there displayed.
Those rocks! Those mountains towering high
That rear their summits to the sky,
Where only eagles' pinions rise
Beyond the scan of mortal eyes.
To speak one message all combine—
`The hand that made them is Divine.'

But all creation's works alone
Could ne'er the heart of God make known.
Redemption's plan—so great, so vast—
Is e'en by angels' grasp surpassed.
Behold Him in a manger lie,
The Lord of earth, and sea, and sky.
See Him in Gethsemane
In such dreadful agony—
While those He loves in slumber sleep;
Their vigil they can never keep.
Hush! while on Calvary's Cross we gaze,
What words are these the Savior says?
'Father, forgive them!' Oh what grace
To rebel sons of Adam's race,
Pardon from an offended God,
Pardon through the Savior's blood?
`Tis finished!' now the Victor cries,
Then bows His sacred head and dies.

Surpassing wisdom, power and might
Revealing God in purest light,
Frail stammering tongues can never tell
Such love immense, unsearchable!
But when we see Thy face above
And know the fullness of Thy love,
With ransomed and unsinning heart
We'll shout, 'My God, how great Thou art!'—E. S. Haddow

(Job. 26. 7; Isa. 40. 9; Rom. 11. 33)

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