Children's Story-sermons

Front matter

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Foreword

The Story-Sermons contained in this book have all been told from the pulpit of the Fullerton Avenue Presb3rterian Church, Chicago, to the children who unfailingly attend the Sunday morning service. They are published at the earnest request and urgent solicitation of the children and the children's faiends.

The greatest work in the world is the interpretation of God to the soul of the child. The new emphasis which child culture is receiving calls for increasing effort on the part of the pastor, to care for the children of his church. The Sunday-school is insufficient The atmosphere of the church service is essential for the true religious development of the child. The pastor, the teacher, and the parent must be workers together with God.

If any apology were needed for the publication of another volume of children's story-sermons, it can be found in the now familiar words of Dr. Stanley Hall, " Of all the things that a teacher should know how to do, the most important, without any exception, is to know how to tell a story/'

8 Foreword

All that the present collection of Story- Sermons claims to do is to bear testimony to the fruithilness of a method that has been tested and tried. Little that is original will be found here, but much that is familiar will be met with, and there is some satisfaction in knowing that while many dry-as-dust and discursive sermons have been forgotten, many of these innocent looking sermons have been remembered and have borne fruit that is worth while. After all, the Story-Sermon is the Master's method, for '' the kingdom of heaven is like unto "

I wish to express my indebtedness to my friend Prof. Thomas C. Blaisdell, Ph. D., of the Michigan Agricultural College for his many helpful suggestions.

H.T. K.

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Contents

The Story of Etger-Heart (A Christinas Story)

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A Boy Who was a Hero ....

II A Boy Who Was a Hero

Not all the heroes are in story-books. No, mdeed. Some of them are living quite close to US, but we would hardly guess that they are heroes, because a real hero never tells about the splendid things he does. A real hero, you know, always keeps his heroism to himself. You can always be sure when a boy tells you about the great brave things he has done that he is a bully and not a hero. A hero never talks about himself.

Here b a real hero story. It is about a boy who ran an elevator in an old shaky, shackly office building, in Philadelphia. The people who knew him called him Billy. He was a lean, freckle-faced boy, with red hair, and nobody guessed that Billy was a hero. But he was, as this story will show. One day the old building began to tremble and shake, and then one of the walls fell out and the crowd gathered in the street and looked up at the windows of the building where the

i8

A Boy Who Was a Hero 19

men and women and little children were, and wondered what would become of them. But Billy never waited to wonder, but ran his old elevator up to the topmost story and came back with it crowded with frightened women and little children. He did that a second time, and a third, and a fourth, and a fifth, and a sixth. Up and down he went for nine times until only one side of the building was standing and the shaft of the elevator was bare and was swaying to and fro like a tree in the wind. The policemen tried to drag the boy away from his post, and the great crowd cried for him to stop, but he pulled the chain and began to rise again to the upper floor. "There's two men up there yet," said Billy, and away he went to the top, facing death every minute, but never waiting to guess what the end might be. Then through the cloud of dust the old elevator was seen coming down and in it there were three people. As it touched the ground, the other wall fell out, but the two men and Billy came out into the street unhurt. You should have heard the people cheer 1 They knew then that Billy, with his red hair and his freckled face, was a hero, and they wanted to catch him and carry him on their shoulders and make him say a speech and take up a collection for him, but Billy could not be found anywhere. He had slipped off unnoticed through the crowd, for it was supper time, and he had gone home to his mother.

This story does not need any sermon. If it did, all that the sermon could say would be : " Do things, don't talk about them. Do brave, kind, heroic, beautiful things, not because people see you, but because you are a hero at heart and because there are brave, kind, heroic, beautiful things to be done, and because God sees you."

Ill

God Wants Our Best

What would you think of a boy who kept an apple until it was rotten before he tried to eat it 7 What would you think of a girl who kept a rose until it wilted and faded before she tried to wear it 7 What would you think of a man who bought an automobile and never used it until it rusted 7 What would you think of boys and girls who waited until they were men and women before giving their hearts to the Lord Jesus 7 This is a story of a girl who did just that very thing. She thought she was not old enough, and she wished to have what she called a good time before she became a Christian. That was very foolish, as I will try to show you.

The girl's name was Margaret, and she lived in the great dty of St. Louis, where she had many friends and many places to go. One day her mother, whom she loved dearly, became ill, — ^very ill — and they had to call a nurse. The nurse was a very beautiful young lady and a lovely Christian, and she

22 Children's Sfx)ry-Sermon8

soon became much interested in Miss Margaret and her winning ways, and wondered why she had never given herself to the Lord Jesus. So she made up her mind that some day before she left she would talk to her about it. After her mother was much better, a friend sent in a bouquet of beautiful white carnations, and the nurse, who had been waiting for the best chance to speak to her litde friend, said to her : " I think we will not take these flowers to your mother just now. They are so fresh and sweet and beautifuL Let us keep them here for a few days, and then we can take them to her room." Margaret's eyes opened wide and she looked at the nurse to see what she really meant

The nurse was getting the vase and the water for the flowers, and Margaret became very angry and indignant and told the nurse that she should do no such thing, but should take the beautiful flowers to her darling mother immediately. Without sa3dng any more about the flowers and with the sweetest of smiles, the nurse put her arm around Margaret and said : '' Yes, I think too that mother ought to have the flowers when they are sweetest and freshest, and we will take them to her soon ; but don't you think also that God ought to have your life when it is

God Wants Our Best 23

at its best ? And yet you are keeping your beautiful young life from Him and waiting until you are older, and then you think you will be willing to give Him some of the days that are not your very best"

Do you think that was a good sermon 7 I know it was, but it didn't sound one litde bit like a sermon, and I am not surprised in the least that Margaret immediately saw what the nurse meant and that very day gave her heart to Jesus. We are never too young to love Him, and boys and girls should learn to love Jesus just as sweedy and just as surely and just as early as they learn to love their own fathers and mothers in their own homes.

IV A Boy Who Was a Minister

This is a missionary story. I have often read it, and I know it is true. It happened in a litde village, in an out-of-the-way comer of India, where a missionary had gone to baptize sixty or seventy men and women and to form them into a Christian church.

When the service began the missionary noticed a boy about twelve years of age, sitting away back in the comer of the building, looking very much interested and listening with all his might After he had baptized and received into the church all the grown-up men and women who had professed their faith in the Lord Jesus as their Saviour, he was surprised to see this boy come forward and stand in front of the pulpit. The missionary said to him, " What, my lad, do you want to unite with the church and sit down to the Lord's Supper?" The boy said, *'Yes, sir." The missionary looked at him lovingly, and said, " But you are very young, and I know nothing about you, and no one

A Boy Who Was a Minister 25

has taught you about the Christian faith, and after a while you may grow careless and indifferent Perhaps it will be better for you to wait I will be here again in less than a year, and if during that time you will study hard and prepare yourself, then, if you wish to unite with the church, I will receive you gladly." The boy said nothing, but turned away to his seat with a very sad heart, and the missionary saw that he was very, very much disappointed. Before the litde fellow reached his seat, the missionary saw all the people standing up and they all began to talk at once. After a little they allowed one man to speak for the rest, and he said : " Why, sir, this boy has taught us all we know about Jesus." And what he said proved to be the truth. That boy had learned the story of the Gospel at a mission school in a distant village, and had returned to his heathen home to tell the story of Jesus to his own people and to his friends. He read to them out of the New Testament until they too gave their hearts to God and were led to Jesus. So you see this litde lad was really the minister of the village.

Of course, I do not think that boys should preach like grown-up men, but I am sure if they love Jesus and live as He would like to have them live, kind and obedient and true, that they will be able to do more for Him than they could do, even if they were able to preach great, long, eloquent sermons. You know the Bible says, " A little child shall lead them." I want you to remember this verse for the text I have known fathers and mothers with whom ministers and Sunday-school teachers and elders and deacons seemed to have no influence, who were led to Jesus by their own littie boy or girl. We sing sometimes, " Jesus wants me for a sunbeam," and I think a sunbeam is the most beautiful and most useful thing in all the world.

A Man Who Forgot His Own Name

The other day the newspapers were full of the strangest story I think I ever heard. It was the story of a man who forgot his own name, and forgot his friends and his home and his loved ones and wandered away farther and farther, day after day, and didn't know that he was lost and didn't know where he was going. He was not a poor, good-fornothing man either, but was a man whom everybody in the city knew — a, lawyer and a judge. He wandered far away into the country, living on littie or nothing, begging for work, refusing to sit at the table with other people, and satisfied to eat just like a common, ordinary tramp. At last he found work, very humble work, and was satisfied.

All this time his wife and friends were worrying about him and thought he must be dead. But he had one friend who refused to think he was dead, and who searched for him day and night. At last he discovered traces of him, and one morning visited the factory where the lost man was sitting at a table making pearl buttons out of clam shells. Without waiting a moment, he went up to him and called him by his right name, and immediately the lost man recognized his friend, and knew where he was and remembered about his home. You can imagine how strange he felt, and how quickly he went with his friend, and how glad he was to get back to his own home and to his dear family. Somewhere in the Bible I have read a story something like this newspaper story. It is about a young man who left home one day, and never said where he was going, or what he was going to do, or when he would come back. He was rich and had beautiful clothes and many friends, but his money was soon spent and his good clothes soon became ragged, and the only work he could find was with a stranger who sent him out into the fields to feed the pigs. One day when he was in the field all alone, hungry and thirsty, he thought he heard some one call his name. He looked up and down and behind him and all around, but could see no one. He was sure he heard some one call his name, and the story says, " He came to himself," just like the man who was making the pearl buttons. Then he knew where he was, and

A Man Who Forgot His Own Name 29

without waitmg to say good-bye he hurried home, and sure enough, his father was standing at the gate waiting and watching for him.

You remember it was Jesus who told that story, and He told it to us so that we would understand that when we forget God and run away from Him we forget our own true name and run away from our best Friend.