A Dramatic Sermon Illustration

A few years ago on the first Sunday of Lent, the
pastor of a small Baptist church in southern Oklahoma surprised his parishioners by showing up dressed as a street person.

Ten minutes prior to the start of morning services he walked slowly from the alley by the church moving toward the front entrance of the sanctuary. He meandered around near a group of men who were conversing.

The Spring weather was conducive to lingering awhile in the sun before moving into the building. No one spoke to him.

The pastor's disguise included a three day growth of beard. He was wearing attire purchased from a second hand clothing store. He purposefully had selected items that were one size too large. Then he doctored them up at home that morning by rubbing the pants and jacket on some moist dirt by his home. An old soiled narrow brimmed hat was pulled down far on his forehead.

Someone would have had to look him right in the eye to get a clue that it was their pastor. No one did, however. He said later from the pulpit, that the closest he got to actual eye contact, were a few derisive glances. He recalled what Mother Teresa had said, "The greater sin is not to hate someone, it is to be indifferent toward them."

As the opening music began the stragglers went inside. A few moments later the pastor shuffled in too, taking a seat on the back row.

A note had been placed on the music stand which informed the choir director to began the opening hymn, the pastor would be a few moments late. She did so. At the conclusion of that song she hesitated a few moments then suggested that the small congregation sing another hymn that was not on the bulletin.

As the final verse of that hymn was being sung, the disheveled man purposefully loudly dropped his hymnal on the wooden pew and noisily rose from his pew. Several heads in the back rows turned, the murmurings caused more heads near the front to turn as well. He had replaced his hat. He walked slowly toward the front, shoulders bent forward, his eyes looking at a point a foot in front of each step.

As he approached the steps to the pulpit, the music trailed off and the organist hit a bad cord, then stopped playing. It was silent as the pastor, head still turned down, began to leaf through the pulpit Bible. People glanced nervously at seat mates, some turned around to see what the deacons might do. Then as everyone remained frozen in place, the pastor, in a loud voice, began to read Isaiah 58 from the large Bible:

"Is this the kind of fast I have chosen, only a day for a man to humble himself?" Then he straightened his posture, removed the hat, released a tentative smile as he brushed his hair back. A gasp in unison filled the sanctuary. Then he continued reading.

"Is it only for bowing one's head like a reed and for lying on sackcloth and ashes? Is that what you call a fast, a day acceptable to the LORD? Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?

"Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter-- when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood? Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.

"Then you will call, and the LORD will answer; you will cry for help, and he will say: Here am I. If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with the pointing finger and malicious talk, and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday.

"The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun scorched land and will strengthen your frame . . . (NIV) Isa 58:5-11.

He continued, "Dear friends during the loneliness I experienced during these past twenty minutes, I only got a taste of how it must feel to be friendless, poor, and without hope for the future. As I stood outside not a person looked me in the eye. Most people just ignored me. I have been ignored before, we all have in crowds. But this morning I felt invisible.

" Please forgive me for shocking you like this. But a few weeks ago, as I read Isaiah 58, I realized that none of us must really believe the words of God when he talks about loving the poor. If we did, would we not want our lights to break forth like the dawn, so our healing would quickly appear? Would we not obey the letter of God's commands about loving the poor so our righteousness would go before us, and the glory of the LORD would be our rear guard.?

" Would we not quickly meet together and pray earnestly to find creative ways to break the yoke of injustice knowing that when we call, the LORD would answer? "

His sermon that morning was shorter than usual. As dramatic as it was, he probably could just have read Isaiah 58 and sat down. Even then no one would ever forget that message. At the conclusion many people were in small groups around the sanctuary talking, several stopped longer than normal to respond to the pastor.

There was none of the usual small talk, no generic, "enjoyed your sermon, pastor" comments.

A few weeks later, he confided to one of the deacons, "I shall always cherish that morning. God gave me the confidence to pull it off. I knew that the message was from Him more than any I had every preached. So, it was especially good to see such rapt attention by the congregation."

Pastors, tell us of illustrations you have used to open people's hearts toward the needs of the poor. This site focuses on Christians learning how to know the will of God particularly as they put them selves in the front lines of service to others.

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