Illustration results for Hypocrite
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Sin and Hypocrites
Some mistakenly think that they are free to sin, just so long as they aren't hypocrites about it, that the worst form of sin is hypocrisy. Often one hears it said, "I know I'm not perfect, but at least I'm not hypocritical about it."
A few years ago in Texas there were two men who robbed a bank. One wore a ski mask and the other did not. They both were captured and ultimately appeared before the judge for sentencing. The one without the mask could have stated, "Look, I know that robbing the bank was the wrong thing to do, but at least I was not hypocritical about it. I didn't try to cover up who I was. I was open and honest. That should be worth something as far as leniency is concerned." The judge sentenced both men to the same time in prison.
(Galaxie Software. (2002; 2002). 10,000 Sermon Illustrations. Biblical Studies Press. From a sermon by Matthew Kratz, Pursuing God in Giving, 1/31/2010)
A RELIGION WORTH HAVING
Dr. F. E. Marsh used to tell that on one occasion he was preaching on the importance of confession of sin and, wherever possible, of restitution for wrong done to others. Afterward a young man came up to him and said: "Pastor, you have put me in a sad fix. I have wronged another and am ashamed to confess it or try to put it right. I am a boatbuilder, and the man I work for is an unbeliever. I have talked to him often about his need of Christ and have urged him to come and hear you preach, but he scoffs and ridicules it all.
"In my work, copper nails are used because they do not rust in the water, but they are quite expensive, so I had been carrying home quantities of them to use on a boat I am building in my back yard." The pastor's sermon had brought him face to face the fact that he was just a common thief. "But," he said, "I cannot go to my boss and tell him what I have done, or offer to pay for those I have used. If I do he will think I am just a hypocrite, and yet those copper nails are digging into my conscience, and I know I shall never have peace until I put this matter right."
One night he came again to Dr. Marsh and exclaimed,"Pastor, I've settled for the copper nails, and my conscience is relieved at last."
"What happened when you confessed?" asked the pastor.
"Oh, he looked queerly at me, and then said, 'George, I always did think you were just a hypocrite, but now I begin to feel there's something in this Christianity after all. Any religion that makes a dishonest workman confess that he has been stealing copper nails, and offer to settle for them, must be worth having."
--Emergency Post Knight's Master Book of New Illustrations.
One of my favorite columns by Erma Bombeck tells of God in the act of creating mothers. She says that on the day God created mothers He had already worked long overtime. And an angel said to Him, "Lord, you sure are spending a lot of time on this one."
The Lord turned & said, "Have you read the specs on this model? She is supposed to be completely washable, but not plastic. She is to have 180 moving parts, all of them replaceable. She is to have a kiss that will heal everything from a broken leg to a broken heart. She is to have a lap that will disappear whenever she stands up. She is to be able to function on black coffee & leftovers. And she is supposed to have six pairs of hands."
"Six pairs of hands," said the angel, "thatís impossible." "Itís not the six pairs of hands that bother me." said the Lord, "Itís the three pairs of eyes. She is supposed to have one pair that sees through closed doors so that whenever she says, `What are you kids doing in there?í she already knows what theyíre doing in there."
"She has another pair in the back of her head to see all the things she is not supposed to see but must see. And then she has one pair right in front that can look at a child that just goofed & communicate love & understanding without saying a word."
"Thatís too much." said the angel, "You canít put that much in one model. Why donít you rest for a while & resume your creating tomorrow?"
"No, I canít," said the Lord. "Iím close to creating someone very much like myself. Iíve already come up with a model who can heal herself when she is sick - who can feed a family of six with one pound of hamburger - & who can persuade a nine year old to take a shower."
Then the angel looked at the model of motherhood a little more closely & said, "Sheís too soft." "Oh, but she is tough," said the Lord. "Youíd be surprised at how much this mother can do."
"Can she think?" asked the angel. "Not only can she think," said the Lord, "but she can reason & compromise & persuade."
Then the angel reached over & touched her cheek. "This one has a leak," he said. "I told you that you couldnít put that much in one model." "Thatís not a leak," said the Lord. "Thatís a tear."
"Whatís a tear for?" asked the angel. "Well itís for joy, for sadness, for sorrow, for disappointment, for pride." "Youíre a genius," said the angel. And the Lord said, "Oh, but I didnít put it there."
THE CHRISTMAS STORM: A Modern Parable by Paul Harvey
"This is about a modern man, one of us, he was not a scrooge, he was a kind, decent, mostly good man, generous to his family, upright in his dealings with others. But he did not believe in all that incarnation stuff that the Churches proclaim at Christmas time. It just didnít make sense to him and he was too honest to pretend otherwise. He just could not swallow the Jesus story about God coming to earth as man. Iím truly sorry to distress you, he told his wife, but Iím not going with you to church this Christmas Eve. He said heíd feel like a hypocrite. That he would much rather stay home, but that he would wait up for them. He stayed, they went. Shortly after the family drove away in the car, snow began to fall. He went to the window to watch the flurries getting heavier and heavier, then went back to his fireside chair and began to read his newspaper. Minutes later he was startled by a thudding sound. Then another and another. At first he thought someone must be throwing snowballs against his living room window. Well, when he went to the front door, he found a flock of birds huddled miserably in the snow. They had been caught in the storm and in a desperate search for shelter they had tried to fly through his large landscape window. Well, he couldnít let the poor creatures lie there and freeze. He remembered the barn where his children stabled their pony. That would provide a warm shelter -- if he could direct the birds to it. He quickly put on his coat and galoshes, trampled through the deepening snow to the barn, opened the door wide, and turned on a light. But the birds did not come in. He figured food would entice them in and he hurried back to the house, fetched bread crumbs, sprinkled them on the snow making a trail to the yellow lighted wide open doorway of the stable, but to his dismay the birds ignored the bread crumbs, and continued to flap around helplessly in the snow. He tried catching them, he tried shooing them into the barn by walking around them waving his arms -- instead they scattered in every direction except into the warm lighted barn. Then he realized they were afraid of him. To them, he reasoned, I am a strange and terrifying creature, if only I could think of some way to let them know they can trust me. That Iím not trying to hurt them, bu...
One of my favorite comedies is "Groundhog Day", a make-believe story about
a weather man, Phil Conners who has a bad attitude, even worse manners, and a razor tongue. He was was reporting on Groundhog Day from a small town he cared little about. The fuss the folks were paying to a groudhog he cared less
about, but he did care for the new and attractive producer.
After the shoot, they couldn°¶t get out of town because of the bad weather.
To his horror, when he woke up the next day, he discovered that he had woken up to yesterday. He met the same people, did the same things, and
said the same things and ended up at the end of a promising day on a sour
note, where he had to start all over again the next day!
He tried many ways to beat the system, take advantage of what he knew the
previous day, but over and over he woke up to a new day after a terrible
mistake. Since he was going nowhere, he tried to woo the producer, and she
was smitten with him because he knew her likes and dislikes day by day, and
just as she was about to kiss him at the end of the day, she discovered he
was just a hypocrite mouthing words to win her, and she slapped him. She
slapped him for many recurring days, until he gave up trying to be who he was
not, learn new things like playing the piano, changed his attitude and just
enjoy the town and people and even the weather that left him there.
When that happened, the producer fell in love with the new Phil Conners, the
weather cleared up, and the next day was a new day.
You share Christ by imitating Christ. A story is told Ė by Fredrick Beuchner I believe Ė called ďThe Happy Hypocrite." It is a story about a man who was born with an awful facial deformity. He grew up alone and lonely. When reaching adulthood, he decided to move from his town to begin a new life. On his way he discovered a beautiful mask that fit his making him look handsome. At first the mask was uncomfortable and he was afraid that people would find out who he really was, but he continued to wear the mask everyday.
In his new hometown, he made many friends and fell in love. But one day a wicked woman from his old home came to his town and discovered this manís true identity. In front of his friends and fiancť, she forced him to remove his mask. When he removed the mask, it revealed a handsome face. His face had conformed to the mask.
Becoming like Christ is analogous to this. Go ahead and put on Christ. At first it may feel unnatural or uncomfortable, and maybe you may think, ďwho am I trying to fool?Ē But everyday just keep putting on Christ and everyday you will grow to look more like him.
Zig Ziglar said that he invited a friend to go to church with him. The man answered, “Well, I’d like to go. But the church is so full of hypocrites.” Ziglar replied, “That’s okay. There’s always room for one more.”
Daniel L. Crocker, 39, turned himself in. As a Christian, he said, it was the right thing to do. Mr. Crocker lived with his wife of 11 years, Nicolette, 36, and their two children in a quiet community near Dulles Airport in Virginia. He was a warehouse manager and his wife was a stay-at-home mom, home schooling Isaac, 9, and Analiese, 8. They had come to the area from California seven years earlier. They were active in Fairfax Assembly of God church. But Mr. Crocker was living with a terrible secret. When he was 19 and on drugs in Kansas City, Kansas he sexually assaulted and killed 19 year-old Tracy Fresquez. He told his wife before they were married, blaming it on the drug influence. Over the years, they struggled with how to reconcile the slaying with their faith. He had asked Godís forgiveness, but the burden seemed to get heavier as time passed by. The showdown came when Mr. Crocker began ministering to an inmate as part of his churchís prison outreach. ďHow can you go and visit this man and tell him all about God, and you know in your heart that you should be there too?Ē Mrs. Crocker asked him after one of the visits. For the next several weeks Mr. Crocker deliberated over how he should turn himself in. Then, with the help of a Prison Fellowship official, Kansas authorities were contacted and Crocker surrendered. He quit his job and explained to his children what had happened. The family prayed together and read from the Bible. The children cried and begged their daddy, ďDonít do...
Two Ladies were sharing lunch together when one said to the other: "I don’t know many Christians, but somehow I can’t help regarding them as hypocrites."
Said the other, "But your sister-in-law, she lives in the same house with you; surely you must acknowledge that she is a devoted Christian."
"That’s just it," was the laughing reply. "She has a very lovely disposition, and she devotes her life to missions and Sunday schools, but she has never said a word to me about becoming a Christian. It’s only make-believe with her about souls being in danger. You need not tell me! I know that she is fond of me, but if she believed all that, don’t you think she would not have said something?"
Wade Hughes, Sr
Donít you go to Walmart with Hypocrites? Why canít go
to church with them?