Category Archives: Stories to Inspire Evangelism

Thank You

Miss Blanche Groves was for many years a faithful missionary in China. One day in Soochow she stood on the curb of the street and watched three men being led to execution by the Japanese. One of them recognized her, broke away from his captors and ran up to her. He cried out, “Thank you for telling me about Jesus. I am not afraid to die now. I will die at sunset, but I will spend the night with Jesus.” Then he went all the way up and down the line pleading with people to go to church and to live for Christ.*

Reflect

The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life. He who is wise wins souls (Proverbs 11:30).

Remember

Most of the greatest accomplishments of this life will never be seen until the next.


*W. Herschel Ford, Sermons You Can Preach on Matthew, (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Publishing House, 1963), p. 47


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Do You Care?

A man who was a member of a church asked his pastor to visit his son who was sick and about to die. He met his pastor at the door and said, “Preacher, I am afraid that my son is dying. I wish you would talk to him about his salvation.”

The preacher went into the bedroom and started talking to the boy but found him totally indifferent. Finally the preacher said, “Oh, son, your father is so interested in your being saved.”

The boy looked up and said, “What did you say?”

The preacher repeated, “Son, your father is deeply interested in your salvation.”

The boy said, “That is strange. I am twenty-one years old. I have lived at home all my life. My father is a member of the church, but he never said one word to me about God and salvation.”*

What a shame it is that so many have waited so long to say so few words, those few words which can change a heart, cleanse a life, and set one on the road to heaven. We say we care, but do we?

Reflect

No one cares for my soul (Psalm 142:4).

Remember

“The church has halted somewhere between Calvary and Pentecost.”**


*W. Herschel Ford, Sermons You Can Preach on John, (Grand Rapids: Zondervan Publishing House, 1958) p. 174.

**Leonard Ravenhill, Why Revival Tarries, (Minneapolis: Bethany House Publishers, 1990), p. 68.


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Knock Again

A fellow was giving out tracts. He would knock on a door; and when the people came to the door, he would smile, hand them a tract and say, “I would be very grateful if you would read this,” then knock on the next door and the next and the next.

He came to one house; when he knocked, nobody came to the door. He knocked again; nobody came. He knocked a third time; nobody home. So he put the tract in the screen door and walked away.

But something compelled him. It seemed that the Spirit of God said Don’t go off this porch! Go back up there and knock again. He felt silly, but he walked back and knocked again. Still no answer. As he started to walk away this time, the feeling came stronger. So he went back and knocked again.

This time the door suddenly opened, and there was a man standing there saying, “WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”

He was shaking when he handed the man the tract. “Sir, would you please read this?”

The man snatched it out of his hand and slammed the door.

He walked off the porch unnerved. It took him two or three houses before he got his composure back. Then he finished that block and another block and went home.

His name, address and phone number were on the bottom of each tract.

Late that evening the phone rang. “Sir, are you the man who was giving out the little papers over in a certain area today?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Is it possible for you to come by and talk with me?”

“Sure. Give me the address.”

He copied down the address and quickly made his way over there. It was the same house where he had knocked several times!

The fellow said, “Come in. I want to show you something.” He took him up in the attic. The man said, “ I was getting nervous for sure then!” There in the attic, on the rafters, hung a rope with a noose; and a basket was sitting right under the noose. He didn’t know what to think about it.

The fellow said, “This afternoon I heard your first knock. I was standing on that basket with that rope around my neck, planning to end it all. When I heard you knock a second time, I thought, I’ll wait just a moment; and when the man goes away, I’ll jump. You knocked a third time. Then it got quiet. I was ready to jump when I heard you knock again! I figured I had better go see who it was. After you gave me that tract, I sat down and read it in its entirety. I must have read it fifty times this afternoon before calling you. I need what that is talking about.”*

Reflect

The Lord is not slow concerning his promise, as some count slowness; but is longsuffering towards us, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance (2 Peter 3:9).

Remember

During the first decade of this century, Charles Borden left one of America’s greatest family fortunes to be a missionary in China. He only got as far as Egypt where, still in his twenties, he died of typhoid fever. Before his death he said, “No reserves, no retreats, no regrets!”**


*Tom Wallace, “Jesus, the Soul Winner’s Example,” [1982] Hudson, Curtis, ed. Great Preaching on Soul Winning, (Murfreesboro, TN: Sword of the Lord Publishers, 1989), p. 204-5.

**Billy Graham, Approaching Hoofbeats: The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, (Waco, Texas: Word Books), 1983, p. 94-95.


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A Call From Below

Taken from a message preached by Jack Hyles:

My father was an alcoholic. He is buried tonight in a drunkard’s grave in Italy, Texas. My father heard me preach two sermons, one on Sunday morning and one on Sunday night, New Year’s Day, 1949.

New Year’s Eve I got burdened for my dad. So I got in my car in Marshall, Texas, and drove 150 miles to Dallas to the Hunt Saloon where my dad was a bartender and a drunk…My dad was sitting at the bar drinking beer. He was a big man, weighing 235 pound, and the strongest man I ever knew.

I said, “Dad, this is Saturday night, New Year’s Eve, 1949. I am going to take you back today to Marshall, Texas, to hear me preach tomorrow.”

My dad cursed me. “I’m not going to go and hear any preacher preach.”

“Dad, you weigh 235 pounds, and I weigh a little over half that. But we are going to have a brawl here in this bar, or you are going to go with me to Marshall, Texas.”

He realized that I meant business. I gave him enough coffee to sober him up a bit; then we got in the car and I took him to Marshall, Texas. On New Year’s Eve, 1949, my father went on our watch night service with us. We got on buses and rode around town and sang songs and had a wonderful time. We came back to church and prayed the old year out and the new year in.

Sunday was on New Year’s Day that year. I stood to preach, and my dad sat on the fourth row from the front. The invitation time came, and he clawed the pew in conviction. I pleaded for him to come, but he would not.

That afternoon we went for a walk out in the pasture. I put my arms around his shoulder and said, “Dad, I want to see you be a Christian more than I want anything in the world. Dad, will you not be saved?”

My dad opened the joybells of Heaven when he said, “Son, I am going to get saved. I am going to go back to Dallas and sell out. I am going to move to Marshall. I am going to buy me a little fruit stand or a small grocery store and set up a little business here. I am going to get saved in the spring and let you baptize me.”

I said, “Dad, that is wonderful! That is good enough for me.”

I wish I could relive that afternoon. I wish I had a chance to try again. I thought he had plenty of time. He was only 62. I clapped my hands. The last word my dad said when he got out of the car on Washington Street in Dallas, Texas, was, “Son, I am going to let you baptize me in the spring.”

Every time I baptized that winter, I heard him say, “Son, I am going to let you baptize me in the spring.”

On May 3, 1950, about ten o’clock in the morning, my telephone rang. The operator said, “Reverend Jack Hyles?”

“This is Brother Hyles.”

“Go ahead, sir.”

A man’s voice said, “My name is Smith. Reverend Hyles, I worked with your dad. We hung dry wall together. He was up on a sawhorse this morning hanging dry wall on the ceiling, and he just a few minutes ago dropped dead with a heart attack.”

I didn’t say anything. I just put the phone down.

“Son, I am going to let you baptize me in the spring.”

I got in my car and drove back to Dallas, Texas, to the O’Neil Funeral Home.

My dad was buried in Italy, Texas.

Several months passed. One Sunday night past midnight there came a knock on the door of my study. I went to the door, and my only sister was at the door weeping. “Earlyne, is it Mother?”

“No, Jack. Would you tell me how to be saved?”

“Sure I will.” And I told my only sister how to be saved, and she was saved in my study about one o’clock in the morning.

After she got saved I said, “Earlyne, why tonight? You could have been saved anytime through these years. Why did you choose tonight, and why did you come so late at night to get saved?”

She said, “Jack, you know that I was daddy’s pet.”

“That is right.”

“Daddy did not care much for you, Jack, but he loved me very much.”

“That is right, Sister.”

“Jack, when dad died, I thought I would die too. I couldn’t sleep at night. I lost weight. I cried almost every waking hour. I had a dream shortly after he died. I dreamed that I was taken into a big building, about like this, by a heavenly creature up to the second floor of that building. I was taken to a corner. There I saw a casket. I looked in. The corpse had a look of peace on its face. There was a casket next to that. In that casket was a corpse. That corpse had a look of peace on its face. And the next and the next and the next. The entire wall was lined with caskets, and in each was a corpse. And on each face a look of peace. The same thing across that wall and across this wall.”

She said, “Jack, we got to the last casket, and the heavenly creature said, “You can’t look in that one.”

“I said, ‘I must. I have to look at all of them.’ The creature said, ‘No, you can’t look in that one.’”

She said, “Jack, I saw two hands raise themselves above the casket. They were daddy’s hands. Jack, daddy was saying, ‘Sister! Sister! Sister!’

“I broke away from the creature and went over and looked in daddy’s face. Jack, his face was writhing in pain, and daddy was saying. ‘Sister! Sister! I—I—I—ju—j—bu—bu—I—I—Sister, Sister!’ I said, ‘Daddy, what is it? Tell me!” He said, ‘Sister, Sister!, I—I—I—eh—B—je—je—be—, Sister, Sister!”

She said, “Jack, the creature took me then, but I knew what daddy was saying. When I heard you preach tonight on the rich man in Hell who said to go tell my five brothers not to come here, I knew that daddy was telling me not to come to Hell where he was.”

And now for these twenty-four and a half years, the thing that has motivated my life and my ministry has been the fact that somewhere in the torments of the unprepared, my daddy says, “Jack, tell them all not to come here. Tell them all! Tell them all! Tell them all!”* 

Reflect

“Now there was a certain rich man, and he was clothed in purple and fine linen, living in luxury every day. A certain beggar, named Lazarus, was laid at his gate, full of sores, and desiring to be fed with the crumbs that fell from the rich man’s table. Yes, even the dogs came and licked his sores. It happened that the beggar died, and that he was carried away by the angels to Abraham’s bosom. The rich man also died, and was buried. In Hades, he lifted up his eyes, being in torment, and saw Abraham far off, and Lazarus at his bosom. He cried and said, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my tongue! For I am in anguish in this flame.’ “But Abraham said, ‘Son, remember that you, in your lifetime, received your good things, and Lazarus, in like manner, bad things. But now here he is comforted and you are in anguish. Besides all this, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed, that those who want to pass from here to you are not able, and that none may cross over from there to us.’ “He said, ‘I ask you therefore, father, that you would send him to my father’s house; for I have five brothers, that he may testify to them, lest they also come into this place of torment.’ “But Abraham said to him, ‘They have Moses and the prophets. Let them listen to them.’ “He said, ‘No, father Abraham, but if one goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ “He said to him, ‘If they don’t listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded if one rises from the dead'” (Luke 16:19-31).

Remember

A generation ago, Jim Elliot went from Wheaton College to become a missionary to the Aucas in Ecuador. Before he was killed, he wrote, “He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose.”**


*Hyles, Jack, “Four Calls for Soul Winning,” [1974], Hudson, Curtis, ed. . Great Preaching on Soul Winning, (Murfreesboro, TN: Sword of the Lord Publishers, 1989), p. 54-57.

**Billy Graham, Approaching Hoofbeats: The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, (Waco, Texas: Word Books, 1983), pp. 94-95.


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If I Believed What You Say…

Charlie Peace was a criminal. Laws of God or man curbed him not. Finally the law caught up with him and he was condemned to death. On the fatal morning in Armley Jail, Leeds, England, he was taken on the death-walk. Before him went the prison chaplain, routinely and sleepily reading some Bible verses. The criminal touched the preacher and asked what he was reading. “The Consolations of Religion,” was the reply. Charlie Peace was shocked at the way he professionally read about hell. Could a man be so unmoved under the very shadow of the scaffold as to lead a fellow-human there and yet, dry-eyed, read of a pit that has no bottom into which this fellow must fall? Could this preacher believe the words that there is an eternal fire that never consumes its victims, and yet slide over the phrase without a tremor? Is a man human at all who can say with no tears, “You will be eternally dying and yet never know the relief that death brings”? All this was too much for Charlie Peace. So he preached. Listen to his on-the-eve-of-hell sermon.

“Sir,” addressing the preacher, “if I believed what you and the church of God say that you believe, even if England were covered with broken glass from coast to coast, I would walk over it, if need be, on hands and knees and think it worth while living, just to save one soul from an eternal hell like that!”*

Reflect

I saw a great white throne, and him who sat on it, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away. There was found no place for them. I saw the dead, the great and the small, standing before the throne. Books were opened. Another book was opened, which is the book of life. The dead were judged out of the things which were written in the books, according to their works. The sea gave up the dead who were in it. Death and Hades gave up the dead who were in them. They were judged, each one according to his works. Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This is the second death, the lake of fire. If anyone was not found written in the book of life, he was cast into the lake of fire (Revelation 20:11-15).

Remember

“I still, from my armchair, preach in great revivals. I still vision hundreds walking the aisles to accept Christ. I still feel hot tears for the lost . . . . I want no Christmas without a burden for lost souls, a message for sinners, a heart to bring in the lost. May food be tasteless, music a discord, Christmas a farce if I forget the dying millions; if this fire in my bones does not still flame. Not till I die or not till Jesus comes will I ever be eased from this burden, these tears, this toil to save souls.” -John R. Rice, age 85

(Part of a 1980 Christmas letter dictated few days before his death)**


*Leonard Ravenhill. Why Revival Tarries, (Minneapolis: Bethany House Publishers, 1959), p. 32.

**Curtis Hutson, ed., Great Preaching on Soul Winning, (Murfreesboro, TN: Sword of the Lord Publishers), preface.


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Just One More

From a sermon by R. A. Torrey:

I never think of our responsibility for being soul winners without thinking of an incident that occurred many years ago in Evanston, Illinois. There Northwestern University is located. Years ago, before it had attained to the dignity of a university, two strong, husky farmer boys came to the college to study—Ed and Will Spencer. Ed was a famous swimmer. Early one morning word came to the college that north of Evanston, between Evanston and Winnetka, there was a wreck a little way off the shore of Lake Michigan. Ed, with the other students and people of the town, hurried northward along the shore toward the wreck. As he ran along a low bluff, he saw a man clinging to the wreckage trying to make the shore. He threw off his superfluous garments, sprang into the lake and swam out, caught hold of the man and the wreckage and made toward shore. He was struck in the head by wreckage, and the blood from the wound filled his eyes so he could not see, but he succeeded in bringing the man to shore.

Going on a little further, he saw another man clinging to wreckage trying to make the shore. This time he took the precaution to tie a rope around his waist and throw the end to the fellow-students on the shore, and sprang into the lake and swam out, grasped the drowning man, gave the signal, and was pulled ashore. Again and again he sprang into the lake and swam out to rescue some who were drowning, until he had succeeded in bringing a fifth, a sixth, a seventh, an eighth, a ninth and a tenth safe to shore.

By now he was completely exhausted. His companions had made a fire of logs upon the shore, for the morning was cold and raw. He walked over to the fire, so weak that he could hardly stand and stood trying to get a little warmth into his shivering body.

After standing there a few moments he turned, looked out over the lake again and saw another man trying to make the shore. He cried to his companions, “Boys, I am going in again.” “No, no, Ed,” they cried, “Your strength is all gone. You cannot save him. You will only be throwing your own life away. It will be suicide.” “I will try, anyway,” he cried.

Again he sprang into the lake and swam out and grasped a drowning man and was pulled to shore. And again and again and again and again, until he had brought an eleventh, a twelfth, a thirteenth, a fourteenth and a fifteenth safe to shore.

Then his strength seemed entirely gone. He tottered across the beach to the fire and stood beside it so pale and haggard and emaciated that it seemed as if the hand of death was already upon him. After standing by the fire a few moments he turned and looked out over the lake. In the distance he saw a spar drifting toward a point. To drift around meant certain death. Looking again and seeing a man’s head above the spar, he cried, “There is a man trying to save his life!” He looked again and saw a woman’s head beside the man’s. “Boys,” he cried, “there is a man trying to save his wife. I’ll help him.” “No, no!” they cried; “your strength is all gone. It will be suicide. You cannot help him.” “I’ll try,” he cried.

He sprang again into Lake Michigan and swam out to the spar. Summoning all his fast-dying strength, he put his hands upon it and brought it around the right side of the point to safety.

Then they pulled him in through the breakers; tender hands lifted him from the shore, carried him to his room in the college, and laid him upon his bed apparently unconscious. A fire was built in the grate, and his brother sat in front of the grate to watch developments.

He had been sitting there awhile, looking into the fire and thinking of his brother’s bravery, when suddenly he heard a footfall behind him and felt a touch upon his shoulder. Looking up, he saw his brother looking down wistfully into his eyes. “Will,” he said, “did I do my best?”

“Why, Ed,” Will replied, “you saved seventeen.”

He said, “I know it; I know it; but I was afraid I did not do my very best. Will, do you think that I did my very best?”

His brother took him back to bed. During the night he tossed in a semi-delirium. His thought was not about the seventeen whom he had saved, but on the many who went down that day to an early grave. For in spite of his bravery and that of others, many perished that day.

His brother Will, as he sat by the bed, held his hand and tried to calm him. He said, “Ed, you saved seventeen.”

“I know it; I know it,” he cried, “but, oh, if I could only have saved just one more!”

We all stand beside a stormy sea today—the sea of life. There are wrecks everywhere. Young men, young women, older men, older women are going down, not to a watery grave but to a hopeless eternity. They are going down all over America. They are going down all over England. They are going down in China and Japan and India. Oh, let us jump in again and again and again and rescue the perishing! And when at last every ounce of strength is gone and we sink utterly exhausted on the shore, let us cry in the earnestness of our desire to save the perishing, “Oh, if I could only have saved just one more!”*

Reflect

Jesus came to them and spoke to them, saying, “All authority has been given to me in heaven and on earth. Go, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all things which I commanded you. Behold, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Amen (Matthew 28:18-20).

Respond

If you were to die today, what would you take to heaven with you? Money can’t go; social status can’t go; houses and cars can’t go, but the people you’ve led to Christ can. When was the last time you personally, one-on-one, led someone to saving faith in Jesus Christ. Opportunities surround us if only we open our eyes and say, “I am willing.”

Remember

Charles T. Studd was a famous sportsman in England, captain of the Cambridge XI cricket team. A century ago he gave away his vast wealth to needy causes and led the “Cambridge Seven” to China. His slogan was, “If Jesus Christ be God and died for me, then no sacrifice can be too great for me to make for Him.”**


*R.A. Torrey, “Why Every Christian Should Make Soul Winning His Life’s Business,” Hudson, Curtis, ed. Great Preaching on Soul Winning, (Murfreesboro, TN: Sword of the Lord Publishers, 1989), p. 70.

**Billy Graham, Approaching Hoofbeats: The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, (Waco, Texas: Word Books, 1983), p. 94-95.


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