An Old Love Story

The Rev. John H. Elliott has long been known as a successful worker in the interests of men. For years he was a secretary of several of the most prominent Young Men’s Christian Associations in the country. Then he entered upon special evangelistic work; from this field he was called to the assistant pastorate of the Central Presbyterian Church, Rochester, N. Y., and then to the pastorate of the Thirtyfourth Street Reformed Church, New York REV. JOHN H. ELLIOTT, city. After a most successful ministry there, he has entered once more upon his evangelistic labors for which he is so well qualified.

The following sermon is characteristic of Dr. Elliott, and is a clear proof of the fact that the plaui telling of the story of the Gospel of Christ always wins. This sermon has been used of God to lead thousands to Christ.

John 3:16. “For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’’

This is the old love story of the Gospel. Luther called this text “The Little Bible,” meaning by that, I suppose, that it contained in brief the essence of all Bible truth, and indeed this is true. God loved and gave, we believe and receive. Many other things must enter into this statement, but in its final analysis this covers the entire body of revealed truth. I presume this is the most familiar text of Scripture to an average Christian audience, and yet I do not know that I have ever heard a sermon on the text, save in one instance. Perhaps this is due to the very largeness of the text, for it seems impossible to exhaust it.

It is said that the first time Mr. Moody visited the old land he met an English evangelist in whon.i he became greatly interested. He said to him: “If you should ever visit America, come to Chicago, and I shall be glad to see you.” Several years afterwards, when possibly the invitation had almost slipped out of his mind, the evangelist came to Chicago, arriving on a Saturday just as Mr. Moody was preparing to go away to speak somewhere else on the Lord’s day. Mr. Moody said to his wife: “Please take the evangelist over to the North Side tomorrow morning and ask the one who is to speak to hold over and give my English friend an opportunity to preach, and if in the judgment of the brethren it seems best, let him speak again in the evening.” When the time came for the evangelist to speak, he stood up before the audience and announced as his text,- John 3:16. His diminutive figure and his quaint English dialect provoked a titter through the audience, but as he began to unfold to them something of the Old Love Story of the Gospel, the congregation speedily forgot the messenger in the message. So great was the interest that without a moment’s hesitation it was arranged that he should speak again in the evening, and at the hour announced the audience room was well filled. When the preacher arose to announce his text, he said: “I have been much in prayer during the day for a text for this evening service, and I have been unable to settle on anything but the text of the morning, so, with your permission, I will begin just where I left off with John 3: 16.” So deep and profound was the impression made by the speaker as he proceeded to unfold another aspect of the truth of God’s love for a lost world, that at the close it was arranged that he should speak again on Monday evening; and it was during the progress of Monday evening’s service that Mr. Moody, having returned to the city, came in and took his place in the audience, just about in time to hear the evangelist announce his text. With evident embarrassment he said: “Dear friends, I feel that perhaps I owe you an apology, but I have not been able to get away from the text of yesterday, so with your permission we will just go on with John 3: 16.” It is believed that this message had much to do with opening Mr. Moody’s eyes to the love side of the Gospel, and we know with what power he went up and down the world proclaiming the same message.

At the close of the sermon, Mr. Moody sprang to his feet and in his impulsive big-hearted fashion said: “Friends, there will be preaching service in this place every night this week, and the same man will speak.” Tuesday night came, and with evident modesty and sincere embarrassment, the evangelist announced that he had not been able to get through with the text, and that he would therefore continue with John 3:16 on Tuesday evening and from John 3:16 on Wednesday evening, and on Thursday evening and Friday evening, and so on until he had preached seven sermons consecutively from the same text.

One can well understand how the true-hearted preacher of the Gospel might go on all his days preaching from this text and never exhaust it. I have no hope of doing other than calling attention to some of the mountain peaks of truth, that stand out distinctly above all others in the text. On one memorable visit to the Pacific coast, I was privileged successively to look upon the four great mountain peaks of Mt. Shasta, Mt. Hood, Mt. Adams and Mt. Rainier. And so I lift your eyes to the four great mountain peaks of truth in the text in the hope that the impression may be as lasting as the granite hills.

First then, I invite you to look upon the Love of God; second, the gift of God; third, the invitation of God; and fourth, the promise of God.

FIRST. The Love of God. “For God so loved the zvorld,” “Love divine all love excelling, Joy of Heaven to Earth come down.” There is infinite pathos in these four short words “For God so loved.” Doctor Torrey has called attention to the statement “God is Love,” as containing the greatest sentence that was ever written. This is the crowning revelation of Scripture. One does not find this revelation in the book of nature; indeed, the laws of nature seem oftentimes to contradict it. If you break one of the laws of nature you must pay the penalty with compound interest added. Nature knows no such thing as pity, or love, or forgiveness for the one who sins against her; but Scripture reveals a new law, the law of Love, and because God so loved the world, He stands ready to forgive the sinner, for God loves the sinner, while He hates the sin. I believe this is the message that the old sin-cursed, habit-bound world needs to-day as much as it ever did.

I have read somewhere of a mother who loved her boy as true mothers have since the world began; mischievous and wayward, he went into sin, deeper and deeper, until even his so-called friends had forsaken him; but the mother could always find some palliation for his wrong doing or some excuse for his sin, because while she hated the sin with an intense hatred, she loved the sinner. In the end this young fellow went so far as to commit a crime, and then to expiate his crime by the death upon the gallows. His mother was the last one to turn away from him, the last one to leave him. Others had forsaken him in disgust long ago. She, — never. And it is said that when at last the time came for her to lay her own poor, tired, broken body down, her dying request Vv’as that she might be buried in the same grave with her boy. Think of it, willing to go down into a grave of infamy and shame for the love she bore her boy, and all this because she loved the sinner, while she hated the sin. Even so God loves the sinner, while He hates the sin.

SECOND: The Gift of God. “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son.” God loved the world and gave his son. Jesus Christ, the Son of God, loved the world and gave Himself for it. Jesus seems everywhere and always to have recognized Himself as the gift of God. In His interview with the sinful woman at the well, you will remember that He said to her: “If thou knewest the gift of God, and who it is that saith to thee, give me to drink; thou wouldst have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water.” And so over and over again, this truth is emphasized in Scripture. One does not need to prove to the world that “the wages of sin is death,” but the world does need to know that “the gift of God is eternal life, through Jesus Christ, our Lord.” For despite the teaching of the Master to the contrary, men still cling to the hope of doing something to merit His favor instead of accepting the gift, as offered in pure grace. Some time since, in conversation with a man, when I inquired if he was a Christian, he said to me at once: “Well, sir, / am doing the best I can.” Then it occurred to me that this man had never analyzed that statement, and that like a great many others who are saying “/ am doing the best I can” it had been repeated so often that he had come to believe in it, although there might be no basis for it in fact, and therefore seeking to help him, I pressed the inquiry a little, and asked him what he was doing. His reply again was: “I am doing the best I can.” “But,” I asked, “What are you doing? What are you working at?” “Well,” said he, “I think one ought to go to church.” I replied: “Yes, the church-going habit is a good one; I do not think I have ever known one being harmed by it. But,” I asked, “Do you go regularly every Sunday?” “Oh, no; not every Sunday.” “Do you go on an average once every Sunday?” “No,” he said, “I don’t think I could say that.” “Well, do you average once every other Sunday?” I asked. And he replied; “Well, I am afraid not; I am afraid it would hurry me a good deal.” So I said: “Then you are not much of a church-goer?” “No,” he replied, “I don’t think I am much in the church-going line.” “Then you are not doing the best you can in that way, are you?” And he admitted that he was not. “But,” I added, “Suppose you went to church every time the church was open regularly, year in and year out, and never found the Christ that the church everywhere points to, for,” I added, “it is a significant fact that every church under the sun, worthy the name, unites in pointing to Christ, no matter what the denomination may be. Now,” I said, “do you think mere church-going could ever save anybody?” And he replied, “No, I don’t think so.” “Very well,” I said, “now what else are you doing?” “Well, I am doing the best I can.” “But,” I said, “in what line? What are doing?” He replied, “Well, I think a man ought to read and study the Bible.”

And I said, “So do I; are you a Bible student?” He admitted frankly that he was not, and then I added: “Do you read the Bible regularly?” And he replied, “I fear I do not.” “Have you read the Old Testament through?” “No.” “Have you read the New Testament through?” “No.” “Have you read a single book of the Bible through?” Instantly he answered: “Yes, I think I have; as much as would make one book at least.” “Which one?” I asked, and I feared he would say Jude, since Jude has only one chapter, and that is one of the shortest in the Bible, but he said he had read one of the Gospels, and so I asked, “Which one?” for since there are four and each one presents a different aspect of the truth, I could not talk intelligently about it without knowing which one; but I found he could not tell, and so it was on his own confession he knew little or nothing about the Bible. “But,” I said, “suppose you hdve read the Bible through consecutively-, several times during the year, which is quite possible, and yet had never found the Christ that every book and indeed every chapter of the Bible points to, could mere Bible reading save your soul?” And he said, no, he did not think it could, and yet he insisted he was doing the best he could; but everything he spoke of resulted in the same way. He was practically doing nothing at it. Our conversation was kindly and friendly throughout, and at last I said to the man: “Do you really want to know how you can do the best you can?” And by that time he was thoroughly interested, and he replied: “I do.” “Very well,” I said, “I will make a simple logical statement, which, I think, you can follow easily. First, God did the best He could when He gave His Son, did he not?” And he replied: “Yes, I agree to that.” “Jesus Christ did the best He could when He gave Himself to die on Calvary, did He not?” And he said: “Yes, I agree to that also. “Very well, then,” I added, “you will do the best you can when you take the gift and thank God for it. It is the taking of the gift that transforms the life.”

Speaking once, in Montreal, to a great audience of men, I pressed this point, and, at the close, a young Englishman pushed his way up through the audience, and, clasping my hand, said: “I want to thank you, sir, for pressing the matter upon my attention to-day, for I have taken the gift.” He was a splendid specimen of healthy, hearty, athletic young Englishman. He continued: “I have one of the best fathers and mothers that God ever gave to any boy, but I have been wild and reckless, have been to Australia and California, but am now on my way back to England, and I thank God that to-day / have taken the gift.” Someone spoke to me and I turned away, and when I turned back he was gone. I never expected to hear of him again, but a couple of years ago, when I was speaking on the Surrey side of the Thames, in London, at the close of the service a fine looking English woman pressed her way to the platform and waited to speak to me. I hurried to her side, thinking she desired to talk to me about her soul’s salvation. As quickly as I could, I asked: “Is there anything I can do for you; can I help you in any way?” She replied: “I fear, sir, that I can scarcely control my feelings sufficiently to speak to you, but when you were telling of the young Englishman who took the gift in America, I felt that I must tell you that // zvas my son, and I also want to assure you that the taking of the gift has transformed his life.”

THIRD: The; Invitation of God. “That whosoever believeth in him.” For once at least here is an invitation that includes every one, for as the little boy said, when asked to define the word “Whosoever,” “It means you or me or anybody else,” And one could scarcely have a more illuminating definition of the word than this, and yet how strange it is that many people miss the benefits and blessing which God has provided for them in Christ because they cannot quite understand that it is a personal matter. There is a quaint printer in the lower part of New York City who, years ago, in his leisure moments, set up and printed a New Testament for himself, so whenever he came to an invitation or promise that had in it the idea of the word whosoever as meaning for anyone, he put in his own name. I do not quite recall the man’s name, but we will say it was John Smith. Our text would therefore read: “For God so loved John Smith, that He gave His only begotten Son that John Smith believing in Him, should not perish but have everlasting life.” And so he made the matter personal; but if he had lost this testament and I, seeking the

Savior, had found it, I could not have claimed the promise as mine, for my name is not John Smith; but in God’s word the invitation includes everyone, so there can be no mistake, tlovv the preacher longs sometimes to be able to make his message as definite and personal as this!

I have been told that a man speaking in one of the services for sailors on the east side in New York found difficulty in making them understand this, and so hit upon a very forcible illustration to the sailors: He said something like this: “Now, lads, look out, I am going to throw out a rope to you just as I would if you were sinking for the last time (and it may be that some of you are going down under the billows of sin that are threatening to engulf you).” Then in imagination he began to coil a rope and swing it about his head as the sailors do, and every sailor craned his neck to see if the man had ever been on the sea (for these seafaring men could tell at once by the way he handled the rope). Presently, in imagination, he threw the ropes to different parts of the room, and as he did so, he said.” “Whosoever will may receive salvation through Jesus Christ our Savior.” One who was present said that it was so real that some of the sailors ducked their heads as, in imagination, they felt the noose settle down over their shoulders. Would that men and women hearing the Gospel might feel that it was for them as if there were no one else in the world interested.

Have you ever put in your name, friend? There is not a single benefit or blessing in the Gospel that is not for you as much as anyone else in all the world.

FOURTH: The Promise of God. “That zvhosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life.” What does it mean to perish? This is an ominous word, and it must be remembered that it is our Lord’s own description of those who reject the Gospel. Did He not say in this same discourse to Nicodemus: “For God sent not his son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world through him might be saved. He that believeth on him is not condemned, but he that believeth not is condemned already because he hath not believed on the only begotten Son of God, and this is the condemnation that light is come into the world and men love darkness rather than light, because their deeds are evil.”

To perish from the presence of God must mean something dreadful beyond expression, since Jesus in his public teaching seems to have been almost at a loss for words or figures to express the depths of his meaning, but the comforting and encouraging thought in the text is God’s promise to those who personally accept His son, and therefore the promise of the text stands between the soul and perishing.

A man riding across the prairies of Minnesota was suddenly overtaken by a fearful blizzard, and in the gathering storm and darkness lost his way. Both man and beast seemed utterly enveloped by the fierce storm. After a little that strange numbness began to creep over his limbs, and he gave himself up for lost, then the horse stumbled over some growth on the prairie and the rider falling, recovered consciousness and a sense of his peril. Discovering a growth of shrubs on the prairie, the thought at once occurred to him that he might gather dry leaves and twigs sufficient to build a fire and so save himself until the storm was over-past. Hastily he went to work, the poor beast, by instinct, seeking to shield him. When sufficient fuel had been gathered he sought for a match with which to start the fire, and looking through every pocket in his clothing he found a match, just one match between him and perishing. Never before did a match seem so precious a thing to him. What if it should go out when he struck it? Then, indeed, he must perish. But at last he took courage, and shielding it from the blast by his clothing, he struck the match, the blue flame sprang up and then died away, and as he said, it seemed as though his heart came into his mouth. What if it should go out? But, presently the brighter flame followed, and he was saved to tell the story.

How blessed a thing it is, that one does not have to rest upon such a flimsy and uncertain a thing as a match but upon the sure promise of God in the matter of his salvation.

I doubt if any single text of Scripture has been used of God in leading so many to trust in Christ as their personal Savior, as John 3:16, and I do not know of any surer or safer promise than this upon which to rest for eternity. The story is told of a little boy standing by the lamp-post of one of the streets of Dublin, when a gentleman laid his hand kindly on his shoulder, and said: “My lad, you ought not to be here at this time of night; you ought to be at home.” The little fellow replied sadly: “That’s true, sir, but I have no home to go to.’’ In kindness of heart, the gentleman said: “If you had a home to go to, would you be glad to go to it? If so and you will go to a certain street and number you will find just such a home.” The little fellow evidenced his faith by starting off at once in the direction indicated, when he was called back, and the man said: “Can you read and write?” The little lad replied, “No, sir.” “Well,” said the man, “you will need a password to get into the home, and the password is John three sixteen.” The little fellow went ofif at once, and, coming to the number, rang the bell. Presently he heard the sturdy tread of the porter as he came down the long dark passageway swinging his lantern, and soon a gruff voice said: “Who is there?” The little fellow replied: “Please, sir, it’s JoJin three sixteen.” And into the home he went. They treated him kindly, gave him a warm meal and a nice clean bed, such as his poor, tired body had probably never rested in before. In the morning they treated him kindly and sent him out to sell his papers during the day. Perhaps because of his joy in his new found home or occul)ie(l with the thought of it, in a careless moment, he was run over by a carriage, picked up for dead and sent to the hospital in an ambulance. When he reached the receiving room, he had recovered sufficiently to answer in a weak way the questions the kindly surgeon put to him. W’hen asked his name, he hesitated a moment and answ’ered, “Yesterday it was so and so” — giving- an Irish name — “but to-day it is John Three Sixteen,” and so it went down on the hospital register, Name, John Three Sixteen; nationality, Irish; etc., and then he went into the ward. After a little the delirium came on and the boy began to cry out in a loud shrill voice, “John Three Surteenhnt it did me good;John Three Sixteen, but it did no good.” Some of the convalescents were interested, and one said to another, what does the child mean? “Why.” said one, “that is in the Testament, let us look it up.” And so finding a New Testament, they turned to the words of the text: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son.” etc., and at last one of the company was led to receive Christ through the reading of the text. In the course of time the boy was convalescent and this man came to him one morning and said: “Well, little John Three Sixteen, and how are you this morning?” “Why do you call me that, sir?” said the lad. “Because you called yourself that w’hen you first came in, and I for one thank God for John Three Sixteen.” And then the man told him all the story. Presently the little face lighted up, and the boy said: “Oh, I understand, sir, now, you mean that it is not only the password into the home down here, but into the home up there also.” He was assured that this was exactly the truth, and so the boy himself entered into the joy of it.

Some clays afterwards, when he was able to get up and about, he heard a man groaning on a cot over in one corner of the ward, and going over to him, his warm Irish heart touched into sympathy for the suffering, he said: “Patrick, what is the trouble this morning?” “Sure, trouble enough. I am going to die, and T am so afraid. The priest has been here and anointed me for my burial, and the sisters came and put these beads about my neck and left me with their blessing. They have all been so kind, but oh, it is so dark and I am afraid to die.” “Oh, Patrick, I know what you need,” said the boy, “you need the password.” And giving him John 3: 16 as the password into the home above, the poor, ignorant, illiterate, dying Irishman grasped the password by faith and went out to meet his God. Could he have had a better promise to rest upon? Friends, have you the password?