Faith in Christian preaching is trust and confidence in God’s promises, often unseen but deeply assured (Hebrews 11:1). Illustrations use images of mental attitudes, overcoming barriers, and spiritual vision to show how faith shapes perception, sustains believers through trials, and directs their focus toward Christ’s ultimate goal (2 Corinthians 5:7).
Faith involves believing unseen realities, like the brain's existence without seeing it.
A skeptical young man confronted an old Quaker with the statement that he did not believe the Bible. The Quaker said, "Dost thou believe in France?" "Yes, though I have not seen it, I have seen others that have; besides there is plenty of corroborative evidence that such a country exists." "Then you will not believe anything you or others have not seen?" "No, to be sure I won't." "Did you ever see your own brains?" "No." "Ever see anybody that did?" "No." "Do you then believe you have any?"
Saving faith imparts God's nature, enabling us to live His life through Him.
A soldier being dealt with by a Christian worker put it very well when he said, "I see it now! God does not expect me to live His life without first giving me His nature." Faith which implants God's nature in the heart of man is a saving faith, and the faith which does not is not saving faith. Even if a man says he believes there is eternal salvation in Jesus Christ, this declaration will not save him, but going to Jesus Christ and losing himself in Him saves him. Faith which makes us run into the arms of Jesus saves; faith that makes us stand still does not save. Our works of faith emanate from a source of moral standards which we did not set up and which we cannot pull down, one that is ever above the laws of human fabrication.
Faith is fundamental and practical, essential even in everyday business and life.
A minister tells how in his first parish a banker occasionally came to his church, and every time he came the minister happened to be preaching on faith. The banker said to him, "Why don't you preach on something other than faith? Why don't you preach on something practical?" A few days later there was a run on his bank, and the minister went down to see what was going on. He found the people demanding their money; they were alarmed and suspicious, and the banker was going up and down the line saying to these people, "Everything is all right. There is nothing wrong with the bank." The minister touched him on the shoulder and said, "What is the matter?" "Why," he said, "there is nothing wrong, but these people have lost faith in the bank." The minister replied, "Do you remember when you told me to preach on something more practical than faith?" "Oh, yes," he said, "I remember it very well, and I take it all back. After all, there is nothing so fundamental to the business interests and commercial life as faith."
Faith surpasses reason by enabling belief beyond what reason can achieve.
An old writer says, "Faith and reason may be compared to two travelers: Faith is like a man in full health who can walk twenty or thirty miles at a time without suffering. Reason is like a child, who can only with difficulty accomplish three or four miles. On a given day Reason says to Faith, 'O good Faith, let me walk with thee.' Faith replies, 'O Reason, thou canst never walk with me!' However, to try their paces, they set out together, but they soon find it hard to keep company. When they come to a deep river, Reason says, 'I can never ford this,' but Faith wades through it singing. When they reach a lofty mountain, there is the same exclamation of despair; and in such cases, Faith, in order not to leave Reason behind, is obliged to carry him on his back; and, oh, how dependent upon Faith is Reason!" Why has God made faith the indispensable ingredient in man's approach to Him? Is it not precisely because man's reason can go only so far? Where reason comes up against an insurmountable obstacle, faith soars above it and apprehends God and heavenly mysteries by this divinely given faculty.
Belief often precedes understanding, as shown by nature's mysteries.
Some people pride themselves on being agnostics. That is, they say that religious teachings are very well for those who care to be so stupid that they want to believe in God and heaven, something they cannot see. The agnostics, however, pride themselves on believing only those things which they can prove and understand. This reminds me of a story.
"I will not believe anything that I do not understand," said a man in a hotel one day. "Neither will I," said another. "Nor will I," said a third. "Gentlemen," said one who sat close by, "on my ride this morning I saw some geese in a field eating grass. Do you believe that?"
"Certainly," said one of the three listeners. "I saw the pigs eating grass. Do you believe that?" "Of course," said the three. "I also saw sheep and cows eating grass. Do you believe that?" "Of course," was again the reply.
"Well, the grass turned to feathers on the backs of the geese, to bristles on the backs of the swine, to white wool on the sheep, and to hair on the cow; do you believe that, gentlemen?" "Certainly," they replied.
"But do you understand it?"
Believers accept God's mysteries by faith, not by fully understanding Him.
The mysteries of God are like a bottle that contains medicine. It is the medicine that cures you, not the bottle. Without even questioning it, you accept the fact that the medicine could not be presented to you without its container. You do not reject the medicine simply because you do not understand the composition of the bottle. The Infinite God
The late Dr. Clarence Edward Macartney, while a theological student, visited the home of a skeptic. The skeptic's argument was as follows: "If a man tells me that he has a horse which can trot a mile in three minutes, I tell him to bring out the horse and prove it. If you tell me that there is a God, I ask you to produce God and prove His existence." Macartney replied, "No Christian claims to know God, nor would want to know Him in that way. By that kind of searching we cannot know the Almighty to perfection. The Christian believer does not say, 'I know God,' or 'I see God,' or 'I think there is a God,' but 'I believe in God.' "
Doubting God's Word is not honest faith; true faith trusts God's infallible witness.
“If we receive the witness of men, the witness of God is greater.” 1 John 5:9
Often when pressing the claims of Christ upon men and urging them to believe the gospel, I have had them seek to parry by declaring that they could not believe, as they were honest doubters. I suppose there is such a thing as an honest doubter, but I dislike the expression when that which men profess honestly to doubt is the infallible Word of the living God. Tennyson has written, “There is more faith in honest doubt, Believe me, than in half your creeds.”
I am not so sure that Tennyson was correct; certainly not if it is a question of doubting the truth of the gospel. I would not like to go home and tell my wife something and have her say, “Well, my dear, I am trying to believe you, but, honestly, I doubt you. I believe there is more faith in honest doubt than in being too sure you are not trying to put one over on me.”
A lady said when I had explained the way of life as clearly as I knew how and shown her some plain, definite passages from the Holy Scriptures, such as John 5:24 and Matthew 11:28, “Well, I am trying to believe.”
“Trying to believe whom?” I inquired. “It is God who has spoken in His Word. What do you mean by saying you are trying to believe Him?”
She saw her sin and her mistake and exclaimed, “Oh, I did not realize what I was saying. Yes, I can and I do believe what God has declared.” And her soul entered into peace.
Salvation depends on faith and acceptance, not on feelings or emotions.
"I can't feel," says one. That is the very last excuse. When a man comes with that excuse he is getting pretty near the Lord. We are having a body of men in England giving a new translation of the Scriptures. I think we should get them to put in a passage relating to feeling. With some people it is feel, feel, feel all the time. What kind of feeling have you got? Have you got a desire to be saved, have you got a desire to be present at the marriage supper? Suppose a gentleman asked me to dinner, I say, "I will see how I feel." "Sick?" he might ask. "No; it depends on how I feel." That is not the question--it is whether I will accept the invitation or not. The question with us is, will we accept salvation--will you believe? There is not a word about feelings in the Scriptures. When you come to your end, and you know that in a few days you will be in the presence of the Judge of all the earth, you will remember this excuse about feelings. You will be saying, "I went up to the Tabernacle, I remember, and I felt very good, and before the meeting was over I felt very bad, and I didn't feel I had the right kind of feeling to accept the invitation." Satan will then say, "I made you feel so." Suppose you build your hopes and fix yourself upon the Rock of Ages, the devil cannot come to you. Stand upon the Word of God and the waves of unbelief cannot touch you, the waves of persecution cannot assail you; the devil and all the fiends of hell cannot approach you if you only build your hopes upon God's Word. Say, I will trust Him, though He slay me--I will take God at His word.
Taking God's promises at face value brings peace amid fear and judgment.
Some time ago I remember reading of an incident that occurred between a prince in a foreign land and one of his subjects. This man for rebellion against the government was going to be executed. He was taken to the guillotine block. When the poor fellow reached the place of execution he was trembling with fear. The prince was present and asked him if he wished anything before judgment was carded out. The culprit replied: "A glass of water." It was brought to him, but he was so nervous he couldn't drink it. "Do not fear," said the prince to him, "judgment will not be carried out till you drink that water," and in an instant the glass was dashed to the ground and broken into a thousand pieces. He took that prince at his word.
Faith must be continuous like lungs always breathing spiritual air.
"Some graces, like the lungs, are always in use." "Pray without ceasing"; "be thou in the fear of the Lord all the day long"; and such like exhortations appertain to continuous duties. Thus David says, "I have set the Lord always before me"; he was always living in the presence of God. Other parts of the human frame are exercised occasionally, but the lungs are always at work, and, even so, certain of the graces are in active motion in their appointed seasons, but faith never ceases to believe in the Lord Jesus, for it is essential to spiritual
vitality. Hence we ought never to go where we shall be out of the atmosphere of heaven. Lungs must have air, and cannot endure a dense smoke or a poisonous gas; nor can faith bear error, false doctrine, and evil conversation. Since we always need the pure air of heaven, let us not go where it cannot be found. Who in his senses would desire to have been in the Black Hole of Calcutta? Who wishes to dwell where drunkenness and loose living abound? How can faith breathe in such a suffocating atmosphere? Lord, keep thou my faith alive, that it may keep me alive, and that I may live to thee.
God compassionately helps even weak, trembling faith to grasp His blessings.
"We give a beggar an alms, though he receives it with a trembling, palsied hand, and if he lets it fall, we let him stoop for it." So doth the Lord give even to our weak faith, and in his great tenderness permits us afterwards to enjoy what at first we could not grasp. The trembling hand is part of the poor beggar's distress, and the weakness of our faith is a part of our spiritual poverty; therefore it moves the divine compassion, and is an argument with heavenly pity. As a sin, unbelief grieves the Spirit, but as a weakness, mourned and confessed, it secures his help. "Lord, I believe," is a confession of faith which loses none of its acceptableness when it is followed by the prayer, "help thou mine unbelief."
God's approval matters far more than human opinion in the believer's race.
"It is no matter what standers-by say of the runner, so the judge of the race doth approve of his running." Yet we all make too much of the approval or disapproval of our fellowmen, who are, after all, only the spectators, and not the umpires, of the race. What folly this is! What injuries it inflicts! We are elevated by human opinion if it be favourable to us, and this betrays us into the weakness of pride; which weakness soon shows itself in faint-heartedness, when that unstable opinion veers round, and blows a cold blast of fault-finding. If we were steadily "looking unto Jesus," this would not happen, and our running would be more regular and less disturbed. Be it our endeavour to live above men, in the conscious presence of God. Who and what are men that we should live upon the breath of their nostrils? Their judgment is a small matter; the judgment of God is all in all. Lord, thou hast said, "Walk before me, and be thou perfect," and from this I learn that I cannot hope for perfection unless I set thee always before me, and rate thine approval at an infinitely higher price than the judgment of those about me. Enable me to say with thy servant David, "I have set the Lord always before me: because he is at my right hand, I shall not be moved."
Faith is the proper means to grasp spiritual truths beyond human reason.
Chrysostom hath the following comparison:—"A smith that taketh up his red-hot iron with his hands, and not with his tongs, what can he expect but to burn his fingers?" So we destroy our souls when we judge of the mysteries of faith by the laws of common reason. Common enough is this error. Men must needs comprehend when their main business is to apprehend. That which God reveals to us is, to a large extent, beyond the reach of understanding, and, therefore, in refusing to believe until we can understand, we are doing ourselves and the truth a grievous wrong. Our wisdom lies as much in taking heed how we receive as in being careful what we receive. Spiritual truth must be received by a spiritual faculty; namely, by faith. As well hope to grasp a star by the hand, as divine truth by reason. Faith is well likened to the golden tongs, with which we may carry live coals; and carnal reason is the burned hand, which lets fall the glowing mass, which it is not capable of carrying. Let it not, however, be thought that faith is contrary to reason. No: it is not unreasonable for a little child to believe its father's statements, though it be quite incapable of perceiving all their bearings. It is quite reasonable that a pupil should accept his master's principles at the beginning of his studies; he will get but little from his discipleship if he begins by disputing with his teacher. How are we to learn anything if we will not believe? In the gloriously sublime truths of Godhead, Incarnation, Atonement, Regeneration, and so forth, we must believe, or be for ever ignorant: these masses of the molten metal of eternal truth must be handled by faith, or let alone. All-gracious Lord, this one thing thou hast done for me,— thou hast made me a willing believer. Let but thine authority be at the back of a statement, and it stands instead of reason: in fact, thy word is to me the surest evidence, and to believe it is my soundest common sense. O Lord, thy LOGOS is my logic, thy Testament is my argument; thy Word is my warrant. In the day which shall reveal all things it shall be seen that man's reasonings are but childish folly, and God's revelation is wisdom at its height.
Unstable faith that repeatedly doubts Christ's atonement brings no lasting spiritual healing.
"A plaister may be of sovereign efficacy, but when you are still pulling it off and on it doth you no good." Faith applies Christ to the soul; but what if unbelief tears him away? A promise is a great heal-all, but what if we believe and disbelieve, trust and distrust? How can the surest promise comfort us? Men turn to God in their fashion, and before any benefit can come of it they turn away from him. What do they expect from such folly? Instability in saving concerns is a deadly evil, a mockery of God, and a robbery of ourselves. Lord, thy Son's atonement is the blessed plaister which has healed my soul's sore. Thou hast applied it, and I will keep it on my heart for ever, whatever may happen, and whoever may ridicule. This hope I have by thy grace, and none shall take it from me.
People often believe things they don't understand, showing faith is not always based on full understanding.
"I will not believe any thing but what I understand," said a young man in a hotel one day. "Nor will I," said another. "Neither will I," chimed a third. "Gentlemen," said one who was on a journey, and who sat close by, "do I understand you correctly, that you will not believe any thing that you don't understand?"
"I will not," said one; and so each one of the trio said. "Well," said the stranger, "in my ride this morning, I saw some geese in a field cating grass: do you believe that?"—"Certainly," said the three unbelievers. "I also saw pigs, cows, and sheep eating grass: do you believe that?"—"Of course," was again replied.
"Well, but the grass which they had formerly caten, had, by digestion, turned to feathers on the backs of the geese, to bristles on the backs of the swine, to wool on the sheep, and on the cows it had turned to hair: do you believe that, gentlemen?"—"Certainly," they replied.
"Yes, you believe it," he rejoined; "but do you understand it?" They were confounded, silent, and evidently ashamed.
Trying to reclaim a profligate friend risks one's own faith and virtue.
A man should be very well established in faith and virtue who attempts to reclaim a witty and agreeable profligate; otherwise he may become a convert, instead of making one. Chapelle, a person of this character, was not one day in the street by his friend Boileau, who took the opportunity of mentioning to him his habit of drinking, and the consequences of it. Unfortunately, they were just by a tavern. Chapelle only desired they might step in there, and promised he would listen patiently and attentively. Boileau consented; and the event was, that, about one in the morning, they were carried home dead-drunk, and in separate coaches.
— Bishop Horne
People often believe extravagant stories more readily than simple, true ones.
When a sailor told his mother about flying-fish, the old lady shook her head, and said, "John, John, what a liar you are!" But when he told her about fishing in the Red Sea, and at the first throw of the net hauling up a chariot-wheel made all of gold, and inlaid with diamonds, which he supposed was one of the wheels of Pharaoh's chariot, who was drowned while pursuing the Israelites, "Lord bless us!" said she: "now that is possible. Tell me such stories as that, and I'll believe you; but never talk to me of such things as flying-fish!"
Some accept beliefs uncritically without understanding what they truly mean.
A collier was examined on the subject of his faith as follows: "What do you believe?"—"I believe what the Church believes?"—"What, then, does the Church believe?"—"The Church believes what I believe."—"Tell me, then, I pray you, what it is which you and the Church both believe."—"Why, truly, sir, the Church and I both believe the same thing."
Two opposing spiritual loyalties cannot coexist in a believer's heart.
Mark Antony yoked two lions to his chariot; but there are two lions no man ever yoked together yet, — the lion of the tribe of Judah, and the lion of the pit. Those can never go together. Two opinions you may hold in politics, perhaps; but then you will be despised by everybody unless you are of one opinion or the other, and act as an independent man: but two opinions in the matter of soul-religion you cannot hold.
— Spurgeon
Faith grows like a banyan tree, producing experience that deepens faith continually.
Faith, in its reproductive power and progress of growth, may be compared to the great Oriental banyan-tree. It springs up in God, rooted in God's word; and soon there are the great waving branches of experience. Then from these very branches the runners go down again into God's word; and thence spring up again new products of faith, and new trees of experience, till one and the same tree becomes in itself a grove, with pillared shades and echoing walks between. So experience first grows out of faith; and then greater faith grows out of experience, the word of God being all the while the region of its roots; and, again, a still vaster, richer experience grows out of that faith, till every branch becomes not only a product, but a parent stock set in the same word, and all expanding into a various magnificent and enlarging forest. Cheever.
Spiritual faith enables seeing God's goodness beyond physical sight limitations.
Myra used to be entertained by her grandfather, who likened her to a fresh bud, that would soon burst into a flower; and himself to a faded leaf, which was almost ready to fall from the tree. One day, after Myra had had a pleasant walk with her grandfather, she sat down with her mother; and then they talked together in the following manner: "I wish I had grandfather's eyes, mother!"—"What can you possibly want with the eyes of your grandfather, Myra?"—"Oh! if I had his eyes, I should see all that he sees when we are walking together; but now I cannot see half so much as he does."—"No! that is very strange, when you are young, and he is old. He often says that his sight is not what it used to be; and, though the Bible is in large print, he is obliged to use spectacles."—"Yes, mother; but, for all that, he can see more than I can."—"Tell me what you mean, love; for I cannot at all understand you."—"Why, when we walk out in the fields and lanes, let us look at what we will, he says he sees God's goodness in every thing."—"Ah, Myra! it is not grandfather's eyes, but grandfather's faith, that you want. Pray to God to open the eyes of your understanding, to give you a heart to love and trust him, and you will then see him, not only in all the works of his hand, but in all the events of life."
Clear, lively faith reflects God's truth beautifully; corrupted faith loses spiritual clarity.
When the water of a gently-flowing river is unruffled and clear, it reflects most beautifully the floating clouds and the overhanging objects; but, when agitated, it becomes in a great measure opaque, and loses its power of reflection. So it is with the faith of Christians; when clear and lively, how strong and beautiful are its reflections of the things of God, which as objects hang over it! but when it is deadened by the influence of the world, or corrupted with sin of any degree, its clearness disappears, and the spiritual things of God are lost from its bosom.
True faith involves responsible action alongside trusting God’s care.
After a weary march through the desert, Mahomet was camping with his followers, and overheard one of them say, "I will loose my camel, and commit it to God;" to which he replied, "Friend, tie thy camel, and commit it to God."
A person's faith shapes their conscience, determining what they see as right or wrong.
Conscience is so modified by a man's faith, that it will sanction an act in one man which it will condemn in another. A Roman Catholic believes that he ought to pray to the Virgin Mary to intercede for him with God; and, if a good Roman Catholic were to neglect his worship to the saints, his conscience would smite him, until he would confess his sin with tears. Now, if a good Protestant were to pray to saints, or to any other being but God, his conscience would smite him for doing that which the conscience of the Roman Catholic smote him for not doing. So the heathen mother will conscientiously throw her infant into the Ganges, or under the wheels of Juggernaut, while the conscience of a Christian mother would convict her of murder, were she to do the same act. Conscience seldom convicts those that
Christians call impenitent persons for neglecting to pray; while, the moment a man becomes a true believer, he will be convicted of guilt if he neglects the duty. So certainly and so clearly is it true, that a man's conscience is governed by his faith. J. B. Walker.
Faith is the root and foundation from which all Christian virtues and works grow.
The root of a tree is a ragged and a jagged thing,—no shape, no proportion, no comeliness, in it, and therefore keeps itself in the earth, as unwilling to be seen; yet all the beauty that is in the tree,—the straightness of the bulk and body, the spreading fairness of the branches, the glory of the leaves and flowers, the commodity of the fruits,—proceed from the root: by that the whole subsisteth. So faith seems to be but a sorry grace, a virtue of no regard; devotion is acceptable, for it honors God; charity is noble, for it does good to men; holiness is the image of heaven, therefore beauteous; thankfulness is the tune of angels, therefore melodious. But what is faith good for? Yes: it is good for every good purpose,—the foundation and root of all graces. All the prayers made by devotion, all the good works done by charity, all the actual expressions of holiness, all the praises sounded forth by thankfulness, come from the root of faith, that is the life of them all. Faith doth animate works, as the body lives by the soul. Spencer.
Faith is the key that unlocks God's treasure-house of grace for body and soul.
When a man hath liberty to go into the treasure-house of a king, to enrich himself, he will first seek the keys wherewith to open the doors; so, if we desire to be enriched with God's grace, we must first labor to have faith, which is the only key of God's treasure-house, and secures us all graces needful both for body and soul. Cawdray.
True faith trusts God’s protection even in dangerous and fearful circumstances.
Some naturalists desired to obtain the wild-flowers that grew on the side of a dangerous gorge in the Scotch Highlands. They offered a boy a liberal sum to descend by a rope, and get them. He looked at the money, thought of the danger, and replied, "I will, if my father will hold the rope." With unshrinking nerves, he suffered his father to put the rope about him, lower him into that abyss, and to suspend him there while he filled his little basket with the coveted flowers.
Abraham’s faith trusted God’s promise even when commanded to sacrifice Isaac.
See Abraham sitting in his tent-door! God tells him to take his son to a mountain in the land of Moriah, and there give him for a burnt offering. Without conferring with flesh and blood, he prepares for the journey and the awful sacrifice; and, on the morning of the third day, I see him on the top of the mountain, with the altar built, fire kindled, Isaac bound, and the knife raised to strike the blow. What now, Abraham? wilt thou slay thy son, and make the promise of God of no effect? Has not God said, "In Isaac shall thy seed be called"? "Yes: I know that is the promise; but now God has commanded me to offer Isaac for a burnt offering; and I will do it, for God will raise him from the dead."—"Did'st thou ever see one rise from the dead that had been cut in pieces, and burnt to ashes?"—"No; but the same God who made the promise has given the commandment, and the command cannot make war on the promise." How the patriarch's faith carries him above the dust raised by human reason! Abraham knew that God's promise would march right forward to fulfilment.
— R. V. Lawrence
Faith is a natural, early-born principle in humans, evident even in a child's trust.
All men are born with faith. Faith is as natural to a man as grief or love or anger. One of the earliest flowers that spring up in the soul, it smiles on a mother from her infant's cradle; and, living on through the rudest storms of life, it never dies till the hour of death. On the face of a child which has been left for a little time with strangers, and maybe caressed with their kisses, and courted with their smiles, and fondled and dandled in their arms, I have seen a cloud gathering, and growing darker, till, at length, it burst in cries of terror, and showers of tears. The mother returns; and, when the babe holds out its little arms to her, I see in these arms the arms of faith; and when, like a believer restored to the bosom of his God, it is nestling in a mother's embrace, and the cloud passes from his brow, and its tears are changed into smiles, and its terror into calm serenity, we behold the principle of faith in play. This is one of its earliest, and, so far as nature is concerned, one of its most beautiful developments. Dr. Guthrie.
A child’s question reveals faith’s trust in God even amid grief and loss.
A poor widow was weeping in the room where lay the body of her husband. Their only child came in, and said, "Why do you weep so, mother?" The mother told him of their loss, and especially referred to their poverty. Looking into her face, the little fellow said, "Is God dead, mother?"
Faith is the foundation for hope and guides Christian action and endurance.
Faith always goes before, hope follows after, and may, in some sort, be said to be the daughter of faith; for it is as impossible for a man to hope for that which he believes not, as for a painter to draw a picture in the air. Faith is the Christian's logic; hope, his rhetoric. Faith perceives what is to be done; hope gives alacrity to the doing it. Faith guides, adviseth, reetifieth; hope courageously encounters with all adversaries. Therefore faith is compared to a doctor in the schools; hope, to a captain in the wars. Faith discerns the truth; hope fights against impatience, heaviness of spirit, infirmity, dejectedness, desperation. Faith looks to the word of a thing; hope, to the thing of the word: so that faith hath for its object the truth of God; hope, the goodness of God. Faith is of things both good and bad; hope, of good things only. A man believes there is a hell as truly as he believes there is a heaven; but he fears the one, and hopes only for the other. Faith hath for its object things past, present, and future. Hope only respects and expects things to come.
— T. Adams
Faith reigning in the heart controls all actions and emotions like a king.
The philosopher, when he would persuade the king to settle his court and place of residence in the heart of his dominion, laid before him a bull's hide, ready tanned, which when he stood upon any one side of it, and so kept down that, the other side would rise up; when he removed to the side that rose up, and kept down that, then the side he came from would rise as high; but, when he stood in the middle, he kept down all alike. Thus faith is this great king, which, being seated in the heart, makes provision against every rebellion, keeps down every mutiny, and marshals and orders every action and affection. Spencer.
Faith trusts the light ahead even when the path is not fully visible.
A little boy was walking with his father through a piece of woods at night; and they were lighted on their way by the glimmer of a lantern. The boy, who was carrying the lantern, complained to his father that the light shone but a short distance ahead; and he requested his father to turn back, because he could not see the way better. His father told him to proceed as far as he could see the way, and the light would continue to shine in advance of him.
Faith acts as a shield protecting the believer from spiritual attacks.
A shield is a piece of armor that soldiers were wont to carry with them into the field of battle; so is faith a part of the Christian's armor with which he fights in the soul's warfare. A shield is for defence; so is faith. A shield is not a fixture for any particular part of the body, as the breastplate, the helmet, &c., but was for the hand, to be moved about according to the direction in which the darts came; so is faith a shield against the fiery darts of the wicked, coming to whatever part of the Christian they may. A shield doth not only defend the whole body, but it is a defence to other parts of a soldier's armor also; it keeps off the dart from the helmet and breastplate likewise: so faith is not only a safeguard to the whole soul, but to all the particular parts of the Christian life and character. The shield of faith protects the girdle of truth, the helmet of salvation, and the breastplate of righteousness. A shield hath been of wonderful advantage to soldiers of former times. What wonderful things can be said of faith as a shield in the hands of God's people in all ages! B. Keach.
Faith is the noblest sense, seeing Christ and all times at once.
Sight is the noblest sense; it is quick; we can look from earth to heaven in a moment: it is large; we can see the hemisphere of the heavens at one view: it is sure and certain; in hearing, we may be deceived; and, lastly, it is the most affecting sense. Even so, faith is the quickest, the largest, the most certain, the most affecting grace: like an eagle in the clouds, at one view, it sees Christ in heaven, and looks down upon the world; it looks backwards and forwards; it sees things past, present, and to come. Sibbes.
Faith grows stronger with focus, unlike sight which grows less effective.
By constant sight, the effect of objects seen grows less; by constant faith, the effect of objects believed in grows greater. The probable reason of this is, that personal observation does not admit of the influence of the imagination in impressing the fact; while unseen objects, realized by faith, have the auxiliary aid of the imagination, not to exaggerate them, but to clothe them with living colors, and impress them upon the heart. Whether this be the reason or not, the fact is true, that, the more frequently we see, the less we feel, the power of an object; while, the more frequently we dwell upon an object by faith, the more we feel its power.
— J. B. Walker
A soldier’s faith in the emperor’s word changed his status and obedience.
One day, when Napoleon I. was reviewing his troops in Paris, he let fall the reins of his horse from his hands upon the animal's neck; when the proud charger galloped away. Before the rider could recover the bridle, a common soldier ran out from the ranks, caught the reins, stopped the horse, and placed the bridle again in the hands of the emperor. "Much obliged to you, captain," said Napoleon. The man immediately believed the chief, and said, "Of what regiment, sir." Napoleon, delighted with his quick perception, and ready trust in his word, replied, "Of my Guards!" and rode away. As soon as the emperor left, he laid down his gun, saying, "He may take it who will;" and, instead of returning to the ranks whence he so suddenly issued, he started for the company of staff-officers. They were amazed at his apparent rudeness, and disobedience of orders; and one of the generals contemptuously said, "What does this fellow want here?"—"This fellow," replied the soldier proudly, "is a captain of the Guard."—"You! my poor friend: you are mad to say so," was the answer of the superior officer. "He said it," replied the soldier, pointing to the emperor, still in sight. "I ask your pardon, sir," said the general respectfully: "I was not aware of it." And so the soldier came duly to his post as a captain of Napoleon's Guard.
Faith is more precious and noble than gold in spiritual matters.
Faith is compared to gold; but faith is much more noble than gold. As gold is the most precious metal in things mortal, so faith doth most excel in things spiritual. Caedray.
Faith is the soul's venture to trust Christ against all fears and difficulties.
Faith is nothing else but the soul's venture. It ventures to
Christ, in opposition to all legal terrors. It ventures on Christ, in opposition to our guiltiness. It ventures for Christ, in opposition to all difficulties and discouragements.
— W. Bridge
Faith envisions eternity, making heaven present and death a blessed hope.
Faith is a certain image of eternity; all things are present to it; things past and things to come are all so before the eyes of faith, that he in whose eyes that candle is unkindled beholds heaven as present, and sees how blessed a thing it is to die in God's favor, and to be chimed to our grave with the music of a good conscience. Faith converses with the angels, and antedates the hymns of glory. Every man that hath this grace is as certain that there are glories for him, if he persevere in his duty, as if he had heard and sung the thanksgiving-song for the blessed sentence of doomsday. Dp. Taylor.
Weak faith still truly apprehends God's promises, though less firmly than strong faith.
As a man with a pulsed hand can stretch it out as well to receive a gift at the hand of a king as he that is more sound, though it be not so firmly and steadfastly; so a weak faith will as truly apprehend
God's promises for the pardon of sin as a strong faith, though not so soundly. Caxdray.
Even a small spark of faith can kindle a great flame with the right fuel.
Even in a spark, there is fire. Only try it, lay suitable fuel on it, and see whether it will not kindle the heap, and burst into a flame. Faith, though it may be weak, is nevertheless faith. Faith is not always a glowing torch: it is sometimes a glimmering taper. The taper gives light as well as the torch, but not so brightly. H. Müller.
True Christians cherish belief in God as the joyful foundation of life.
Many men believe in the existence of a God; but they do not love that belief. They know there is a God; but they greatly wish there were none. Some would be very pleased, yea, would set the bells a-ringing, if you believed there were no God. Why, if there were no God, then you might live just as you liked; if there were no God, then you might run riot, and have no fear of future consequences. It would be to you the greatest joy that could be, if you heard that the eternal God had ceased to be. But the Christian never wishes any such a thing as that. The thought that there is a God is the sunshine of his existence. Spurgeon.
Faith enables believers to see the heavenly city as clearly as a distant earthly vision.
HEAVEN, Visiors of A remarkable mirage was lately witnessed at Dover, England, whereby the dome of the cathedral at Boulogne, France, was made distinctly visible to the naked eye; and, by means of a telescope, the entrance to the port, its lighthouse, shipping, the hills surrounding the town, and neighboring farm-houses with their windows illuminated with the setting sun, were plainly distinguished. Even a locomotive and train were seen leaving the city, and travelling towards Calais. The distance is about thirty miles. So faith brings the city above to the believer's vision.
Faith perceives God's promises; hope anticipates their fulfillment in heaven.
Faith and hope, though distinct, are vitally united. They come from the same source, are sustained by the same evidence, and are exercised on the same realities. Faith is the perceiving, hope the anticipating faculty. Faith, looking through the glass of God's word, says to the spirit, "I see heaven opened, and your Saviour enthroned amidst its central splendor." Hope says to it, "You are on your way to that glorious world: you will soon be there; for where he is you must be." Faith cometh by hearing; hope, by experience. Faith hath respect to the truth of the word; hope, to its fulfilment. Faith lays hold of that end of the promise which is nearest to us, even in the divine book; hope, of that end of the promise which is fastened to the mercy-seat within the veil. Faith fights for doctrine; hope, for reward. Faith is founded on what is in the Bible; hope, on what is in heaven. C. Stanford.
Hope without true faith is like a weak link that leads to inevitable spiritual ruin.
If in a place of danger you saw a chain whose uppermost link was surely fixed in the living rock, and whose lowest link, a goodly iron ring, was vibrating invitingly near, you might be induced, by the prospect of an easy deliverance, to venture your body's weight upon its seeming strength. If that lowest link were not within the one above it, but only attached externally, by some brittle twig, you would exchange the slippery place of danger for the plunge into inevitable death. It is like the fall of a sinner, who has risked his soul for the great day on a hope not linked to faith. Arnot.
An infidel rebukes a church member for not giving generously despite professed faith.
In a conversation between a church-member and an infidel, the infidel observed to his friend, that they might as well drop the subject of conversation; "for," said he, "I do not believe a single word you say. And, more than this, I am satisfied that you do not really believe it yourself; for, to my certain knowledge, you have not given, for the last twenty years, as much for the spread of Christianity—such as the building of churches, foreign and domestic missions—as your last Durham cow cost. Why, sir, if I believed the one-half of what you say you believe, I would make the church my rule for giving, and my farm the exception."
Children's rote definition of faith shows the challenge of truly grasping spiritual truths.
A sabbath-school teacher in England was with her class in a room that overlooked the River Avon. She was endeavoring to explain faith. A boat was gliding down the stream, to which she called attention. "Suppose," said the teacher, "I know there is a mutton-pie in that boat, where you cannot see it, and tell you it certainly is there: would you believe what I say?"—"Yes," was the reply of ten voices. "Well, that would be faith," said the teacher. "Now, children, remember what I have told you."—"We will," was the answer. The next sabbath, she examined her class upon the preceding lesson, and asked, "What is faith?" All together responded, "Mutton-pie in a boat!"
A woman's faith and love lead her across nations to find her beloved husband.
Gilbert Becket, who was afterwards a flourishing citizen, was, in his youth, a soldier in the crusades, and, being taken prisoner, became slave to an emir, or Saracen prince. He obtained the confidence of his master, and met and was loved by the emir's daughter. After some time, he effected his escape. The lady with her loving heart followed him. She knew but two words of the English language, — London and Gilbert; and, by repeating the first, she obtained a passage in a vessel, arrived in England, and found her trusting way to the metropolis. She then took to her other talisman, and went from street to street, pronouncing "Gilbert." A crowd collected about her wherever she went, asking a thousand questions; and to all she had but one answer, "Gilbert, Gilbert!" She found her faith in it sufficient. Chance, or the determination to go through every street, brought her at last to the one in which he who had won her heart in slavery was living in a prosperous condition. The crowd drew the family to the window: his servant recognized her; and Gilbert Beekot took to his arms and his bridal-bed his far-come princess, with her solitary fond word. Percy.
A hopeful new year depends on faith and believing in God's goodness.
Lord Dundas, being wished a happy new year, replied, "It had need be happier than the last; for I never knew one happy day in it." Wilberforce said, "The last year has been the happiest of my life." Romainie's new-year's wish for his people was, "God grant that this may be a year famous for believing!"
