11 Sermon Illustrations on Victory Over Sin

The power of death, the last enemy, is destroyed, as it respects all who believe in Christ: instead of being the jailer of hell and the grave, he is now, as it respects Christ's people, the porter of paradise. All he can now do is to cause them to sleep in Jesus, release their immortal spirits from the fetters which bind them to earth, and deposit their weary bodies in the tomb as a place of rest, till Christ comes at the last day to raise them incorruptible, glorious, and immortal, and re-unite them to their souls in a state of perfect, never-ending felicity.

— Dr. Payson

Rev. John Reese of London, when on his death-bed, was asked for his experience. He replied, "Christ in his person, Christ in the love of his heart, and Christ in the power of his arm, is the rock on which I rest; and now, Death, strike!"

The legend of St. George, as it was accepted by the people and artists of the middle ages, runs thus: He was a native of Cappadocia, living in the time of the Emperor Diocletian, born of noble Christian parents, and a tribune in the army. It is related, that, in travelling to join his legion, he came to a certain city in Libya called Seleuc. The inhabitants of this city were in great trouble and consternation in consequence of the ravages of a monstrous dragon, which issued from a neighboring lake or marsh, and devoured the flocks and herds of the people, who had taken refuge within the walls; and to prevent him from approaching the city, the air of which was poisoned by his pestiferous breath, they offered him daily two sheep; and, when the sheep were exhausted, they were forced to sacrifice to him two of their children daily, to save the rest. The children were taken by lot (all under the age of fifteen); and the whole city was filled with mourning, with the lamentations of bereaved parents, and the cries of the innocent victims. Now the king of this city had one daughter, exceedingly fair; and her name was Cleodolinda. And after some time, when many people had perished, the lot fell upon her; and the monarch, in his despair, offered all his gold and treasures, and even the half of his kingdom, to redeem her: but the people murmured, saying, "Is this just, O King! that thou by thine own edict hast made us desolate, and, behold! now thou wouldst withhold thine own child?" And they waxed more and more wroth; and they threatened to burn him in his palace, unless the princess was delivered up. Then the king submitted, and asked only a delay of eight days to bewail her fate; which was granted. And at the end of eight days, the princess, being clothed in her royal robes, was led forth as a victim for sacrifice; and she fell at her father's feet, and asked his blessing, saying that she was ready to die for her people: and then, amid tears and lamentations, she was put forth, and the gates shut against her. Slowly she walked towards the dwelling of the dragon, the path being drearily strewn with the bones of former victims; and she wept as she went on her way. Now, at this time, St. George was passing by, mounted on his good steed; and, being moved to see so beautiful a virgin in tears, he paused to ask her why she wept; and she told him. And he said, "Fear not, for I will deliver you!" And she replied, "O noble youth! tarry not here, lest thou perish with me, but fly, I beseech thee!" But St. George would not; and he said, "God forbid that I should fly! I will lift my hand against this loathly thing, and will deliver thee through the power of Jesus Christ!" At that moment, the monster was seen emerging from his lair, and half crawling, half flying towards them. Then the virgin princess trembled exceedingly, and cried out, "Fly, I beseech thee, brave knight, and leave me here to die!" But he answered not; only making the sign of the cross, and calling on the name of the Redeemer, he spurred towards the dragon; and, after a terrible and prolonged combat, he pinned him to the earth with his lance. Then he desired the princess to bring her girdle: and he bound the dragon fast, and gave the girdle to her hand; and the subdued monster crawled after them like a dog. In this guise, they approached the city. The people being greatly terrified, St. George called out to them, saying, "Fear nothing! only believe in the God through whose might I have conquered this adversary, and be baptized, and I will destroy him before your eyes." So the king and his people believed, and were baptized, — twenty thousand people in one day. Then St. George slew the dragon, and cut off his head; and the king bestowed great rewards and treasures on the victorious knight; but he distributed all to the poor, and kept nothing, and went on his way, and came to Palestine.

— Mrs. Jameson

A man that is born a conqueror over his own corruptions and over himself, he is greater than ever was the greatest conqueror; and it is better to be made in this kind a victor over his own passions than to be universal emperor of all the world. Saith Seneca, there are many men that have subdued principalities, kingdoms, cities, towns, and countries, and brought them under their own mastery; but there are few that have guided themselves, but still there is a tiger within them that disgraceth and obscureth their outward conquest by reason of foul scethings and corruption in their own flesh: therefore, for a man to get the victory, and to overcome himself, is to get the victory, and to overcome all the world; for man is a microcosm, a little world, as St. Austin saith. Day.

The Mohegans were an excellent tribe of Indians, who lived about Norwich, Ct. They had a long line of kings in the family of Uncas. One of the last was Zachary; but he was a great drunkard. But a sense of the dignity of his office came over him, and he resolved he would drink no more. Just before the annual election, he was accustomed to go every year to Lebanon, and dine with his brother Governor, the first Gov. Trumbull. One of the Governor's boys had heard old Zachary's story, and thought he would try him, and see if he would stick to his cold water. So at table he said to the old chief:—"Zachary, this beer is excellent; will you taste it?"

The old man dropped his knife, leaned forward with stern intensity of expression, his black eye sparkling with indignation, was fixed on him: "John," said he, "you do not know what you are doing. You are serving the devil, boy! I tell you that I am an Indian! I tell you that I am; and that if I should but taste your beer, I could not stop until I got to ruin, and become again the drunken, contemptible wretch your father remembers me to have been. John, while you live, never tempt a man to break a good resolution."

This story the venerable Col. Trumbull tells of himself. Let all our readers remember it, and never tempt a man to break a good resolution.