It took but three minutes to deliver the sermon I want to tell you about. It was preached in no church or chapel, and it had no "firstly, secondly, thirdly," in it.
Had it a text?
Yes, it had. It was a three-minute sermon on a three-worded text, and it was given to a congregation numbering only ten. But the result of that one little sermon will be known only in eternity.
A small group of coal miners were standing by the office of a large coal mine. It was pay day, and they were waiting to receive their wages. A fine, well-built man of six feet two inches joined them, his pick on his shoulder, and his lamp in his hand.
"Why, Fred," exclaimed one of the group, "we were just talking about you. They say you've turned saint since last week.”
"Or is it angel?" said another. "If it is, you will soon have white wings, and must never go down to blacken them in a coal mine.”
"No, no, don't razz him," said a third miner. "I tell you it's a preacher he'll be turning, and he'll be preaching to us all.”
"Good, let him start at once!" exclaimed the oldest man among them. "Come, Fred, here's your congregation before you can you make out with this block of coal for a pulpit, and preach us a sermon?”
"Yes, yes," echoed a little chorus of voices. "There's five minutes before they begin to pay the wages.”
"Now then, Fred: mount the pulpit, and preach us a three minutes' sermon," said one. "I'll be clerk.”
All this time, the miner addressed as "Fred" had not spoken, but just stood listening with a good-natured smile to the lively banter of his mates. Very quietly he stepped on the block of coal, amid exclamations of, "Ah! ah! What a good joke that is! Fred Sharpe, of all people, turning preacher.”
The bright light from a large iron basket of burning coals lit up the face of the tall miner, showing the peaceful, happy look in his dark eyes. For a moment he bowed his head, and a silent cry went up for help; then he said quietly, "Well, fellows, I —”
"No, no! That won't do for a sermon,” they cried. "You must begin with a text, your reverence.”
There was a moment's pause; again a swift upward glance, and the miner said in a low, earnest tone, "My text will be Christ's words to Saul of Tarsus: 'I am Jesus,' for during the last ten days those words have been always in my mind. You said, boys, that you wanted to know about the change in me, and I've been wanting to tell you what God has done for me. You may well say Fred Sharpe is the last man you would expect to see on the Lord's side. Two weeks ago I was cursing and swearing, and saying I didn't believe there was a God. Now, today, by His grace, I can say I know there is a God, and I know that He's my Father; I know there is a Savior, and that He has saved me; I know there is a Holy Spirit, and that He is willing to teach and enlighten me.”
By this time the little group of miners had gradually drawn nearer to the speaker, listening in amazement to their fellow-work-man as he continued: "Boys, do you say, `How did all this happen?' Well, I can scarcely tell you; but do you remember how Saul was changed into the Apostle Paul? Do you remember how he suddenly heard a voice speaking from heaven? Well, fellows, it was like that with me. I was journeying fast on the wrong road; I'd had warnings and kind words from my friends, but I wouldn't listen to them. Then God spoke to me!
"You have heard, maybe, that on last Wednesday I missed the last train from town. For a wonder I was quite sober; it was a pitch-black night, and I had to walk that nine miles back. You know how bad the road is, and a bad time I had of it to find my way. In the bitter cold and snow I thought I'd never get through.
"Suddenly there flashed into my mind a few words my old mother—bless her!—once said to me, something about two roads, and the one that led to God being lighted by His presence. Then all at once came the thought, 'Fred, you are certainly not on that; your life won't bear God's light on it,' and then, boys, I shall never forget how I seemed to see before me all my sins. As I stumbled along in the dark, my whole past life seemed spread out before me, and I couldn't bear the sight. For hours I stumbled on. Once or twice I cried out yes, and the words came from my very soul—`Lord, it's true, all true, but Oh, Lord, save me!'
"I don't know how time passed, but suddenly I seemed to be a little boy again, standing at my mother's knee; and to hear her teaching me to say, 'Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.' And I, who had cursed His name and persecuted His people, heard Him saying unto me: 'I am Jesus whom thou persecutest.' And with those words light came into my soul. Ah, and I was rescued, too, as you know, and brought home.”
Not one of Fred's congregation moved or spoke; the falling of the burning coals in the fire basket was the only sound heard as he continued earnestly: "And now, boys, you know I'm no preacher. I would I were, if I could reach your hearts, and just compel you to come to this wonderful Savior. He's standing by your side, and He says, 'I am Jesus,' and Jesus means Savior. Oh, boys, you know what I've been, and yet He has saved me, as He did the persecutor Saul; and I tell you, He longs to do the same for you. Oh, won't you let Him?”
The sermon was done. There was a hush as the miner stopped speaking; he buried his face in his hands and prayed earnestly, then quietly slipped down from his block pulpit. As he did so, one of the men went up to him, saying: "You said, 'Won't you let the Lord Jesus save you, as He has done me?' and I want to say before them all, 'I will.' That is, if He will have the likes of me.”
"He said, 'Him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out,' " answered Fred, warmly grasping his friend's hand. "You've got His word to depend on.”
Before six months had passed Fred knew that, through God's blessing on his words that afternoon, three of his companions were happily serving and following Christ.