When I was preaching in Baltimore in 1879, an infidel reporter, who believed I was a humbug, came to the meetings with the express purpose of catching me in my remarks. He believed that my stories and anecdotes were all made up, and he intended to expose me in his paper.
One of the anecdotes I told was as follows:
A gentleman was walking down the streets of a city some time ago. It was near Christmas time, and many of the shop windows were filled with Christmas presents and toys. As this gentleman passed along, he saw three little girls standing before a shop window. Two of them were trying to describe to the third the things that were in the window. It aroused his attention, and he wondered what it could mean. He went back, and found that the middle one was blind — she had never been able to see — and her two sisters were trying to tell her how the things looked. The gentleman stood beside them for some time and listened; he said it was most interesting to hear them trying to describe the different articles to the blind child — they found it a difficult task.
“That is just my position in trying to tell other men about Christ,” I said, “I may talk about Him, and yet they see no beauty in Him that they should desire Him. But if they will only come to Him, He will open their eyes and reveal Himself to them in all His loveliness and grace.”
After the meeting this reporter came to me and asked where I got that story. I said I had read it in a Boston paper. He told me that it had happened right there in the streets of Baltimore, and that he was the gentleman referred to! It made such an impression on him that he accepted Christ and became one of the first converts in that city.
Many times I have found that when the sermon — and even the text — has been forgotten, some story has fastened itself in a hearer’s mind and has borne fruit. Anecdotes are like windows to let light shine on a subject. They have a useful ministry, and I pray God to bless this collection to every reader.
D. L. Moody