Category Archives: Teaching Illustrations

Youth Illustrations: Ken’s favorite Quotes, Anecdotes, Real-Life Events, Modern Parables, Sermon Illustrations, Jokes, Humor and other stories to add a little punch to your Bible Studies, Sermons, Youth Ministry talks and Children’s sermons.

Easter Eggs

easter_egg3.jpgBackground of the Easter Egg

Of all the symbols associated with Easter the egg, the symbol of fertility and new life, is the most identifiable. The customs and traditions of using eggs have been associated with Easter for centuries.

Originally Easter eggs were painted with bright colors to represent the sunlight of spring and were used in Easter egg rolling contests or given as gifts.

After they were colored and etched with various designs the eggs were exchanged by lovers and romantic admirers, much the same as valentines.

In medieval time eggs were traditionally given at Easter to the servants. In Germany eggs were given to children along with other Easter gifts

Different cultures have developed their own ways of decorating Easter eggs. Crimson eggs, to honor the blood of Christ, are exchanged in Greece. In parts of Germany and Austria green eggs are used on Maundy Thursday (Holy Thursday). Slavic peoples decorate their eggs in special patterns of gold and silver. Austrian artists design patterns by fastening ferns and tiny plants around the eggs, which are then boiled. The plants are then removed revealing a striking white pattern. The Poles and Ukrainians decorate eggs with simple designs and colors. A number of eggs are made in the distinctive manner called pysanki. Pysanki eggs are a masterpiece of skill and workmanship. Melted beeswax is applied to the fresh white egg. It is then dipped in successive baths of dye. After each dip wax is painted over the area where the preceding color is to remain. Eventually a complex pattern of lines and colors emerges into a work of art.

In Germany and other countries eggs used for cooking were not broken, but the contents were removed by piercing the end of each egg with a needle and blowing the contents into a bowl. The hollow eggs were died and hung from shrubs and trees during the Easter Week. The Armenians would decorate hollow eggs with pictures of Christ, the Virgin Mary, and other religious designs.

The Romans celebrated the Easter season by running races on an oval track and giving eggs as prizes.

In many places, on Easter morning the children of the house join in a search to locate the eggs that the mythical Easter Bunny has hidden while they were asleep. The searching might continue though out the house with the older children helping the youngest. Sometimes prizes of candy are awaiting the child finding the most eggs

Others have an “Easter Egg Roll.” The rules of an Easter Egg Roll are to see who can roll an egg the greatest distance or can make the egg roll without breaking it, usually down a grassy hillside or slope.

Source: unknown

 

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Tale of Three Trees

easter_tree.jpg

A traditional American Folktale

Long ago in the far away land of Palestine, three trees stood on a hillside overlooking a seaport town.

Each three had great hopes and dreams of what it would be when fully grown. The first tree boasted that it’s lumber would be used to make a great and beautiful treasure chest. The chest would be decorated with bright golden hinges and polished to a fine and shiny finish. Inside it would hold great riches, jewels which were the colors of the rainbow and gold and silver coins.

The second tree claimed that it would be fashioned into a fine sailing ship. The ship would sail the high seas and travel to far and exotic places. The passengers would be kings and soldiers and statesmen who would marvel at the beauty of such a wonderful ship and the smooth and safe voyages it gave them.

The third tree declared that it would not be cut down and used by man for any of his needs. This tree would be left standing because of its beauty and strength. People would look at the reach of this tree’s branches and would think of God and all His glory as they gazed upward to the sky.

Then one day three men with axes came to the hill where the trees stood tall and full. As each tree stood in anticipation of their fate, the first man approached the first tree. He examined it and decided it was a good tree for his uses and so he cut it down. The second man looked at the second tree and assessing its sturdiness and good quality proceeded to chop it down. The third man stood looking at the third tree who reached its branches ever upward, hoping he would leave the tree alone to live its days on that hill. However, the third man judged the tree to be perfect for his needs, and cut it down.

Now the first tree that had dreamed of being a beautiful treasure chest was instead made into a manger. It was sold to a farmer who used it in his cave where he kept and fed his animals. From this manger the animals of the farm ate the hay that lay in it. Until one night a young woman and her husband came to the cave looking for shelter for themselves and their newborn baby. In that manger, they laid their infant son. It was at that moment that the tree knew that it held the greatest treasure in the world, God’s gift to mankind. And as the child lay sleeping in the manger, the angels sang and the stars shown brightly in the sky.

Sometime later, the second tree was made into a small fishing boat. Its dreams of becoming a great sailing ship were gone. Now it carried fishermen and the quantities of fish that they caught each day from a small sea. Suddenly a great storm arose and waves rocked the boat back and forth as it tried to steady itself to keep from being wrecked. The man who led the others had no fear. He admonished His friends for being frightened and having so little faith. Then He stood in the boat and raised his hand saying, “Peace.” As suddenly as the storm had come up, it went away and all was calm around them. At that moment the second tree knew that it carried a man greater than any worldly king, soldier or statesman and that it sailed a greater adventure than it could ever have dreamed of.

The third tree spent many years in a lumber yard until one Friday morning it was yanked out of the pile of lumber it had lain in. It was made into a crucifix and put on the shoulders of a tired man who had been badly beaten. The man was forced to carry the crucifix to a mountain top and there it was planted into the ground. The man was then put upon the cross and his hands and feet were nailed to it. The tree shuddered with fear and sorrow as it felt the man’s pain. The tree was filled with shame at what it had become a part of. Then as the man died upon the cross a great storm descended from heaven and the earth shook. At that moment the tree felt the power of God radiating through it.

Two days later, on Sunday morning the sun rose and joy and warmth filled the air as God’s love changed all that had gone before.

God’s love made the first tree beautiful.
It made the second tree strong.
And each time people looked upon the third tree they thought of God.

 

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Keep Your Fork

fork.jpgThere was a woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. As she was getting things “in order,” she contacted her pastor for him to come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in. The woman also requested to be buried with her favorite Bible.

Everything was done and the pastor was leaving when the woman suddenly exclaimed, “There’s one more thing,” The pastor asked, “What’s that?” As he turned, he saw that she had left the living room and was in the kitchen. He heard her rummaging around as she called, “This is…” she came back in to the living room,…“very important.” with a fork in her right hand!

“I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand.” she proclaimed. All the pastor could say was a slow, “Well…” “That surprises you, doesn’t it?” the woman asked, smiling. “Does it show?” the pastor asked. She nodded. The pastor said, “Well, it does seem strange.”

The woman explained. “In all my years of attending church social and potluck dinners, I always remember when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, ‘keep your fork.’ It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming…like velvety chocolate cake or deep dish
apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!”

The lady said, “I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder, ‘What’s with the fork?’ Then I want you to tell them, ‘Keep your fork…The best is yet to come.”’

The pastor’s eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged her good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She KNEW that something better was coming.

At the funeral people were walking by the woman’s casket and they saw the pretty dress she was wearing and her favorite Bible and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the pastor heard the question, “What’s with the fork?”

And he just smiled. During his message, he told the people of the conversation he had with the woman shortly before she died and what the fork symbolized to her. The pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either. So the next time you reach down for your fork, let it gently remind you that the best is yet to come…

Source:Unknown

 

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The Carpenter

dramashare.jpgMonologue about the builder of the cross on which Jesus was crucified. Can be used at any time of year, including Easter. Based on the ideas in a script written by Kate Rothacker.

“This script is made available through a special arrangement with Dramashare. If you are looking for free scripts for VBS, summer camps, youth meetings, mime, Children’s sermons, puppetry, clowning, human video, choral reading, interpretive movement, or a sermon starter, then DramaShare is one of the best Drama Ministry resources I have ever found. It is the world’s most visited Christian drama ministry web site. Purchase an annual membership to DramaShare ministry at the link http://dramashare.org/item.php?id=2959 to get free access to over 1,500 royalty free scripts on-line.” -Ken


Staging Information

Keywords

cross, carpenter, remorse

Cast

Monologue, likely male

Costumes

either traditional or contemporary

Sound and Lighting

Mic for actor
a tight spot on the actor would be useful, with the balance of the acting area in shadow.

Props

a few very large nails and a carpenter’s belt, hammer

Run Time – (approx)

5 minutes


Script



Actor comes on stage, looks down at mimed cross upstage, speaks

It is finished! My work completed. I delivered as was contracted, six stout cross beams, strong enough to hold the weight of a full grown dying man.
I’m always pleased to see a job completed. Pleased with the feeling of accomplishment. And also with the financial rewards as well, no reason to deny that.
I am a carpenter, . . . a fine carpenter, like my father . .and his father before him. A carpenter, an honorable profession.
I have made the things that the people of Jerusalem take for granted. Things on which they sit, or lie, or eat, . . . . . . sometimes those on which they die.
Once delivered I no longer think of these articles, or the people who pay me handsomely for supplying them. Should I worry about the thoughts or character of the one seated on the chair I have made? Should I lay awake wondering if the meals served on my tables tonight were healthy and nourishing?
The very thought is preposterous.
Well, I do admit to some discomfort when first the Roman guard gave me this task, but honestly more than I chaffed at this work, I chaffed at having to perform services for the Romans. Overbearing fools! And at any rate, the crimes committed by those who will die on these works of art were done in full knowledge that retribution would be swiftly and painfully accomplished. And further, Roman gold buys food as well as any other gold!

looks over shoulder, upstage

Yet when I saw my handiwork on hillside of Golgotha, great chills ran throughout my body.

moves downstage as though begging audience to understand

What have I done?
What have I done?

more confident

Look, it is surely nothing to be ashamed of. I did my job, nothing more, nothing less. I did as I was expected, and I did it well.

less self-assured

Why, then, is it strangely different this time? I see the three in the holding pen there, that they deserve their fate I have no doubt. That one, Elishua, one of the most feared robbers in the nation. No highway was safe by night or day with the likes of him about. Yet I heard he had some miraculous conversion when the prisoner yonder entered Jerusalem some days ago. In fact, I’ve heard it was the letting down of his guard that allowed the Romans to capture Elishua.
Nonetheless, who am I to judge whether the crimes of these men were sufficient to merit death on the cross? That weighty matter is Pilate’s domain. My role is simply to find a strong tree out of which to fashion the beams, which will bear the broken bodies high that all might see the shame of sin.

quieter
They say that the Nazarene was also a carpenter. A man like me. Could that be why my soul seems ill at ease?

annoyed

I could not know that. For all I know dozens of carpenters have found cruel support from the work of my hands… (holds hands up, looking at them closely) My hands. . . I have used these hands, as likely he used his, to make something useful out of nothing. These hands of mine have given new life to that which was dead, an ugly, useless old log became a stool on which a mother could sit with her child. These hands have shaped and molded old pieces of wood until they became utilitarian tools, even works of art, in use and on display in homes throughout the area. With these hands, many times I have cut and hammered. My hands, a hammer and a handful of nails fashion great works.
. . . hammer.
. . . . .and a handful of nails.
They hammer a nail through the hands of the crucified, you know. And the feet!

(throws nails to the floor, loudly, begins pacing)
But what was I to do? Was it not their choice to commit their crimes? I did not place any man upon the cross; it is their offense, not mine, which hangs them there.
And yet, in how many ways we are alike!
We worked the same trade, he and I, but I go on with my craft while he hangs on my cross.
I don’t know who this man was. I have no way of knowing what he did to receive this punishment. But this I know; I can no longer continue my trade.
I will inform the Romans immediately they can find somebody else to make these cruel instruments of death.
I did that which I had contracted for . . . and now. . . ., my work . . .it. . . . is . . . .finished.

actor off stage


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The Rich Family in Church

I’ll never forget Easter 1946. I was 14, my little sister Ocy was 12,and my older sister Darlene 16. We lived at home with our mother, and the four of us knew what it was to do without many things. My dad had died five years before, leaving Mom with seven school kids to raise and no money.

By 1946 my older sisters were married and my brothers had left home. A month before Easter the pastor of our church announced that a special Easter offering would be taken to help a poor family. He asked everyone to save and give sacrificially.

When we got home, we talked about what we could do. We decided to buy 50 pounds of potatoes and live on them for a month. This would allow us to save $20 of our grocery money for the offering. When we thought that if we kept our electric lights turned out as much as possible and didn’t listen to the radio, we’d save money on that month’s electric bill. Darlene got as many house and yard cleaning jobs as possible, and both of us babysat for everyone we could. For 15 cents we could buy enough cotton loops to make three pot holders to sell for $1.

We made $20 on pot holders. That month was one of the best of our lives.

Every day we counted the money to see how much we had saved. At night we’d sit in the dark and talk about how the poor family was going to enjoy having the money the church would give them. We had about 80 people in church, so figured that whatever amount of money we had to give, the offering would surely be 20 times that much. After all, every Sunday the pastor had reminded everyone to
save for the sacrificial offering.

The day before Easter, Ocy and I walked to the grocery store and got the manager to give us three crisp $20 bills and one $10 bill for all our change.

We ran all the way home to show Mom and Darlene. We had never had so much money before.

That night we were so excited we could hardly sleep. We didn’t care that we wouldn’t have new clothes for Easter; we had $70 for the sacrificial offering.

We could hardly wait to get to church! On Sunday morning, rain was pouring. We didn’t own an umbrella, and the church was over a mile from our home, but it didn’t seem to matter how wet we got. Darlene had cardboard in her shoes to fill the holes. The cardboard came apart, and her feet got wet.

But we sat in church proudly. I heard some teenagers talking about the Smith girls having on their old dresses. I looked at them in their new clothes, and I felt rich.

When the sacrificial offering was taken, we were sitting on the second row from the front. Mom put in the $10 bill, and each of us kids put in a $20.

As we walked home after church, we sang all the way. At lunch Mom had a surprise for us. She had bought a dozen eggs, and we had boiled Easter eggs with our fried potatoes! Late that afternoon the minister drove up in his car. Mom went to the door, talked with him for a moment, and then came back with an envelope in her hand. We asked what it was, but she didn’t say a word. She opened the envelope and out fell a bunch of money. There were three crisp $20 bills, one $10 and seventeen $1 bills.

Mom put the money back in the envelope. We didn’t talk, just sat and stared at the floor. We had gone from feeling like millionaires to feeling like poor white trash. We kids had such a happy life that we felt sorry for anyone who didn’t have our Mom and Dad for parents and a house full of brothers and sisters and other kids visiting constantly. We thought it was fun to share silverware and see whether we got the spoon or the fork that night.

We had two knifes that we passed around to whoever needed them. I knew we didn’t have a lot of things that other people had, but I’d never thought we were poor.

That Easter day I found out we were. The minister had brought us the money for the poor family, so we must be poor. I didn’t like being poor. I looked at my dress and worn-out shoes and felt so ashamed–I didn’t even want to go back to church. Everyone there probably already knew we were poor!

I thought about school. I was in the ninth grade and at the top of my class of over 100 students. I wondered if the kids at school knew that we were poor. I decided that I could quit school since I had finished the eighth grade. That was all the law required at that time. We sat in silence for a long time. Then it got dark, and we went to bed. All that week, we girls went to school and came home, and no one talked much. Finally on Saturday, Mom asked us what we wanted to do with the money. What did poor people do with money? We didn’t know. We’d never known we were poor. We didn’t want to go to church on Sunday, but Mom said we had to. Although it was a sunny day, we didn’t talk on the way.

Mom started to sing, but no one joined in and she only sang one verse. At church we had a missionary speaker. He talked about how churches in Africa made buildings out of sun dried bricks, but they needed money to buy roofs. He said $100 would put a roof on a church. The minister said, “Can’t we all sacrifice to help these poor people?” We looked at each other and smiled for the first time in a week.

Mom reached into her purse and pulled out the envelope. She passed it to Darlene. Darlene gave it to me, and I handed it to Ocy. Ocy put it in the offering.

When the offering was counted, the minister announced that it was a little over $100. The missionary was excited. He hadn’t expected such a large offering from our small church. He said, “You must have some rich people in this church.”

Suddenly it struck us! We had given $87 of that “little over $100.”

We were the rich family in the church! Hadn’t the missionary said so? From that day on I’ve never been poor again. I’ve always remembered how rich I am because I have Jesus!

Author: Eddie Ogan
Source: Unknown

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On the Physical Death of Jesus Christ

crucifixion.jpgOriginally printed in the Journal of the American Medical Association (JAMA) this is a medically and historically accurate account of the physical death of Jesus Christ. It contains illustrations and walks through the events of the crucifixion from a medical perspective. Don’t miss it!

Click here to download the adobe acrobat PDF file [1.25 megabytes in size] from the website

Source:
“On the Physical Death of Jesus Christ”
William D. Edwards, MD; Wesley J. Gabel, MDiv; Floyd E Hosmer, MS, AMI
Reprinted from JAMA – The Journal of the American Medical Association
March 21, 1986, Volume 256
Copyright 1986, American Medical Association

If you don’t have Adobe Acrobat Reader, you can get it for free from here:
Download Acrobat reader

 

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Empty Chair, The

chair2.jpgA man’s daughter had asked the local pastor to come and pray with her father. When the pastor arrived, he found the man lying in bed with his head propped up on two pillows and an empty chair beside his bed. The priest assumed that the old fellow had been informed of his visit. “I guess you were expecting me,” he said.

“No, who are you?”

“I’m the new associate at your local church,” the pastor replied. “When I saw the empty chair, I figured you knew I was going to show up.”

“Oh yeah, the chair,” said the bedridden man. “Would you mind closing the door?”

Puzzled, the pastor shut the door.

“I’ve never told anyone this, not even my daughter,” said the man. “But all of my life I have never known how to pray. At church I used to hear the pastor talk about prayer, but it always went right over my head..”

“I abandoned any attempt at prayer,” the old man continued, “until one day about four years ago my best friend said to me, ‘Joe, prayer is just a simple matter of having a conversation with Jesus. Here’s what I suggest. Sit down on a chair, place an empty chair in front of you, and in faith see Jesus on the chair. It’s not spooky because he promised, ‘I’ll be with you always.’ Then just speak to him and listen in the same way you’re doing with me right now.”

“So, I tried it and I’ve liked it so much that I do it a couple of hours every day. I’m careful, though. If my daughter saw me talking to an empty chair, she’d either have a nervous breakdown or send me off to the funny farm.”

The pastor was deeply moved by the story and encouraged the old guy to continue on the journey. Then he prayed with him, and returned to the church.

Two nights later the daughter called to tell the pastor that her daddy had died that afternoon.

“Did he seem to die in peace?” he asked.

“Yes, when I left the house around two o’clock, he called me over to his bedside, told me one of his corny jokes, and kissed me on the cheek. When I got back from the store an hour later, I found him dead. But there was something strange, In fact, beyond strange–kinda weird. Apparently, just before Daddy died, he leaned over and rested his head on a chair beside the bed.”

Author: Unknown
Source: Unknown


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Twas the Night Before Easter

Twas the day before Easter and all through the woods,
The bunnies were busy packing their goods.

The eggs were all colored so pretty and bright,
All things were “go” for the big, special night.

The baskets were waiting, all decorated with care,
In hopes that the Bunny soon would be there.

My little brother Sam was asleep in his bed,
While visions of Easter eggs rolled round his head.

And I in my pajamas with the cat on my lap,
I had just settled down for a quick little nap.

When outside the window I heard a great noise,
I sprang from my chair and jumped over some toys.

As quick as a flash to the window I flew,
I pulled up the shade and, OH, what a view.

The moon on the meadow cast a bright golden glow
And the wind blew the flowers to and then fro.

Then all of a sudden from out of nowhere,
Came some lively bunnies, hopping here, hopping there!

Leading the group with ears long and funny
Was a plump all-white rabbit…
That’s right…the EASTER BUNNY!

The bunnies hopped past, one, two , three, four,
The rabbit called out and then there were more.

“Come Peter! Come, Flopsy! Come, Benny! Come, Joe!
Now hop along! Hop along! Hop along! GO!”

So up on each doorstep the bunnies did hop,
With baskets of eggs. (Let’s hope they don’t drop)!

Just at that moment, on the porch down below,
Came the stomping of feet ‘Twas the rabbit I know!

As I stepped from my window I heard a loud sound.
Through the door came the rabbit with a leap and a bound.

He was furry and soft from his head to his feet.
To see him so close was really quite neat.

He was surrounded by eggs that had been carefully dyed.
Easter eggs galore he soon would hide.

His eyes were all twinkles, His nose was so pink,
And I can’t be too sure but I think he did wink.

He had a kind face and a big fluffy tail
That bobbed up and down like a boat with a sail.

A twitch of his nose and a flick of his ear
Was his way of saying “You’ve nothing to fear.”

He uttered no sound as he hopped all about,
Hiding the eggs and leaving no doubt,

That the Easter Bunny had come like he does every year…
Bringing baskets of happiness to children so dear.

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Take Off the Grave Clothes

alarmclock2.jpg
Her name was Carol. She was the organist at her church. She was an outstanding musician, but she did something no organist should ever do. She overslept on Easter morning and missed the sunrise service. She was so embarrassed. Of course, the minister and the church forgave her. They teased her about it a little, but it was done lovingly and in good fun.

However, the next Easter, her phone rang at 5:O0 in the morning. Jolted awake by the loud ringing, she scrambled to answer it. It was the minister, and he said, “Carol, its Easter morning The Lord is risen! . . . And I suggest you do the same!”

The message is clear: We too can be resurrected. Christ shares his resurrection with us. He rises, and so can we. We too can have new life. We too can make a new start. We too can rise out of those tombs that try to imprison us!

Source: James W. Moore, Some Things Are Too Good Not To Be True, Dimensions, 1994, p. 74.

 

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Games and Activities in celebration of Easter.

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What if

What if,
GOD couldn’t take the time to bless us today because
we couldn’t take the time to thank Him yesterday?

What if,
GOD decided to stop leading us tomorrow because
we didn’t follow Him today?

What if,
we never saw another flower bloom because
we grumbled when GOD sent the rain?

What if,
GOD didn’t walk with us today because
we failed to recognize it as His day?

What if,
GOD took away the Bible tomorrow because
we would not read it today?

What if,
GOD took away His message because
we failed to listen to the messenger?

What if,
GOD didn’t send His only begotten Son because
He wanted us to be prepared to pay the price for sin.

What if,
the door of the church was closed because
we did not open the door of our heart?

What if,
GOD stopped loving and caring for us because
we failed to love and care for others?

What if,
GOD would not hear us today because
we would not listen to Him yesterday?

What if,
GOD answered our prayers the way
we answer His call to service?

What if,
GOD met our needs the way
we give Him our lives???


MORE IDEAS? See “Creative Object Lessons”

200 page e-book that explains everything you need to know when planning your very own object lessons. It contains 90 fully developed object lesson ideas and another 200 object lesson starter ideas based on Biblical idioms and Names / Descriptions of God.

Learn More…