THE OATH

Few books have shown me who I really am like this book. And though I couldn’t see it, I knew it was there, I could feel it…the black slime, the black tar, snaking down from my heart to my waist, oozing and staining everything I touch and I’m putting on. I know it’s there. I can’t see it, but I know. With a stench a thousand Arabian scent can’t douse. Wretched and miserable man that I am! Who will rescue me and set me free from this body of death, this corrupt, moral existence?

I also feel the pain. In bouts and waves. I touch my heart and it stings! It keeps me up at night. I may try to ignore it, but it lingers. Pain worse than just breaking a tibia and fibula…worse than breaking every bone in my body. This is good!..this pain evident by the black tar. ‘You keep hurting! Don’t let me forget about you.’ This is hope. When I stop caring, I forget about you. When I forget about you, I start dying.

I have a copy of this book and can loan it to someone who will be faithful (i.e take care of it and return it).

“May I never get over the fact that God saved a WRETCHED sinner like me. May I never get over the fact that He allowed me to see another day. May I never get over the fact that He’s patient with me, that He’s long-suffering with me, and that in me dwells NOTHING that can satisfy Him. May I never get over being broken over my sin. May I never, ever become complacent. May I never stop realizing the INCREDIBLE DISTANCE between me and my Jesus because that’s the only way I appreciate the distance He traveled to make me His child.” – Voddie Baucham.