Day 1
at camp: I began to cry. And I could not stop crying. I had been given an unexpected and undeserved gift, the knowledge of my sin . At nine years old, it gripped me, scared me, and would not let me go. I lay there crying and knew I needed to pray. Why? Because I had been given another gift: the knowledge of a ready, willing, and capable Savior . I had been blessed with the awareness of his offer of forgiveness to all who confess their sin and by faith seek his forgiveness. In my tears, I had no idea how blessed I was. I had no idea of the horrible deceitfulness of sin. I had no idea of the natural self-righteousness that is in the heart of every sinner. I had no idea that most people have no idea how dark their condition actually is. I had no idea how skilled we sinners are at giving self- atoning arguments for what we have said and done, in an attempt to remove any real guilt for sin. I had no idea that I had been chosen and was being called to no longer be a cultural Christian, but a true child of God. I had no idea that the only thing in life more important than the knowledge of sin is the knowledge of the Savior’s grace. And I had been given both. I had no idea that I had to experience the terrifying knowledge of sin, or I would never seek the Savior’s forgiving grace. What I did know was that I needed to pray. I needed to confess my sin and cry out for God’s forgiveness. And I knew I needed to do it right there and then. But in my nine-year-old mind I thought it was disrespectful to pray such a significant prayer lying down. So I crawled out of my bunk and down the ladder as quietly as I could. I knelt in the middle of the stone floor and confessed my sin and placed my little-boy trust in the forgiving
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