By Allan C. Oggs Sr.
When the battle was all over, there were folk lying dead on every curb, and cluttered in every alley. Every house was smeared with blood.
There was one man, however, who was saved alive, and his name was Agag. He was not just common folk, but he was a king, the ruler of a people called the Amalekites. His eyes were still blinking, and there was something beating real strong in his bosom. He was not dead, in fact he was very much alive. Everyone else was destroyed.
Seldom does a person come to God who has not, in some way, been exposed to our message, or the Pentecostal way of life. Not often do we meet a total stranger on our pews. Nearly always they have a relative, a friend, or a neighbor, or there is someone around whom they have noticed and have become acquainted with.
Usually before we come to God the first time we have already begun to consider, and compare our lives with, the lives of persons we know who have the Holy Ghost. It is obvious that if the next-door neighbors had the Holy Ghost, there were some things that they did not do, and some places they did not go. There was a definite difference in the way they lived.
Because of this, usually when we made our move toward God, we already had a pretty good idea that there were some things we would have to do if we were going to receive the Pentecostal experience. It is obvious that Pentecostals do not smoke, do not curse and do not indulge in sinful pleasure. It is understood that if we are gong to have what they have, there are some changes we’re going to have to make. Usually we are willing and eager to make changes when it comes to dealing with some peasant sins in our lives. You know, the weak little things that we recognize which are not a great threat, and don’t represent a grave danger. Most times we are happy to kick over the peddler on the corner and to manhandle somebody weaker by far than we are. It has always been easy for me to fight if there was one of the enemy, and three or four of us. I always enjoyed that kind of a battle. It is easy to handle the weak things in our lives. But I would like to point out to you the major opponent to all the victories you are to have. This is the sin in your life. It is not a peasant, but a king. This sin wears the golden crown.
Inventories have always been used when we come to God. I am preaching about the sin that is hidden away somewhere on the shelves of your life. You begin to take your inventory, and you say, “I won’t do this, and I won’t do that, and forgive me for this, and I won’t go there anymore.” Down the list you go easily, with smooth sailing, when all of a sudden, somewhere down the list you say, “God, I’ll never do that again; forgive me.” The moment you say it, you realize you have a different kind of a battle on your hands. All of a sudden you meet with resistance, and you realize this sin is not going to roll over and play dead, but it’s going to be something different to deal with.
This is the sin that wears the golden crown. Paul said it would be the one that would be the weight that could easily beset you, the one that could pin your ears to the wall like no other sin could. Usually, it narrows down to one. All the victory you ever hope to have is quite often kept from you by this cloud of resistance. It is the sin that wears the golden crown.
I was born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana, and they have in that city a holiday called Mardi Gras. Mardi Gras is French, meaning “fat Tuesday.” It means that quite a number of Catholic people go out on fat Tuesday and get fat (so to speak). They fill themselves full with pleasure, food, and sin. They have what they call a real good time, because this is the last day before their Holy Season. Fat Tuesday is the day before Ash Wednesday. Ash Wednesday starts the season of sacrifice.
Mardi Gras is also called the day of misrule. There is no ruling anywhere. You can get away with almost anything except sniping. Nearly everything else goes. It’s fat Tuesday; have a good time Tuesday.
At midnight Tuesday, all these folk, and few of them sober, will go to their church. I sat in my car one night and watched them, by the hundreds, going to church. It’s a sad, pathetic sight. Some of these people are helped up the steps into the church, and they are helped down the steps to go home. Here they start off the Holy Season. They all go down to the front, ashes are put on their foreheads and they make pledges, or promises to their church. Then they promise their priest and their God that from Ash Wednesday until Easter they will fast, or abstain from different things.
In my school years, I always looked forward to talking to my Catholic friends. They came to school, faces all smeared with ashes, and they wouldn’t wash them off. They would wash all around the ashes, but they wouldn’t think of washing off their humility.
One young man I always looked forward to seeing was Harry. Harry was a very creative fellow, and had lots of imagination. I said to him one Wednesday, “Harry, I can tell by the ashes on your forehead that you have been to church.” (I’m sure there are thousands of folk that are sincere in what they are doing.) I said to Harry, “I can tell that you have made your pledge and your promise to your God. You are beginning your fasting season. You are going to sacrifice, and really lay down your old ways and get close to God. Harry, will you tell me what you gave up for Lent this year.”
He looked at me, then he looked over both of his shoulders, and said confidentially, “Allan, I have promised the church and I have promised the pastor that I will not eat any popcorn from now until Easter.”
I said, “Man how in the world could you go that long without eating any popcorn? For you to make that kind of a sacrifice, surely you must eat a lot of popcorn. You must really like popcorn to give it up for Lent.”
He said, “Well, to be honest with you, I can’t stand popcorn. I don’t like it!”
You see, it is easy to set something down that you are not very fond of. But I am preaching about some sin that you really love. In fact, you are so attached to it that, up to now, it has robbed you of victory. It has hindered you from being filled with the Holy Ghost. It has always kept you a great distance from the prayer life you wanted.
In the context of my message, Samuel came to Saul and said, “Saul, I’m bringing you a message from God. Whatever you do, be alert, attentive, and understand what I have to say.”
I’ve always admired the approach that Samuel used. He paused long enough to gather some background material for his message. He began by asking Saul if he remembered that several hundred years before, when their forefathers had just left Egypt, how thrilled they were, and how unprepared for war. He asked, “Do you remember how, before we trained our troops and had ever mobilized for battle, while we were still dancing and singing our way to the Promise Land,
there was a wild band of warriors, the Amalekites, that declared war on our fathers? They attacked our troops and showed no mercy, until it looked as though we would lose everything we had. The ground became sticky with blood, and the valley began to echo from hill to hill with the sounds of death.” By now, Saul’s patriotism and love for his people made his blood run hot. He said, “I remember. It was that time when Moses lifted his hands, that Israel prevailed, and when his arms fell to his side, the enemy made giant steps into our people.”
Samuel said, “That’s right. It all took place over four hundred years ago. You recall that when the battle was over, the Lord told leaders of the Israelites to walk around the battleground and look at those dead, to listen to the weeping and the sobbing of the young widows, to look into the puzzled faces of children that had just lost their dads, and to write it all down in a book.” God said, “Do all this for a memorial, for someday I the Lord will avenge this blood. The score will be settled. It might not be next week, or it might not be next month, but sooner or later the blood spilled in this battle will be avenged. The Lord will avenge the cruelty and the slaughter that took place here on the sandy floor of this desert.”
Saul’s chest began to expand, and his eyes were flaming with anger. “Certainly, I remember.” Then he said, no doubt, what he would have done, had he been there.
Samuel said, “Saul, you are there. There’s a group of people down below. They are ruled by a man called Agag. These people are the descendants of Amalek, and are known as Amalekites. It may have been four hundred years, Saul, but now, according to God’s schedule, it’s time to avenge the blood spilled way back there.
Sin is never unnoticed. It may not be tomorrow or the next day or the next week, but sooner or later, sin always pays off. Be not deceived. And whatever you do, don’t laugh at God. You may get by this week, but that’s no reason to giggle. You may get by for thirty days, but that’s no reason to snicker, for sooner or later you will receive your just recompense of reward.
Samuel said, “Saul I want you to go and finish this four-hundred year war. Go and kill everything. The young, the old, the suckling, the ass, the oxen, the sheep—everything must die. I want you to quiet the soundings in the chest of every human being. Kill even the cattle, the livestock, and every four-footed beast. Send men to run them down and spill their blood until everything there is stilled in death.”
I don’t know. Maybe the orders were so unusual that Saul asked for clarification. “You mean to tell me to kill even babies that are being snuggled close to the bodies of their mothers? To take the life of a baby boy or a baby girl?”
Samuel said, “This is God’s will. Everything must die.”
Finally when Saul understood the instructions, he took about two hundred and ten thousand men. There are little things in the Scripture that thrill me. Four hundred years before, Amalek lay in wait, and attacked the Israelites. Now several hundred years later we find Saul yonder lying in wait in the bush. This was the same strategy used when the Israelites suffered so much, and now it was their day in court. Suddenly the signal was given, and two hundred and ten thousand men, with divine strategy directing their minds, their hearts pounding with excitement, made their move. I don’t know what their battle plans were, but I do know the city of the Amalekites began to crumble and fall. Every place the Israelites put their feet, they left their footprints in the shed blood of the enemy. They chased Amalekites up and down alleys and over roof tops, through vineyards and strongholds and shops downtown. In school buildings, and in every place they found Amalekites, they made them scream and struggle for life. Yes sir! The peddler on the corner was kicked over. Saul was leading a band of warriors on a unique and tremendous mission.
Somewhere in that city was a man named Agag. He was pacing back and forth on the floor. All the reconnaissance reports that came back to him brought only additional gloom. “It doesn’t look good over here!” Another runner would come to say that he alone lived to tell the story. For, you see, the swords of God were singing a song of victory. It just could have been that it came down to one last stronghold.
Saul stood there, his sword drenched with the blood of peasant folk. He had whittled smaller people down to nothing. Now he stood, his armor almost unscarred before the palace, and the king’s stronghold. He barged into the place where the king was, no doubt interested and prepared for a real battle.
Evidently Agag understood how to handle Saul; I don’t know how, but he did it. Maybe he approached Saul the way he later approached Samuel. (The Bible said he came before Samuel delicately.) Saul leaped in, ready, and prepared for battle, only to find a man with a crown on his head, pleading for his life. Perhaps he appealed to the ego of Saul. He could have told Saul how big he was and how strong he was. “Certainly you should be pleased with all the blood you’ve spilled, and all the killing you’ve done. Surely you can let me, just a king, live; you can show me mercy.” Whatever he did, he was able to turn the face of Saul away from the face of God. He was able to convince Saul to disobey God.
When the battle was over, they all went back to the city of Gilgal. The buglers were there, the trumpet players were poised and ready to blast their trumpets. Banners were waving. It was supposed to be a victorious celebration.
Instead of a victory celebration, Samuel met Saul, looked at him, and said, “Saul, what have you done? You’ve disobeyed God. There’s something making noises in the background. It’s the puppies of disobedience barking at your ankles. There’s something trailing you, Saul, What have you done?”
Saul said, “I’ve done nothing wrong.”
Samuel knew better, and he said, “Saul, because of your neglect and your disobedience, I want you to understand that God has rejected you as being king. God is turning his face away from you, today, Saul. He is withdrawing from you His smile. It’s all over for you, Saul. He is rejecting you today because you saved one man alive. He had a crown on his head. His name is Agag, and because he is alive, the Lord God Almighty is rejecting you as king.
Saul trembled and cried. He asked for a prayer meeting on the spot. It was too late to pray, for he was beyond that now.
It must be a horrible life to live, to know that you have been rejected of God; to think that when you look for God in a moment of danger or a season of trouble, all you see of Him is His hinder parts as He walks away and leaves you. When you feel your baby’s fevered brow, and pray, and there is no answer. God has rejected you! It must be a terrible feeling to be a man without God, to be a soul without spiritual contact, to have a burden, and there be no one to lift it. It would have to be a sad condition.
Saul was there. In fact, he became so desperate, and so eager and hungry for wisdom, and spiritual advice, that he went to a witch. Samuel was now dead. Saul said to the witch, “Call me up Samuel. I’m lonely, I’m ,afraid, I have to hear from God. I have to hear! Will you find Samuel somewhere, and bring him back from the dead? Bring me a message that can tell me something about God.” Oh! To be rejected by God!
Twenty-three long years passed, until one day in battle, Saul was in the midst of retreat. As he fled from I he battle, the enemy shot an arrow through the air. It found its mark, and Saul lay on the battlefield, bleeding. He looked at his armor bearer and asked him to take his life. The armor bearer said, “No, not me. I’m not going to touch you.” Then Saul took his own sword, put the end of it against his chest, and fell on it! Now he lay on the battlefield, his heart broken, his mind confused, his back bleeding with the puncture of an arrow, and in his own chest his own sword.
But according to the first chapter of Second Samuel, Saul was not dead yet. As he lay on the battlefield and looked over into the distance, he saw a young man walking by. He called, “Young fellow, come over here quick.” The young man walked over to where he was.
Saul said, “Tell me, who are you and what is your name? Where are you from?”
The young man looked at him, and said, “I’ll tell you who I am and you’ll recognize my name. I am an Amalekite.” Twenty-three years before, Saul was supposed to have destroyed all the Amalekites, and because he did not, twenty-three years later there was a young man saying, “Thank you for letting me live. I appreciate you allowing me to continue.” Then the Amalekite took Saul’s sword out of his chest, lifted it, and took his head off his shoulders.
What I’m saying is if you don’t conquer sin it will conquer you. If you don’t destroy it, it will destroy you. It will laugh in your face. It will tell you, “I’m the one you would not handle, and because you didn’t handle me, I’m going to destroy you.” It was the old chickens that came home to roost. It was the conclusion of a song that began years before. It came back to get him. It was the sin that wears the golden crown.
A certain man stood before a preacher. He had clapped his hands, when the church clapped theirs, he had spoken in tongues, no doubt. He had run the aisle in worship with the rest of them. But somewhere in his spiritual anatomy he had left something dangling way back there. It was the ability to use a falsehood at the “right” time, or for the “right” reason. Somehow, he allowed the spirit of a lie to linger in his life. Now he stood there before the preacher and told only one lie. To my knowledge this was his only guilt, his only fault. Ananias told one lie, and when he did, that one lie turned and strangled him. It was a sin he did not handle, and because he did not handle it, it, in turn, handled him.
“Oh, I’ve heard what You had to say. I’ve been in the crowd daily. I’ve not spoken to You much before now, but master, I’ve always been close by. I like what I hear, I like what I feel, I like the momentum I see building. And you see, Master, I have a lot of money and I have a lot of prestige. What I’d like to do is to get close by You. Would You please tell me what must I do to be one of. Your followers.”
Jesus looked at him and said, “Well, you’re going to have to keep the commandments.”
“There isn’t much trouble there. Ever since I was a Hittle fellow, I’ve always kept the commandments. I don’t kill, I do not steal, I even honor my mother and father. All my life I have lived according to the commandments.”
“Oh! That’s good. It sounds real good for you, young man. There is only one thing you lack. You’ve almost passed the test. In fact, there is only one more thing you need to do. Sell all you have and give to the poor. You need to spread it around. Bless some that have not been blessed.”
When Jesus asked the rich young ruler to do this, there was something on the inside of him that resisted. A sin yet set on the throne of his life, and wore a crown: the sin of greed and selfishness. It was the sin of a haughty and boasting spirit. Something on the inside said, “You had better not do away with me; we’ve been together too long. We’ve been together from holes in your shoes to a fine wardrobe. Whatever you do, you’d better not destroy me.” The pleading sin in his life talked him out of his victory, and he bowed his head and went away sorrowful. All you could say about the man was that he missed it by one. He was almost on the way, but for the sin that wore the crown, and it made him live a life of sorrow.
Demas had only one thought. Demas wasn’t out in the world, but he loved the world. The Bible said that Demas loved this present world. That’s all it took to bring Demas to a lonely ending—away from God, away from fellowship, away from the church. It was all because he loved this present world.
I don’t know who you are, but I wonder what it is in your life. You have battled, you have plowed past so many obstacles. What is the sin in your life that wears the golden crown? The sin that has taken from you the sweetness in your life, and given to you nothing but the sourness, and a future without hope? What is the sin that wears the crown in your life? It may be a habit. I have met folk that felt they had won victory over everything. But they just could not win victory over cigarettes, liquor or drugs. I wonder if it might be a lingering habit, something that has been your bed partner for so long. You can’t kick it out of your bed. It’s there laughing at you. I want you to know, if you don’t destroy it, it will destroy you.
I went to visit a man years ago. His name was Jorden. I went to that very sad ward in the big veterans hospital, and took my son along. We walked into the room, and Mr. Jorden’s bed was empty. His roommates told me he was in the cafeteria. I had been there before, but I don’t think Allan Jr. had. I was eager for him to see what was eating in the cafeteria. This was a ward designated for patients with cancer of the neck, face and respiratory track. We walked into the cafeteria. Such a sad sight! These men had smoked until they blew smoke and blew smoke and literally bHew their lips and their chins away. Somehow they did not seem to realize that, over the years, they had lost their chins and vocal cords. They thought they had faces but their faces were gone already.
I said, “Mr. Jorden, let’s go back to your room. As I tried to pray, I heard a strange sound. I knew immediately what it was. His roommate in the bed behind me had just turned on a little pump. It had a nice name, and it was all done up in chrome and steel, but it wasn’t much more than just the old fashioned suction pump. He was drawing the fluid off his lungs that he could not do on his own. He had smoked himself almost to death. When I looked to see the man to encourage him, I became fighting mad at sin, for after it had brought him so low, it still didn’t leave him alone. After he pumped his lungs dry, he took a cigarette and placed it in an opening in his neck. There was no taste to it, but he still felt that he had to smoke, even through an opening in his neck.
Oh, such a small thing; only about three inches tall. But don’t let it fool you. If you don’t conquer it, it will conquer you and tear you up. It will destroy you, and laugh in your face.
But there is something as lethal as a cigarette, and that is rebellion. Always stay on the good side of God. Always be on the side of truth, for rebellion is a vicious sin. It is as the sin of witchcraft. Rebellion can drive you from the presence of God. If there is a spark of rebellion somewhere in your life, you had better find it and put it out, because it isn’t any good to anybody. Rebellion is nasty, it is hideous, it has no mercy. It has but one goal, and that is to build a gulf between you and God, until that gulf is so wide you cannot get to God, and He cannot come to you.
A girl was in a service one night, sitting on the right side half way back. She was not a bad girl, but just mischievous. This night she was determined to have her own little sideshow on her side of the church. The evangelist was trying to preach, and she was entertaining two pews around her.
The pastor sat there, and tried his best to get her attention, but she was careful to always look the other way. Finally the pastor felt he could not let it go any further. He stood up, calmly walked over and put his hand on the evangelist’s shoulder, and said, “Excuse me, but we are not being fair to you.” Then he turned and, in a soft voice and in good taste, called her by her name and said, “Please, you don’t have to listen, and I can’t make you listen, but at least don’t disturb those around you; please be quiet.”
When he finished, the girl’s face turned a quick red. She was defiant. She looked at him like she could pull his old gray hair. She jumped to her feet, glared at him, and deliberately stomped up the aisle to the back door. When she got there, she turned and screamed at the top of her voice, “As long as I live, hear me preacher, as long as I live, I’ll never come back. I’ll never, never set foot in this church again.”
She walked out the door, and the saints began to pray for that girl. (Whatever you do, don’t be rebellious, don’t rebel, whatever you do; it will destroy you.)
Two years passed, and the same evangelist and pastor were in his home during another revival. The hospital called one day and said, “Pastor, we have a girl here who is very sick, and no one has been to see her. She has not asked for you, but would you come and see her, as a favor to me. Would you come to see her?” The caller did not leave the name, just a room number.
The pastor asked the evangelist if he would like to go and pray for someone in the hospital. They got to the room, tapped on the door and walked in. When they did, there was the scream they had first heard sometime ago. She screamed, then she began to sob. She said, “What are you doing, what are you doing here now? Did you come back to laugh at me? Did you come back to tell me I told you so? Why are you here?” She was dying of a disease that would cause some to blush if I were to call it by its name. She lay there in the grip of pain, soon to die, and she was asking, “Did you come to haunt me? I’m dying, and you came to laugh in my face.” Oh! Listen! If you don’t wrestle with rebellion, it will pin your ears. It will catch you in the corner, and beat your brains out. It will say, “I’m the one you let live.”
Maybe its the thirst for popularity. I know I walk slowly, and I’m getting bald, but I’m not as old as you think I am. I can remember when I wrestled for identity. I remember the time when in high school I was lonely a few times. It may be that you thirst for acceptance and you thirst for so-called popularity. Somehow this can screen you from the face of God. Let me tell you, it’s not worth it. All the applause of a ball game could not take the place of a smile from the Master’s face. The musical compliments you would receive on a dance floor could never replace the thrill of having the approval of God on your life.
I talked to a young lady who was beautiful. She was a high school senior who played the piano at camp meeting. She sang in a camp trio, and had tremendous talent. She had a pleasing personality. In school they nominated her and elected her to several beauty positions. She accepted. It was time for the homecoming game, and she was elected the queen for the homecoming ball game.
As she began to get all involved and get all the attention, a boy across the room, one who was not living a Christian life, began to notice the beauty queen. He began to wink at her. At first she paid no attention to him for, you see, she was a Pentecostal Conqueror. She was friendly, but that was the extent of her relationship with him. But he kept on winking, and the school kept on voting, and the kids kept on clapping, and there all the nice things—the pictures in the annual and the newspaper.
By the time we got to her church to start a revival, it was obvious that she was being swayed by the desire to be popular. I plead with her, “Whatever you do, don’t listen, don’t wink back at the world because you’ll be in trouble.” I’m talking about a good girl, one with tremendous opportunities and advantages.
Finally she told me one night, “Brother Oggs, you don’t understand. I owe them something. You know they like me. Don’t you see, I can’t just walk out on them.”
Before we left, she was going down side streets, not wanting to see me. She started winking back at the boy, and he promised her the moon and all the cheese in the moon—everything that a girl could imagine. Because she did not handle that sin in her life, she allowed herself to become entangled, and married out of the church. She walked away from God. Imagine, from a camp meeting platform all the way out into sin. It wasn’t long until she was trying to find all the promises, for, you see, her husband lived in another world. Oh listen! It doesn’t pay to allow these things to live. For they will rise up and destroy you.
What I like about it is that Samuel did not say to Saul, “Now you go down there and do your best. It just might be that they are not ready, so you might win. Do all you can. Jehovah and all the angels and I will be hoping you make it.” You know, he didn’t say that! It was understood: “This is not your battle at all. You are just an instrument in this whole affair. Saul, you do what God tells you to do, and God will fight your battle and you will win the victory.”
Even though sin may have been prevalent in your life for years, it thrills me to know that you can win the battle now. You don’t have to worry about the peasants you kicked over. You don’t have to stand here and say, “Last week I beat the butler, and the week before that I killed the baker, and the week before that I handled the crippled candlestick maker.” No sir! You can stand and say, “I wrestled with the king that wore the golden crown, and God has given me victory.” You can win the battle. There is no drought so dry that He can’t sprinkle your lips with the dew of heaven. There’s no river so wide that He can’t roll it back so you can tiptoe across on dry ground. There’s no tower so tall, standing in opposition, that He can’t make it to crumble. What I’m saying is that you can conquer tobacco, you can beat the stuffing out of liquor, and you can pin drug addiction to the floor. Rebellion can be snuffed out. Popularity? Why you can be number one on heaven’s popularity poll. If you dare to surrender all these to God.
I was once in New Orleans for two weeks in revival. Living in the city was my grandmother. She weighed over 300 pounds, and this made her a semi-invalid. Because I was the preacher, she wanted to be there, so I went by every night to pick her up and take her to church.
The first night I preached from this same scripture, and for thirteen more nights I preached. Before God, I was doing my very best. I was trying real hard. The last night came, and no one had been baptized and not one had received the Holy Ghost. I closed my Bible and walked off the platform. At the time I had not been married very long, but my wife already realized that there were times it would be best if she would not have much to say. There I was, stewing in my own quietness. Driving home, I wondered if I should have said this or maybe I should have said that.
Halfway home that night my grandmother spoke up. It kind of ruffled me for just a minute to think that she would break into my solitude. She said, “Son, do you remember what you preached the first night?”
I said, “Yes.”
She told me, I just thought you would like to know I went home that night and sat in my big chair, for you know I can’t kneel. I prayed for three hours, and it was almost daylight when I finally killed it.”
I said, “You did what?”
She said, “I finally killed it: the sin in my life that wore the golden crown.”
I knew what her problem was. I said, “Why did you do it? Did you do it for me or did you do it for dad? Why did you do it?”
She said, “No, it wasn’t for you and it wasn’t for your dad. That night God got hold of my heart, and I conquered the besetting sin in my life.”
The next day we left for a Sunday school convention. The first night of convention, a call came across the sound system calling my grandmother’s pastor to the phone. Soon after that, her pastor called my wife and me to the side. He was standing there with big tears flowing down his cheeks, for you see he could remember the time he lay dying with a heart attack, and my big grandmother prayed for God to spare his life and take hers, for he had so much of the Lord’s work to do. He broke the news to me that the call from home told him that Grandma was dead. Big Grandma was found in the bathtub, dead. Pastor Thomas cried, and I cried. But only for a moment, for suddenly I thought I could hear her say, “I just thought you’d like to know, son, I destroyed the sin that wore the golden crown.”
I rushed home to be of help to those who were left, and to do what I could. The whole way home it seemed like the pine trees were saying, “It’s all right son. Even at the grave site it seemed that the rippling of the grass was whispering, “It’s O.K. I destroyed in my life the sin that wore the golden crown.”
Oh, I hope that you do. You can.
The above article, “The Sin That Wears A Golden Crown” is written by Allan C. Oggs Sr. The article was excerpted from pages 25-46 of Oggs’ book Today is the Beginning.
The material is most likely copyrighted and should not be reprinted under any other name or author. However, this material may be freely used for personal study or research purposes.