Addiction

So you get called a religious nut, and folks say that you Jesus Freak people out.  And I know.  I get it, really I do.  But I am nothing now but a woman wholly addicted to Christ.  He is my holy addiction.

You know, the way He reached right down and rescued me, and the way He turned everything right side up and helped me to breathe again.  The way He started the blood pumping in this heart dead black.  And how I just want to keep my face pressed right up into His.  So I never, ever get lost again. So I always have a home.  So I know that I belong.  To the One Who made me, and the One Who loves me.  The One Who calls me His own.  The One Who promises that He will never leave me or forsake me.  The One Who finds it impossible to lie. And...

Couldn't you get lost in a love like that?  Couldn't you risk losing anything?  For the One Who gave you everything?  And wouldn't you find yourself beating a straight path to His door...for more?  Just so you could be near Him, and just so you could get the smell of Him all over your clothes, your breath, your life?  The sweet aroma of Christ on the fallen down is intoxicating.  You can't get enough of Him because He's the way, and He's the truth, and He's the life, and you can't say no to Him because He is really all you want.  He is this one little life's obsession.  And He is the reason we become wholly addicted.  To Him.  To this Jesus.

Our only fix,

Bernadette