Christ Happened To Me

I chose this picture becauseI took it in a hurry and it isn't a great shot, but it was capturing a great moment.
I chose this picture becauseI took it in a hurry and it isn’t a great shot, but it was capturing a great moment. And to remind myself… it’s ok if things are messy.

This is my new “statement of faith” so to speak. Goodbye with the “foundation” of my beliefs. This is my heart. It isn’t perfect. It can be taken the wrong way. But man… isn’t that just life as we know it?

I get so caught up in myself… that I lose sight of Christ.

To come back to Him is what I live for.

He is my breath of fresh air. Not any man or woman on this earth; it is God alone.

I spend my nights in agony when He is sitting by; He is the medic to the wounds I pour salt into as I say that I am healing myself.

I cannot heal myself.

I cannot heal myself through words, through answered prayers, through a voice on the phone. I cannot heal myself through lips touching, through long stories, or through soft fingers holding mine.

I did not accept Christ into my life; He barged in. He stood before me in His suit and tie, or whatever’s Heaven version of it, and demanded that I come with Him. I protested so He carried me.

He took me away from the beat up makeshift place I called a home, covered in dirt and bugs and having only rocks to rest my head upon.

He led me into His kingdom, with walls so high that they make the heavens jealous. He led me to His home, which far surpasses anything I could ever own on earth.

And it is here that I find all peace. It is here that I find comfort. It is here that I may cry… and cry… and cry…. knowing God has great things in store for me. And He was starting these new things when I lived in the dirt. He didn’t need me to start my life.

Christ is not something I chose to let into my heart; rather, Christ happened to me.

 

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