This is my most recent poem entitled, "Addict."
I am an addict.
Addicted to my own plans.
The plans that focus on my own ways,
Desires that I stay fixated on for days.
The desires that put my wants and comforts first,
This selfishness inside demands to get out above the surface and burst.
I am an addict.
Addicted to pleasing anyone and everyone,
Pleasing to be given worth except for the worth that comes from the Son.
Perfecting an image that seems so flawless,
So put together it might as well be lifeless.
Unfulfilling because perfection can't be found,
Because only to sin and disobedience, this place is bound.
I am an addict.
Addicted to playing the role.
The role that says 'Jesus Follower' on the outside,
While the heart screams 'Temporary Fan When Things are Going Well' on the inside.
Living FOR God going through the motions,
Yet filling my soul with poisoned potions,
Instead of basking in the relationship truly offered with grace,
But I'm too set on MYSELF conquering the race.
I am an addict.
Addicted to things of this world.
The things that are told to bring happiness and life,
Buying into the lies that only bring stress and strife.
Putting Spirit-filled joy and surrender on hold,
Rationalizing the need for the new Blackberry Bold.
I am an addict.
Addicted to fear.
The fear that comes from lack of trust,
Forgetting that I am nothing but dust.
Doubt that He redeems dust into beautiful things,
Avoiding true refinement that only comes through pain and stings.
Afraid that His art made from my heart is not the best,
I hesitate to let go of white knuckles in order to make myself become less.
I am an addict.
Addicted to living a lie.
The lie that I can support myself and get by on my own,
So saturated in culture, the world creates me to be another clone.
A woman who feeds off of self-sufficiency and control,
Manipulating time and resources to achieve the next goal.
Refusing to let God rip these hands open to give to Him everything,
In order to live the called life of only having the cross to cling.
I am an addict.
Addicted to watering down truth.
The truth that says I am the worst of them all,
Sin so tightly entangled in my veins, I might as well be Saul.
Sin so gruesome I deserve nothing but death,
Sin that rejects the power in Jesus' last breath.
The breath of a dead man raised back to life in three days,
A miracle that replaced despair with hope when there was no other way.
Hope that leads back to a loving Father's arms,
Arms that take away all addictions that produce harm.
Love unfathomable and undeserved is freely given,
Given when we decide to stand up and start living.
Living and boldly proclaiming, 'Lord, only of You,
Your promises and grace, I am addicted.'