I am a Jesus freak

I don’t need the church to exist to be a Jesus freak, and I don’t need Jesus to have existed in order to be a Jesus freak, and I don’t even need God to exist to be a Jesus freak, and I don’t need the power of the Holy Spirit to be a Jesus freak. Jesus could be some sort of avatar, a descendant of many other virgin-born messianic children, and it doesn’t matter; I’m still a Jesus freak. Jesus could be a conspiracy to fool people, an opiate of the masses, and I would still be a Jesus freak. I could find out that it’s all the Anunnaki, all aliens, all experimenters, that America is a terrarium and the Earth is a terrarium and the world is a terrarium, and I would still be a Jesus freak. The Bible could be fan fiction, the Gospels could be fan fiction; they could be completely derivative, based on other formative religious texts and works, or they could have been fomented to create a subculture of cattle-like pacifist people, and I could find all that out and still be a Jesus freak, because I’m a Jesus freak in spite of all those things.

And I have aphantasia. I have no mind’s eye. When I close my eyes, there’s nothing there: no pictures, no faces, no light, no dove descending, no Sacred Heart glowing in the dark. All around me, people are tripping balls over Jesus. They see Him, they feel Him in their bodies, they speak in tongues, they get visions and visitations and goosebumps and tears. I get none of it. I’m mostly lizard brain. I look at the world raw, with no AR and no VR, no overlay, no special effects, just the thing in front of me. Nobody’s pumping a spiritual light show into my skull, and I’m still a Jesus freak.

I’m pretty sure all those things are true, and it doesn’t diminish my Jesus freakiness one iota.