Mad to be Saved

I've soon found myself no longer satisfied by the complacency that comes so frequently close in hand with my Christianity, but rather shaking in a fervered fever to no longer sit quietly still and wait for His perfect end.
A buried burning has crashed through my soul with a lovely, scalding sermon, pushing me to jump from a silent rest and rush into a brightened new day with a craving madness for all the singing truths my saintly God holds for me.
No longer do I lay in a darkened state, bruising through the murderous moments that would hold me down to a fighter's stance and keeping me meekly complacent against my holy callings.
Instead, with shining eyes and graceful determination, a white-hot passion shoots through my electric veins and signals my sinner's soul to fervently search for and capture all the beautiful salvations I have missed, all the blinding blessings I have screamed beyond in my wasted past.
I have become but a mad man for I now find myself simply and wholly mad to be saved, craving to be in Him, with Him, used only through Him.
My holy madness is clutched closely now. I need and want only to see it grow without bounds, rapturing all that I am and all that I was ever meant to be.
I, the made new maniac, am mad to be saved and in Him, it shall be simply yet mercifully so.