(This is what I shared a couple weeks ago in class about lukewarm living. We’ve been studying Crazy Love, by Francis Chan. Posted here by request.)
Casting Crown’s song, Somewhere in the Middle, described me to a tee. Flattery. Discontented. Disconnected. Liar. Untrustworthy. Hidden. Fear of exposure. Fear to look within. Busy. Afraid to slow down because then I’d have to deal with me. A form of religion that I designed to cover my mutilated, diseased, distant and dying heart.
Motivations? Oh yeah, I had them. As long as I didn’t tarnish the name of Jesus. I could walk right up to the line of, well, you just fill in the blank-as long as I never crossed it. I tithed, 10% every month-just ask me. I served-when I had time. I led and taught, all in the name of Jesus. Believe me, if anyone knew the bible, it was me. I even decided there was no point reading certain sections anymore because I knew them SO WELL.
I was a dutiful wife. I cooked when I was home in time. I made sure I made time every week or so for my husband; after all, we were always wrapped up in so many good things. And pray? I prayed for my students and coworkers. I put verses on the wall of my classroom and office. And if a coworker needed prayer, I’d stop in my tracks and pray with them.
I read my bible when I was in a bind and made myself have a quiet time once in a while; never really looking forward to it. I always felt obligated. Events lifted me up and relit the fire. I lived on the highs I felt at retreats and simulcasts; I lived on the idea of what life could be.
Always controlling. Always planning. Always safe. Always selfish. Always feeling that deep down there was something missing.
Turns out I was missing Jesus. I was a Martha. I saw the Mary’s and envied them. There was no way life was just that simple. No way that it all boiled down to loving God and loving people.
I was the salt that was missing its saltiness. As Francis Chan said, “not fit for manure”…