Lukewarm

When I had Twitter, I would cycle through a variety of usernames. One of the most memorable, perhaps cheesy, was "feelin_lukewarm." I look back on this with jest now; however there's something worth considering when it comes to carrying a "lukewarm" disposition.

What does it mean to be lukewarm?

We're neither hot, nor cold. It's tepid, like dry pond water. (A bit gunky; not very fish friendly.) It could be compared to apathy, indifference. Yet it seems more appropriately defined as a lack of willingness to commit. One foot is in the fire, the other is out. 

It doesn't represent a "yes," nor does it represent a "no." To be lukewarm is to live on the fence, always saying "maybe," sometimes saying "yes" and other times saying "no." 

Lukewarmness signifies an identity crisis. It is a post-commitment relapse into un-belief. (Not dis-belief, but a refusal to even entertain true belief or true lack of belief). To be lukewarm is to say I am this sometimes. Other times, I am not this, but I'm that. To be lukewarm is to cherry-pick belief, to mistake faith in a God who is truth and who is eternal, for a God who is flimsy and temperamental: a God that ends up being made in our (very human) image and likeness.

For Catholics, lukewarmness is a spiritual epidemic with disastrous consequences. Quote the Revelation 3 (yes, Revelation, which is actually an amazing and beautiful letter): 

"I know your works; I know that you are neither cold nor hot.I wish you were either cold or hot. So, because you are lukewarm, neither hot or cold, I will spit you out of my mouth. For you say, 'I am rich and affluent and have no need of anything' and yet do not realize that you are wretched, pitiable, poor, blind and naked."  

 Spit out the lukewarm? 

It is better to be cold because a cold heart is still, always, capable of being kindled by the merciful love of Jesus. But most of all, it is best to be hot, on fire, since the love of God lives on in us, through us. The lukewarm are pitiable and wretched because they are content. They don't need any more kindling for their fire; they don't recognized their need, their emptiness, their desire for fulfillment. Instead, they are satisfied, rich and not in need.

The cold are in need of the fire! 

And the hot need the inspiration, the Spirit, to keep their faith alive.

Lukewarmness is disastrous not only on a personal level, but a societal level. How can we seek the Kingdom of God in the world if we don't even desire to seek it first in our own hearts? To be a disciple is to truly be set ablaze by the fire and love of the Holy Spirit. The promise of Easter is that Pentecost is--must be--ours too. 

One of the greatest mystics of our era, St. Faustina Kowalska, had visions of Jesus; in her diary, she recorded Jesus saying the following: 

The flames of mercy are burning Me-- clamoring to be spent; I want to keep pouring them out upon souls; souls just don't want to believe in My goodness (Diary, 177).

Mercy is abundant

The love of the Lord, the gift of the Spirit is not rationed. This limitless mercy is entirely inconceivable. However, it has been placed without our reach. In so far as we're willing to believe in it, in the Mercy of God, the goodness of God, it is yours, it is mine, it is ours in humble prayer and faith.

There's much more to say, always... but today is the feast commemorating St. Anselm (1033-1109) and I came across a quote that seems appropriate in closing:

"For I do not seek to understand in order to believe, but I believe in order to understand. For I believe this: unless I believe, I will not understand." 

To believe, to be set ablaze, we must get close to the fire. To get close to the fire, we must face the heat. We must step close into the light. This may illuminate some weak spots, some wounds. But the fire of Love in which God deals purifies. To believe in the light, in the strength of the blaze, we need to get close. We need to get close enough to get burnt, yes; but close enough to be transformed, made new, hot, alive and in love.