Lukewarm

We went on vacation this week. We pulled into our front drive at 9:20 pm, and I pulled back out...again at 9:48. Off in search of the perfect pizza to top off a long week of being scrunced in too tight with too many people in a really little place. I have a mild case of sun poisoning on my arms and lower legs, but it'll be okay. I'm a beach bum.

Something struck me hard this week. Harder than the oncoming hurricane season that has already reared its ominous head this year. As I was scrunced and twisted and convorted in a small shower stall in our bathroom that only an infant or small child could fit into and actually shave their legs in without looking like a marionette doll, I was continously fighting with the temerature of the water. At one second it was scaldingly hot. The next millisecond I was shivering because it was much too cold. Standing there stark naked in this microspopic shower stall with my sister banging on the door to "hurry it up!", it hit me...

All this time I've been questioning my Salvation. Am I really saved? Can 4 year olds be saved? or do they have to wait? have I just been playing lip service all of these years. But the answer came to me on a windy night in North Myrtle Beach. I shouldn't be questioning my salvation, but rather the degree of my Christianity. I have been lukewarm for so many days, months, years, that I have forgotten what it means to be on fire, scaldingly hot for God. I've been coasting around, just barely getting by. As much and as passionately as I hate taking lukewarm showers, God hates my lukewarm-ness maginified a million-fold.

I can't seem to get this out of my head. It has continually been coming back to me. I've never experienced some of the things that other Christ-followers say that you have to have to be a "good Christian"...I don't hear God speaking directly to me, I cant' write songs or poems, I'm horrible a journaling everyday, and I have this genetic phobia about sharing things that are private. But, on the way home this afternoon/evening/night (it was an 8 hour trip home), mom told me and assured me as only my mother can, that this is okay. Dad would never talk about his walk, God hasn't left, He know exactly where I am, and that most importantly,and the thing I think gets lost the most along the way...everyone's walk is as different as their salvation story, or their thumbprint, and every other quirk that makes us...us.