Wanted: Lukewarm Poster Child (Rev. 3:15-20)

I am a Christian. The first time I said that was 17 years ago; a lot has changed since then. What ever happened to the wild faith I first knew? You know, the romantic dreams of saving the world for the greater good. When did the desire for the bigger, better television screen or smaller, faster computer shadow my hope to make a difference for the future? At 35, I realize that comfort and security have come to rule my decisions. In the midst of preparing for the safest and most entertaining journey toward death, I have forgotten the purpose of life. "Oh sure," I would argue "I make a difference as a teacher by inspiring young minds," yet am I not only replicating the same programming toward comfort in others? I teach people how to write more eloquently and think more deeply, but what inspriation can I give them? Like most people in my community, even in my church, I am lukewarm. This is a confession of sin. I have exchanged the passionate faith to which I was once called for a cushy, albeit temporary, seat on the couch of the easy life, and while this blog may begin with a confession, I intend it to be a journal of my repentance. Consider this my resignation as the poster child for a complacent, meaningless existence. I have no idea what this step looks like, how long it takes or where it leads, but no longer do I wish to be "wretched pitiful, poor, blind and naked." I hear the knock and answer the door. Wanted: Lukewarm Poster Child.