I pray
to rid me of complacency—
that lukewarm state
that turns to tepid tedium
each task we do for church.
I search
my consciousness for any cold
unfeeling thought that cools
the ardor of my early love
and fools
me into thinking lukewarm letter
can do the work of Spirit's fire.
Borne higher
I feel the power of Love's holy flame
to rouse me from the numbing shame
of being caught
between the cold and hot
in Lukewarm Land.
I understand:
Love knows no variation of degree
no lapsing into ritual or rule
but glows forever at the same
intensity.
