Blood is on the Hands of the Church

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Neither hot nor cold, the Church is Lukewarm:

A bath that soothes no muscles after a hard day.

Dishwater that sanitizes no dishes.

The cupful that quenches no thirst.


Lukewarm is the temperature of a church with no empathy.


Lukewarm spirituality allows us to furrow our brows, shake our heads dramatically, and move on.

Lukewarm, we see in the dead no relation because they are not our Color.

Not our Gender.

Not our Sexual Orientation.

Not our Nationality.


Lukewarm is the feel of apathy to the skin of the dead.


Lukewarm prayers mouthed to a God made in our image amount to little more than hollow placations and empty rituals.

Lukewarm, we fail to see we embody the answered prayer that would prevent another shooting.

Another execution.

Another suicide.

Another murder.


Lukewarm is the thermometer reading of cowardice.


Lukewarm faith takes no stand against Bible-wielding politicians who run roughshod over constitutions and amendments.

Lukewarm, we look away and are at once condemned along with the shooter.

The killer cop.

The dictator.

A Nigerian mob.

The pharmaceutical CEO.


Lukewarm is the tepid response of our indifference to the state of the world.


Lukewarm religion views evil in the world with shrugged shoulders and a yawn.

Lukewarm, we develop a consciousness that has no conscience.

No concern.

No conviction.


Lukewarm is passing the body on the other side.

The barren fig tree.

Our Sunday-best blasphemy.


Lukewarm is the church’s impending irrelevance.

And our great sin.


We deserve to be spewed out.


Note: I penned these words just before midnight on December 2, 2015 in the aftermath of the San Bernadino shooting earlier that day—the 350th shooting in the United States in which four or more people have been wounded.” (

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