When you were a kid, was there anything better in life than sneaking into the kitchen and snatching a still warm chocolate chip cookie off the cooling rack? Remember? Crispy and warm with the chocolate still melty and gooey. Could anything beat it? Nothing ... nothing, that is, unless your mom was the kind that allowed you a spoonful of the cookie dough before it was baked.

Sticky and brown-sugar sweet with hidden chips waiting to be licked clean and slowly dissolved on your tongue .... Yes, maybe the cookie dough was the best. But as good as cookie dough and a freshly baked cookie are, the in-between stage is terrible. A half-baked cookie sinks down in the middle, forming a glutinous puddle. When eaten, that same cookie continues to sink -- right to the pit of your stomach like a stone. Half-baked: not really a cookie, not really dough. Gluey and tepid, a half-baked cookie deserves God's treatment for all tepid things -- it gets spewed out of your mouth!

Most things that begin with the adjective "half" are bad news.

Half-baked -- not good for cakes, cookies or creativity.

Half-life -- things like nuclear waste that always last about 10,000 years longer than any of us will be alive.

Half-done -- when you still have to do as much as you've already completed.

Halftime -- especially bad and over-blown during the Super Bowl.

Half-dead -- never the look you want to go for.

Half-alive -- which always begs the question "Which half?"

Half-price -- what's wrong with it?

Half-crazy -- just sane enough to be out on the streets.

Half-grown -- a teenager!

Half-gone -- a teenager's parent!

But perhaps the most dismal "half" we encounter on a regular basis in ourselves, others, our churches, our families and our communities is half-heartedness. To be on the receiving end of a halfhearted gesture, a halfhearted compliment, a halfhearted commitment, a halfhearted love, is wholly depressing and discouraging. Rev. 3: 14 "And to the angel of the church in Laodicea write: The words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the origin of God's creation: 15 "I know your works; you are neither cold nor hot. I wish that you were either cold or hot. 16 So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I am about to spit you out of my mouth."

Anything given halfheartedly is not a joy, but a chore. Any cardiac patient can tell you that to try to go through life half-hearted is a constant struggle. You struggle to breathe, you struggle for comfort, you struggle to climb, you struggle even to rest. All these are symptoms of what you face when you live life halfheartedly.

What most people don't realize is that we've all been born with a serious heart defect. This defect limits our ability to love, to give, to obey, to rejoice, to enjoy, to praise. That is why God has offered us a chance at life-altering, lifesaving heart surgery -- the new covenant. God intends for us health and wholeness -- what we call salvation. Heart surgery is done by none other than Jesus Christ.

As Christians, we believe that we don't need to wait for an eschatological "someday" for the miracle of the new covenant to transform our damaged hearts into compassionate, complete organs. Through the sacrifice of Jesus Christ we receive the gift of life and health we so desperately need. It is the Holy Spirit who keeps our life juices flowing.

Instead of accepting this divine cure, however, some people opt for a Band-Aid. Admittedly, some of the Band-Aids we try to paste over our damaged, damning hearts are pretty fancy and impressive.

--There is the Band-Aid of a big home, a big salary and big spending.

--There is the Band-Aid of frenzied jobs, frantic families and furious schedules.

--There is the Band-Aid of loud friends, loud music and loud parties.

--There is the Band-Aid of lots of lovers, lots of cars, lots of drugs, lots of jewelry and lots of food.

The problem is that we may be lulled into thinking were all right when we are really half-dead. Where there is so much half-heartedness in the world, Jesus gives to us -- and makes us -- whole-hearted. And when we are whole-hearted, we can experience Whole Life. In a world half-dead, Jesus calls us to whole life. John 10: I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

I ran across a poem recently that best conveys what half-dead means:

First I was dying to finish high school and start college.
And then I was dying to finish college and start working.
And then I was dying to marry and have children.
And then I was dying for my children to grow old enough for school so I could return to work.
And then I was dying to retire.
And now I'm dying ...
And I suddenly realize I forgot to live.

(Anonymous poem, as quoted in Jonathan Kramer and Diane Dunaway Kramer, Losing the Weight of the World: A Spiritual Diet to Nourish the Soul [New York: Doubleday, 1997], 55.)

James A. Harnish of Hyde Park Church in Tampa, Florida, began his 1998 Easter sermon with an ad for Bermuda. It was an ad that teased and taunted him and his wife into celebrating their 20th wedding anniversary there. Listen to the ad:

Lungs fill with air made fresh that day. Your pulse slows, in time to softly undulating waves. Your eyes open to morning glories as you listen to the song of a kiskadee miles away. Forget how old you are and remember how young you are ("Walking With Jesus," April 12, 1998).

This is the promise of the gospel. This is the promise of the new covenant. You don't have to go through life half-dead. You can live whole life. You can be wholly alive to life. The life of the flesh is a half-life. The life of faith is whole life. What do you want out of life? Less? Or More?

Bob Buford, in his book Half Time, tells the story of his friend Howard. Howard, in his mid-40s, is the chairman, president and CEO of his firm, the largest of its type in the city where he lives. Buford describes him as "the most driven and compulsive person I know in an organization of high-powered, ambitious people." The trade press has called Howard "The Great White Shark" and has also compared him to a "heat-seeking missile," descriptions which are intended and taken as compliments.

By every available standard of whole life, Howard seemed to be there. Buford says that he had dinner with Howard about three years ago and in that conversation Howard attributed his phenomenal success to hard work. "I do four client dinners a week. I'm not home much, but my family has to understand that the job comes first. We get quality time on vacation, but that's about it for the year."

A year and a half later, Howard lost his son in an accident. Buford writes, "There was nothing in Howard that prepared him for the loss of his son -- absolutely nothing. He was grief-stricken and tormented by all manner of unanswerable questions." Later, when Buford ran into Howard at a meeting, Howard confessed that he wasn't handling this very well. He was half-dead and wanted whole life, but now realized it wasn't going to come to him the way he thought.

At a subsequent meeting, Howard leaned across a dinner table and told Buford that he was staying on with the firm until the end of the year, but that his resignation had already been written and delivered. He went on to say that he had told some of his clients what he was doing, and they had all had the same reaction: 20 seconds of silence and then the words, "You beat me to it. My wife and I have been talking about doing the same thing."

Buford says that the last time he called Howard's office, he had skipped out to play basketball with inner-city kids at a recreation center. It was 10 a.m. on a weekday. Howard's secretary said that he would return Buford's call, but Buford said there was no rush.

Howard, half-dead, found whole life. (See Half Time [Zondervan Publishing House, 1994] 86-87). But you don't have to do a 180-degree turnaround like Howard to experience life. Just do enough of spiritual "retrofitting" that will allow you to use your gifts for God.

Todd Snider has a "cut" from his CD, Songs From the Daily Planet (1994) called "A Lot More." It's a song that preaches our sermon this morning better than we can. He writes: "Some guys are looking for diamonds/ Some guys just wanna pay their bills/ Some guys are climbin' the mountains/ While others are diggin' for thrills ...." He then concludes in the chorus:

"Well, good luck at the end of that rainbow.
If you think that's what you're here for
And make no mistake about it, baby,
I want a whole lot more.
I want a whole lot more."

How about you? Which will it be? Half-dead or whole life? I want a whole lot more.