9-20-2009 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

MAN OVERBOARD!

    Last Sunday morning, we talked at great length about nametags.  Of course, it wasn’t really a sermon about nametags, was it?  It was really a sermon about discipleship.  The question was asked, “How can we identify a healthy disciple?”  The following criteria were presented:

1.      Who is your Lord?  In other words, when everything is said and done, whose agenda are you truly following?

 

2.      Who are you?  At the beginning of each day, do you wake up thinking you’ll have to go out and win your own share of security and significance, or can you truly say that those are priceless gifts you have already received?

 

3.      Who is your Barnabas?  Barnabas spoke up for the Apostle Paul and was something of a mentor to him.  Who is your spiritual mentor, the one from whom you are learning how to follow Jesus Christ?

 

4.      Who is your Timothy?  Paul was something of a mentor to Timothy.  Who is your apprentice – the one to whom you are passing along the life lessons that God has entrusted you?

 

5.      Where is your Antioch?  Antioch, to Paul, was a safe haven where the call of God could find him.  What small group of friends is your safe haven that is helping you     to discern the will of God in your life?

 

6.      Where is your Macedonia?  This was a field of ministry for Paul.  What field of ministry is most closely aligned with God’s call on your life and hauntingly stirs     your deepest passion?

   Our focus this week will be on the first criteria of a healthy disciple: Who is your Lord?  In other words, when everything is said and done, whose agenda are you truly following?  Again, when everything is said and done, whose agenda are you truly following?

    In the passage we read from the gospel according to Mark, Jesus presents what we call his first passion prediction.  In other words, he was trying to tell his disciples of his impending crucifixion and resurrection.  He began by saying to his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?”  They answered him, “Some say John the Baptist.  Others say Elijah or one of the prophets.”  Jesus said to them, “But who do you say that I am?”  It was Peter who first replied, “You are the Christ, Son of the Living God.”

     “You are the Christ, Son of the Living God.”  What does that really mean?  What does it mean to say that Jesus is the Christ, or to say that Jesus is the Messiah?  I think Jesus himself explains what it means in the verses that follow.  He says, “If any wish to become my followers, let them deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow me.  For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”  In other words, Jesus Christ must become Lord of our lives.  Jesus Christ must become the one who dictates the plan for our lives.

     And that’s all well and good, in theory.  The Apostle Paul points out what more often happens in reality.  Addressing the plight of humanity in the first chapter of Romans, he writes, “Ever since the creation of the world, God’s eternal power and divine nature – invisible though they are – have been understood and seen through the things he has made.  So people are without excuse; for though they knew God, they did not honor him as God or give thanks to him, but they became futile in their thinking, and their senseless minds were darkened.  Claiming to be wise, they became fools; and they exchanged the glory of the immortal God for images (or idols)… Therefore God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, because they exchanged the truth about God for a lie, and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator.”

     Can we safely say that there’s an element of that going on today?  Are not there those who worship and serve the creature rather than the Creator?  I propose that our entire mindset has been shifted to serve the creature rather than the Creator.  And one of the culprits in this transition is the advertizing industry.

     For example, if we don’t use the right shampoo, we’re going to end up with split ends or dandruff and be repulsive to those around us.  If we don’t use the right toothpaste, our teeth won’t be their whitest and that might keep us from getting the perfect job.  And if we don’t use the right deodorant or cologne, we won’t have crazed members of the opposite sex leaping on us in grocery store aisles.  The advertizing industry does its level best to convince us that without their product, our lives will not be full.  The advertizing industry does its level best to convince us to worship the creature rather than the Creator. 

     George MacDonald tries to set us right in his book, Creation in Christ.  He believes the opposite – that we should be worshiping the Creator rather than the creature.  He writes:

I will tell you.  Get up, and do something the Master tells you; so make yourself his disciple at once.  Instead of asking yourself whether you believe or not, ask yourself whether you have this day done one thing because he said, “Do it,” or once abstained because he said, “Do not do it.”  It is simply absurd to say you believe, or even want to believe in him, if you do not anything he tells you.  If you can think of nothing he ever said as having had an atom of influence on your doing or not doing, you have too good ground to consider yourself no disciple of his.

But you can begin at once to be a disciple of the Living One – by obeying him in the first thing you can think of in which you are not obeying him.  We must learn to obey him in everything, and so must begin somewhere.  Let it be at once, and in the very next thing that lies at the door of our conscience!  Oh fools and slow of heart, if you think of nothing but Christ, and do not set yourselves to do his words!  You but build your houses on the sand.

     To be a disciple of Jesus Christ is to be able to answer the question, “Who is my Lord?”  The answer, of course, is: “Jesus Christ is my Lord.”  And if Jesus Christ is truly your Lord, you will take up your cross and follow.  For if Jesus Christ is truly your Lord, you will do what he tells you to do.

     It won’t be easy and it won’t always be pleasant.  So the question now, I guess, is this: Is it worth it?  Why bother to be a disciple of Jesus Christ if it entails suffering and sacrifice?  Why even try to make Jesus my Lord?

     I think Glenn McDonald gives us a wonderful reason in his book, The Disciple Making Church.  I call this story, “Man Overboard!”  Listen to this:

To celebrate their fiftieth anniversary, my parents decided that they would host their own party.  They invited their three sons and three daughters-in-law to join them on a Caribbean cruise in February.  I don’t recall agonizing for very long over the invitation.  When someone hands you a free Get-Out-of-Indiana-in-February card, you take it.  Speaking as veteran cruise passengers, my parents gushed, “We’ll do all kinds of things together, and before dinner on the second day we’ll even get a chance to stand in line and meet the captain.”  I rolled my eyes and said to (my wife), “Don’t worry.  I’ll figure out a way to get us out of that one.”

The trip was wonderful.  Cruises are designed to be multisensory, it’s-all-about-me experiences for the guests.  At the end of the first evening of water-gazing and over-indulging in the dining room, we headed for bed.  While we slept the boat quietly cruised out into the open water beyond Puerto Rico.  At 4:48 a.m., however, everything changed.  We were awakened by a disembodied voice on the cabin intercom.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain.  I am very sorry to disturb you so early in the morning, but we have an urgent concern.  We have an unconfirmed report that a passenger has fallen overboard.  We have already turned the ship around and initiated a search.”  At that moment I realized for the first time that the boat was no longer moving.  The captain continued, “Please go to your room if you are not there at this time, and account for everyone in your party.  If anyone is missing, please report their name to the purser’s desk immediately.”

Thirty minutes passed.  Through our window we could see searchlights sweeping across the swells of black water in the pre-dawn darkness.  The U.S. and Dutch Coast Guards had arrived on the scene.  We found ourselves praying, “God, if anyone is out there alone in that ocean, may your mercy be upon him.”  The captain spoke a second time.  “Ladies and gentlemen, two men are currently unaccounted for.  Their names are John Garcia and Eric Armstrong.  If you know the whereabouts of either of these men, please bring word to us right away.”

There were 1700 guests on the cruise boat and more than 700 crew members.  From the list of 2400 passengers the captain had narrowed the search to just two individuals.  Fifteen minutes later he addressed us again.  “Ladies and gentlemen, we are looking for Eric Armstrong.”  The energies of everyone on board were now focused on the hunt for a solitary person.  Though he was a stranger to us, we all knew his name.

Two hours later the sun rose above the Caribbean.  Once again we heard the captain’s voice.  “Ladies and gentlemen, I am very pleased to tell you we have just found Eric Armstrong.  A U.S. Coast Guard helicopter is at this moment airlifting him to safety.    He appears to be in good condition.  Thank you for your cooperation during this time.”

     The successful search-and-rescue had a dramatic effect on the rest of the cruise.  Every passenger now knew: I’m sailing with someone who would turn this ship around  in the middle of the night and come looking for me.  Who was Eric Armstrong?  Was he a V.I.P.?  A U.S. senator?  The first mate?  Someone intimately related to the captain?  No, he was a 20-year-old man who at about 4:30 a.m. was in a restricted area and had apparently fallen off the bow while doing the Titanic thing – I’m king of the world!

Before dinner on that second day, there was no question what I wanted to do.  I stood in line to meet the captain.  I wanted to shake the hand of the man who I knew would pull out all the stops to find one lost person, even someone who was doing the wrong thing at the wrong place at the wrong time.

     McDonald concludes his story with these words.  “It occurred to me later that this is precisely what Jesus did on the cross.  He pulled out all the stops to launch a search-and-rescue for an entire world of lost people – a great many of whom remain oblivious to his very existence.”  So I ask you again: Why bother to be a disciple of Jesus Christ if it entails suffering and sacrifice?  Why even try to make Jesus my Lord?  That’s why.  Jesus made the ultimate sacrifice for us.  Can’t we make a little sacrifice for him?

     Leo Tolstoy points out that every person has to choose between two gods.  Most people opt for “the god who is here to serve me.”  The difficulty, as Tolstoy reminds us, is that such a god doesn’t exist.  Clinging to the expectation that Christ exists only to make me happy is a recipe for deep disappointment.  Tolstoy’s alternative is the God whom I myself am called to honor and serve.  The Lordship of Jesus Christ means waking up to the conviction that we have received the gift of life in order to do what Jesus wants us to do.  Perhaps we could even say that the cruise is not about us. The cruise…is about the captain.

     And don’t think for a minute that it doesn’t really matter.  Christ did not come just to save you and me.  Jesus Christ came to transform the world.  Chuck Colson recently wrote an interesting commentary on that very subject.  He wrote:

I see no hope for our culture if the Church is not revitalized.  Culture is religion incarnate, and culture shapes politics.  So if we’re going to change the direction of our society, the Church has to fulfill its role as the conscience of society.  Well, I can already hear you saying, “Isn’t worldview just an abstract subject that tweedy professors like to talk about?”  Emphatically, no!  Everybody’s got a worldview that determines how they live their lives.  The sum total of all the worldviews in our culture determines the kind of society we have.  And frankly, Christian are losing the worldview battle.

We need to teach the next generation what we believe, why we believe it, why it matters, and how it plays out in every walk of life.  Worldview determines how we form our families, what is taught in schools, what laws our communities pass, what kind of music we listen to, and what we believe about art and science.

The great apologist Francis Shaeffer was right when he said that Christians must be missionaries to their own culture. Our culture speaks a different language, and thinks differently, than Christians do.  And if we don’t understand this, we can’t communicate effectively with our non-believing neighbors.

I pray fervently that there will be a mighty movement of God’s people learning and then teaching a Christian worldview to others.  If we don’t, if we sit passively in our pews, we’re going to witness the world collapsing – or perhaps I should say finish collapsing – all around us.

     To be a disciple of Jesus Christ is to be able to answer the question, “Who is my Lord?”  Don’t think for a minute that it doesn’t matter.  Amen.   

 

9-13-2009 Sermon by The Rev. Dr. Brian K. Jensen

THAWING THE FROZEN CHOSEN

     There is a website called JARGON DATABASE.COM.  Jargon, of course, is defined as the technical terminology used by a particular group of people.  For example, there is such a thing as political jargon.  Computer programmers certainly have their own unique jargon.  One could even say that there is such a thing as religious jargon.  People outside the faith are not likely to understand what Christians mean when they say sacrificial lamb, regeneration, or even The Apostles’ Creed.

     JARGON DATABASE.COM defines some of our religious jargon.  For example, they explain that a believer’s baptism is a baptism performed on someone who has made a profession   of faith.  To join the choir invisible is to die and to go to heaven.  They also define the term, “God’s Frozen People.”  God’s Frozen People is defined as, “a wry term for Episcopalians; not considered derogatory.”  I’m not so sure about the derogatory part, but that’s what it says.

     JARGON DATABASE.COM also defines the term, “Frozen Chosen.”  In fact, they claim that the term Frozen Chosen is looked up more than any other word.  How do they define Frozen Chosen?  It says this: “Frozen Chosen – Presbyterians.  This particular flavor of the Protestant faith is known fairly accurately for a quiet, reserved manner.”  JARGON DATABASE.COM says that the definition of Frozen Chosen…is Presbyterian.  The question we have to ask is this: Is it true?  More specifically, is it true of our church?

     Now before I get into all of that, I need to tell you a story.  I told this story in a sermon just a few weeks ago, so my apologies to those of you who heard it then.  But once we get to where we’re going this morning, I think you’ll understand why I had to tell it again. 

   His name was Bill.  Bill had wild hair.  He wore a T-shirt with holes in it, tattered jeans and ratty sandals.  This was literally Bill’s wardrobe for his entire four years of college.  But Bill was bright.  And Bill had also become a Christian while he was in college.

     Across the street from his apartment was a very well-to-do and a very prim and proper Presbyterian Church.  Sure, they had talked about welcoming people who were not the same as them, but they weren’t exactly sure how to do so.  One Sunday morning, Bill decided to attend a worship service there.  He walked into the church wearing the very same thing he always wore – a T-shirt with holes in it, tattered jeans and ratty sandals.

     By the time Bill arrived, the service had already started.  Bill walked down the aisle looking for a place to sit, but the people were already in their favorite pews and no one was willing to move over.  By this time, people were getting a bit uncomfortable, but of course, nobody said a word.

     Bill got closer and closer to the pulpit and when he realized there were no seats left, he simply plopped right down on the floor.  The tension in the church was so thick you could have cut it with a knife.  About this time, from the back of the church, an elder started slowly making his way toward Bill.  This elder was in his eighties, had silver hair and wore a three-piece suit – a Godly man – very elegant, very dignified, very refined.  He walked with a cane, and he began making his way toward Bill.  Everyone thought to themselves that you couldn’t really blame the elder for what he was about to do.  How could you expect a man of his age and his back-ground to tolerate some college kid on the floor?

    It seemed to take an eternity for the elder to reach the boy on the floor.  The church was utterly silent except for the clicking of the man’s cane on the floor.  All eyes were focused on him; you could have heard a pin drop.  Even the minister couldn’t start his sermon until the elder did what the elder had to do.

     Then the congregation saw this elderly man drop his cane on the floor. With great difficulty, he lowered himself and sat down next to Bill so he wouldn’t have to worship alone.  Everyone was choked up with emotion.

     The minister then strode to the pulpit and said, “What I’m about to preach, you will likely never remember.  But what you have just seen, you will likely never forget!

     Isn’t that a wonderful story?  I told that story in a sermon a few weeks ago.  Two days later, we received the following e-mail from someone who was there.  Listen closely:

            Dear Dr. Jensen,

This past Sunday, my wife and I and our grandson attended your church for the 8:30 service.  Our grandson recently moved to Meadville and has been looking for a church to regularly attend.  Your church certainly is a beautiful one and we did enjoy your sermon, entitled, Fair Weather Friends.  However, unlike the old elder who sat on the floor alongside the poorly dressed guest, I doubt anyone at this service would do the same.  We were guests at your church, and no one greeted us or made us feel welcome or – in our grandson’s case – suggest that he come again and that they would be glad to have him.  Now perhaps if we would have filled out the cards, etc. that you mentioned, things would have been different.  I doubt this very much.  I was raised in a Presbyterian church, but have attended a Methodist church for the past 50 years.  After attending your church, I’m glad we do.  I’d much rather attend where people are friendly and make an effort to greet strangers and make them feel welcome and at home.

     That’s the letter in a nutshell.  Now please don’t misunderstand.  I tell this not to make anyone feel bad.  I tell this simply to point out the fact that we have a problem.  This, my friends, cannot continue to happen.  I look at it as a wakeup call.  I look at it as a way of thawing the frozen chosen.

     We talked about this letter at a staff meeting and at a session meeting.  We came up with a number of suggestions.  One was nametags – blue ones for members, red ones for visitors.  Another suggestion was that we greet one another during the worship service itself.  Someone suggested that we have a group of people – a group of people who like people, that is – who go around the sanctuary greeting everyone.  Someone suggested better greeter and usher training.  The list goes on and on.

     Thus, we’re going to be doing a greeting every Sunday morning, at both services.  And I’m asking you to please start wearing nametags.  Lyle Schaller, the guru on church growth and leadership in the 1980s, once said that if a church expects to grow, everyone will wear nametags!  So we’ll have blue nametags for members and we’ll have red nametags for visitors.  That way, we’ll be able to identify who’s who.  That way, you can’t walk up to someone and say, “Are you visiting with us this morning?” only to have them retort, “I’ve been a member of this church for 35 years!”  Please, please, please wear the nametags.

     Perhaps the root of our problem is discipleship.  Consider the passage I read from the gospel according to Matthew.  It says, “When Jesus saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd.  Then he said to his disciples, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.’”

     The “harvest” to which Jesus referred are the people God wishes to be a part of his kingdom.  You encounter them every day of your lives in the world, but you especially encounter them when they visit our church.  The laborers are the people who are supposed to bring the people to Christ.  The laborers then were obviously Jesus’ disciples.  Today those laborers are you and me.  We are called to bring people to Christ.  At the very least, we need to welcome the ones who visit our church, don’t you think?

     Glenn McDonald addresses what’s been happening in Protestant churches regarding this issue in his book, The Disciple Making Church.  He writes:

Classically, North American congregations have relied on a single individual to generate church-wide progress in bringing people to Christ.  That person is the pastor.  For roughly 300 years, Protestant pastors have been charged with the spiritual development of everyone within the church’s reach – a mission to be accomplished through preaching, teaching, worship leadership, counseling, direction of appropriate boards and committees, home visitation, correspondence, administration, janitorial duties, praying at civic functions, and whatever other ‘hats’ might be required apparel at a particular church.  The ultimate issue therefore becomes: How can we expose a maximum number of people to the work of our pastor, so that he or she can work a maximum amount of spiritual magic?

     The pastor can’t do it alone.  The pastor can’t be a disciple for you.  Each and every one of you needs to become a disciple yourself.  We’re going to be wrestling with this issue of discipleship in the weeks that lie ahead.  For now, let me just say this.  How can we identify a healthy disciple?  Again, how can we identify a healthy disciple?  A disciple is someone who can answer – with ever-growing conviction and understanding – the following six questions.

1.      Who is your Lord?  In other words, when everything is said and done, whose agenda are you truly following?

2.      Who are you?  At the beginning of each day, do you wake up thinking you’ll have to go out and win your own share of security and significance, or can you truly say that those are priceless gifts you have already received?

3.      Who is your Barnabas?  Barnabas spoke up for the Apostle Paul and was something of a mentor to him.  Who is your spiritual mentor, the one from whom you are learning how to follow Jesus Christ?

4.      Who is your Timothy?  Paul was something of a mentor to Timothy.  Who is your apprentice, the one to whom you are passing along the lessons that God has entrusted you?

5.      Where is your Antioch?  What small group of friends is helping you to discern God’s will for your life?

6.      Where is your Macedonia?  What field of ministry is most closely aligned with God’s call on your life and hauntingly stirs your deepest passion?

          As we wrestle with these questions and seek God’s answers to them in the weeks that lie ahead, perhaps our church will become a different kind of place.  Perhaps we’ll start to become better disciples ourselves.  Perhaps we’ll even begin thawing the frozen chosen.  Amen.