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.
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