July 11, 2010 - Union State Line Lutheran Church in Petersburg, MN

Several months ago I told my mom about my plan to visit 13 different congregations during my sabbatical. She suggested that I visit some of the churches that had been important to my ancestors, including Union State Line Lutheran Church in Petersburg, Minnesota. This is the church that my Grandpa Gilbert (her dad) grew up in.

This grandpa died a few years ago and he was a great and interesting person: funny, smart, opinionated, judgmental, talented and honestly kind of a crank in his old age. This grandpa was a hardcore Republican, who always and only got his news from FOX News (fair and balanced). He liked to talk politics and was constantly disappointed and mystified by my mother’s liberal tendencies.

I knew him as a mature Christian and a lifelong Lutheran. Fifty years ago, he helped plant trees at the “new” Lutheran Lakeside Camp near Spirit Lake. He served on his congregation’s church council and building teams. Grandpa had a special relationship with his pastors. He couldn’t believe that they got a book allowance and continuing education time and vacations! He often accused them of getting their sermons out of a book of sermons, and he liked to joke that they only worked one day a week. If you remember Dan Lindquist, my grandpa was a lot like him. All joking aside, I think grandpa generally liked his pastors and was liked by them in return.

Over the years Grandpa told me several stories involving his childhood church experiences. During worship, he would often sit with his own ‘ancient’ grandpa (Anderson), who was hard of hearing and would pull out a gold pocket-watch periodically to see if the service was running long. My grandpa said he could remember exactly where he stood when he was quizzed by his pastor before being confirmed. And my favorite story of all was how when he was a teenager, grandpa and one of his friends stole a half a bottle of communion wine from the church and skipped worship to go skinny dipping in the east fork of the Des Moines River. What they forgot to consider in this otherwise well thought out plan, was that after worship the pastor would be shaking hands on the front steps of the church with a clear view to the river. And on that particular Sunday, the pastor could clearly see two slightly drunk boys skinny dipping in the river.

So I happily made plans to attend worship at Grandpa Gilbert’s childhood church in Petersburg, Minnesota on Sunday, July 11. The congregation was founded in 1871, with their present building being dedicated in 1921. Today they have 128 baptized members and average weekly worship attendance of 40.

Finding the worship time was frustrating. The church’s phone number was listed incorrectly on the ELCA webpage. Being a very small church, they don’t have a webpage of their own. When I got the right phone number and called it, there was no answer and no answering machine. I called the Southwestern Minnesota Synod office, but they didn’t know the worship time and couldn’t find it. Finally, I called a neighboring church whose secretary knew someone who attended Union State Line Lutheran Church. After a couple of phone calls, I was told that worship would be at 10:45 am. Coffee was usually served before worship at 10.

I know it’s hard to be a small church; I served one during my internship. And I’m sure that I have often taken for granted all the ways in which we try to communicate our service times: the answering machine, the banner next to the highway, and our webpage. Finding the worship time for this particular congregation has reminded me how important all of that is. I was a highly motivated visitor, so I kept looking for the time and finally found it; but what if I wasn’t high motivated? How hard would I have looked before giving up?

But that was the only frustration of the trip; the rest was pure joy.

We arrived early enough to walk through the cemetery and pay our respects to grandpa and grandma, and grandpa’s parents and grandparents. The cemetery is just a couple miles south of Petersburg and was the location of the original church. I saw a lot of churches with the cemetery in the front yard when I was in Germany a few years ago. Honestly I like the feel of it. It’s like the living and the dead are still together on Sunday mornings. After worship, children can be found playing among the markers of their ancestors.

We arrived at the church in time for coffee and treats in the basement. We were greeted warmly with several people getting up to welcome us and offer us a chair. When those gathered found out about my mom’s connection to Petersburg, it was almost like a family reunion. One person even remembered working in the old creamery with my mom’s grandma. Everyone was very nice and very welcoming.

Then we went upstairs for church. The un-air-conditioned sanctuary was beautiful: big and bright and old-fashioned. Its features included oak pews, stained glass windows, a bell ringing to announce the start of worship, a high pulpit, an ornate baptismal font, curved communion rail, balcony, hard wood floors, large front doors, oscillating fans and a very pleasant sound system. The sanctuary could hold 200 people, not including the balcony. On our Sunday, there were about 50 people in worship with a surprisingly nice mix of ages, from the very old to the very young.

The service was a traditional non-communion setting out of the green hymnal (LBW). The pastor was a young woman with a bright and cheerful manner. She serves two different churches in the area and was young enough to make me think this was probably her first-call. She gave a very fine sermon, one of the best I’ve heard this summer. It was simple and clear and full of the good news!

I’m a little biased, but I think there is something really powerful about a first-call pastor. After four years in seminary, they are really happy to finally be pastors. They are less cynical about congregations and more hopeful about the future. They tend to be ready to try new things and their enthusiasm is contagious. Congregations seem more willing to gracefully accept the gifts and short-comings of a new pastor. Anyway, this pastor and congregation had a really nice spirit on display on the Sunday we visited.

I wish Holy Communion would have been served, because I really wanted to kneel at that altar rail. It was something more than a half-circle, which was common in Scandinavian churches. Parishioners were told to imagine the back half of the circle filled by their ancestors in eternity. So, it would have been nice to have communion with my grandpa and his grandpa, maybe on another Sunday.

My grandpa once told me that he knew why I was a pastor. It was because his own mother (Clara) had once thought he should consider being a pastor. Perhaps the whole skinny dipping episode cured them both of that dream. In any event, Union State Line Lutheran Church has been important in my family’s life and I’m thankful for this congregation: then and now.

Peace,

Pastor

PS -- Don't miss the photos of Union State Line Lutheran Church that are a separate post.