HIS ROBE BILLOWED in the wind as he stood atop the hay rack on a stunningly beautiful spring Sunday morning in southwestern Minnesota. A simple wooden table adorned with a gold cross formed a makeshift altar behind him.
To the south, vehicles filled the parking lot next to a farm field bordering the Redwood River. Across the river bridge, more fields and farm sites define the landscape, including my childhood farm a half-mile distant.
I visualized this rural scene as I focused on my computer screen. I watched the Rev. Adam Manian prepare to lead Sunday morning worship services outside St. John’s Lutheran Church, the church where I was baptized, confirmed, married, and have attended weddings and funerals of many loved ones.
It seemed fitting that the pastor would preach from atop a hay rack backed up to the church entry. This place in Minnesota is through and through rural, centered on agriculture. It is also a place centered by church and its importance in the faith lives of most and in the social fabric of the Vesta community. I can only imagine how much locals—including aunts, uncles and cousins—miss gathering at St. John’s. I miss seeing my faith family, too, at Trinity Lutheran in Faribault.
During these weeks of social-distancing, stay-at-home orders and the need to protect our most vulnerable and each other, churches have gotten creative in continuing with worship. On this first Sunday in May, the pastor of this very rural congregation in a community of some 300 launched drive-in worship. Worshipers sat in their vehicles and tuned in to 102.1 FM on their radios while he led the service. And 120 miles away to the east, I booted up my computer and watched live-streaming of St. John’s service.
It did my heart and soul good to see that on this Sunday, “Good Shepherd Sunday,” the pastor at my hometown church was tending his flock—providing for their spiritual needs through the familiarity of liturgy, beloved hymns, preaching and prayers. What a blessing, especially to the many seniors in the congregation who now find themselves isolated, alone, separated from loved ones. An aunt even washed her car in preparation for Sunday’s service.
I thought back to decades earlier when my paternal great grandparents, Rudolph and Matilda Kletscher, arrived here and St. John’s grew from a mission church that met in their farm home. My faith is rooted here, in this church, in this place, among these prairie people.
As Rev. Manian preached, I noticed the wind, ever-present in this landscape of wide open space. His robes billowed. His audio caught the wind. The camera shook on occasion. Tree branches swayed. Birds flew and some chirped in morning birdsong. It was as if creation joined in worship.
Occasionally I heard the start of a motor, presumably to run the air conditioning.
And when the pastor’s family, inside the sanctuary, sang “Have No Fear, Little Flock,” I experienced such a connection to St. John’s, such a renewed sense of confidence that we will get through this COVID-19 crisis, that God stays close beside us, that we are all in this together.
I realized, too, that we are writing stories every day of overcoming, of adapting, of being here for one another, of resilience. We are writing stories of hope and of community. These are our stories. Faith stories. Community stories. Personal stories. Stories connected by the commonality of living during a global pandemic.
Thank you to my cousin Lori for tipping me off to St. John’s drive-in worship service.
© Copyright 2020 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Your “renewed sense of confidence that we will get through this COVID-19 crisis, that God stays close beside us, that we are all in this together” is shared by many of us who experienced long-distance worshiping last Sunday. Thank God for our clergy who are using their creativity, ingenuity, and tenacity to help us remain faithful and hopeful followers during this pandemic. Lord, help us all! ❤
Thank you, Jan, for sharing your thoughts. Have a blessed week.
Lovely, Audrey! Thanks for sharing. These rural churches were and are such a blessing to the families they serve.
You are welcome, Liz. I absolutely agree about the blessings of these rural churches.
What a wonderful way to preach Gods word….out in His creation. I’m sure that was fun to watch.
I enjoyed the service. This afternoon I called one of my aunts and she was there, in the front row, grey car. She is very happy to be with her faith family for Sunday morning worship, even if they all have to stay in their vehicles.
There are so many stories of hope and this is such a great example of it. It is such an odd time but seeing how churches and other places are adapting fills my heart with happiness. We can still be together even if it is not in the ways that we used to be together. I miss hugs. A lot. But for the safety and care of others I refrain, wear a mask and keep my distance. It is a season of our lives that hopefully will ease up and we can experience what we think is a more normal way to live. Sending all the love your way.
You are so right in that this is a story of hope. I, too, miss the hugs and the gatherings with friends and family. But, for now, I do what I must to keep myself and others safe. Love to you, too, my friend!
Wonderful posting that is insightful and thoughtful. I like how you were able to place yourself right in the service and share your thoughts with readers. It is obvious you put a lot of thought into your writing for this one as your connections ran strong and deep.
Thank you, Sue. When writing this, I stepped into that church parking lot and I looked around me. I saw the details of this prairie place and then I connected it all to what St. John’s means to me and others.
What a great connection with the church you grew up in. Definitely a story of hope.
I was so happy my cousin shared with me about the drive-in worship so I could in turn share this blessing with all of you. I put myself in that parking lot last Sunday morning.
Beautiful post. This especially touched me as my weekends have started with services Sat. late, extend into Monday’s before I get through them all. I step back into churches of Faribault and the various churches that have been part of my long time in the cities. It’s getting way too long of no “live” corporate (guess we call it community now) worship, being able to share the “peace of the Lord” in person, feel a handshake or hug, SING!. I’m thrilled Trinity has an intern coming, looks like a cutie. I remember when Dale Young came, breathed new life into the youth ministry, went on to confirm, marry me, be a lifelong friend. Nancy is obviously making a special contribution of talent and energy. I shutter to think that, if sports events don’t resume, can churches possibly? Pray I’m wrong.
I can relate to the difficulty of separation from church family. I miss them so much, as you obviously also do.
The young man coming to Trinity is graduating from sem and will become our full-time associate pastor.
The current building was erected after we left Vesta, but the pictures of it and the area fill me with a sense of nostalgia for the place. It marked a beginning for my husband and me, and will always be close to my heart. Thank you and God bless you. Laurine Jannusch
Laurine, it’s good to hear from you and also to hear your sweet words about St. John’s and Vesta.