What is the rupture of the church?

Well, I guess you're old enough to hear the truth.

You may have heard of the church plant of '03. Honestly, that phrase, "church plant," is a reframing of what really happened. The truth is much more complicated.

It began when Pastor Ollie Swenson arrived as the interim pastor at Willow River Evangelical Free Church in Valentine, Nebraska. He was only supposed to be with us for six months—eight tops—while we looked for a replacement for Reverend Thoreson who had been our pastor for 74 years and only retired when he fell asleep in the middle of the sermon. He'd been falling asleep during sermons for years, but not while he was preaching. This time, he slid off the lectern and landed at the feet of elder Andersen who, himself, jerked awake and accidentally kicked Reverend Thoreson who tumbled down the stairs, hitting his head on the moulding of the communion table. You remember—the one with the big plaque on the front saying, "In Remembrance of Him," and the little plaque on the side saying, "In Remembrance of Thomas Affolson."

Reverend Thoreson's retirement came as quite the shock, although the deaconesses admitted it was time we find a preacher who didn't start snoring before the third point of the sermon. Sue Ellen's daughter, Tylyr—you remember, the girl so good at Photoshop—offered to set up an account with Church Employee Finder to get us a suitable replacement. She was shocked, I can tell you, when the next Sunday she found herself the leader of the search committee! Also on the committee were Peter Peterson, Eunice Eklund, Claire Johnson, and Maggie Nyberg. Old Peter thought since he was an elder he'd run roughshod over the whole committee. He didn't expect the women to have their own minds, the codger. Meanwhile, Eunice had quietly found Pastor Ollie as for our interim pastor. Poor Tylyr did a good job, but she was gone to Manhattan Christian College in Manhattan, Kansas, and back again before the committee could agree on a job description, especially since everyone liked Pastor Ollie so well.

Until that day.

It was Christmastime, you see. Pastor Ollie had been interim for seven years by then. The Christmas decorating committee had gotten snowed in while skiing at Schweitzer in Sandpoint, Idaho, so Ollie's wife Helen decided to give them a nice surprise and finish the decorating by the time they got back. Everything went well enough until she unboxed the Christmas tree lights. She noticed the wires were all frayed and half the lights were blown out. They don't make replacements for those anymore, you know. So she went down to the Target and bought some nice, new twinkling white mini lights. Real classy.

She didn't know that those original lights had been donated by Freida Jorgenson's great-grandmother shortly after the church got electricity. Freida got home from the ski trip, lift pass still clipped to her hand-knit anorak, entered the foyer, and noticed something different about the tree. She clomped her walker over, her face getting redder with each clomp, until she could see the lights through her cataracts.

Who knew the 93-year-old could still bellow like a bull moose?

The deaconesses' meeting that evening was quite the to-do, I can tell you! Helen tried to explain about fire hazards and insurance premiums, but Freida wouldn't hear it. Fortunately, Gwen Lundborg distracted the old biddie by asking her about her frog-eye salad recipe with stuffed pimentos, and the committee voted to move the old lights to the nativity display outside. The next day, Freida confronted Pastor Ollie about the changes, but of course he was just an interim and couldn't overrule the deaconesses. Plus, he had to call 911 as the Wise Men had caught fire.

That was just the beginning! The new lights were so bright Lizzie Fogelberg noticed how shabby the carpet was. Hester Nyquist said it was just fine, but Libby Engvall showed the committee how the Scotchgard had worn off and no matter how hard she scrubbed, she couldn't clean Reverend Thoreson's blood from the carpet round the communion table. Aaron was supposed to sprinkle blood on the Ark of the Covenant, but the only blood at our Lord's table should be Welches! Eventually the committee agreed new carpet was in order, but then came the discussion about color and nap. Then Heidi Mattson mentioned if they had to remove the pews to replace the carpet, they should refinish them and get cushions. Gertie Hansen about lost her teeth when she heard the cost.

And this was before Tylyr's sister Myra brought in the djembe and started playing with the choir.

Freida, Gertie, and Hester tried to fight back. Pastor Ollie was no help, so they invited themselves to the next elders' meeting. Imagine their surprise when they found the men sitting on new leather couches, watching old Ben Thompsen at the new coffee cart put a flourish on Jan Wallin's spice cookie caramel latte. The old women realized they'd already lost. They collected their reluctant husbands and a few others and started a new church at the old White Knight's Pizza Buffet on Central. They haven't come up with a name yet, so everyone calls it "Central."

Technically, it's a church plant, I suppose. They were too proud to call it a split. A rupture seems more accurate—like a fissure in the earth that spews hot lava onto unsuspecting passers-by.

A year later, Tylyr was finally able to get the search committee to agree on a job description, and Vernon Lindstrom became the new pastor at Willow River Evangelical Free Church. I hear the church on Central is still looking for a pastor. The district offered to help, but when Ollie Swenson was offered the position, Helen put her foot down. She says she really likes Willow River and it'll take the death of her body or the rapture of the church to get her to leave.

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