To what shall I compare this book?
It is like rummaging through the attic of the family homestead. Peculiar artifacts from past generations (not catalogued but left helter-skelter) catch our eye and invite us to remember or laugh or wonder.
It is like paging through the stash of old church photo directories. We gape at the snapshots of change that hop over decades, seeing babies morph into youth, adults, and patriarchs of the congregation.
It is like listening to our elders reminisce. We are wise to hear their insights, but we are also wise to discern the notes of nostalgia and sentimentality in their lyrics of the good old days.
It is like engaging in dinner-table discussions about how the Church has ended up in its current situation. Each voice has some truth to contribute about the decline of membership, Christian education, and sanctified living, although no one explanation can encompass the entire story of the birth and death of Christian congregations.
It is like strolling through the church graveyard – as the overarching imagery of the book intends. Each headstone calls us to imagine the particular person who lived and died, who was known by others, who was part of the body of Christ in that place, whose joys and sorrows made up a life.
It is like living in the Church on earth. All Christendom is inextricably intertwined, though each of us glimpses only certain hours of others’ lives. Here we see in part and know in part, but in eternity we shall know fully and be fully known.
In every comparison, the eclectic parts speak of an unfathomable whole, and that is truly what The Saints of Whistle Grove presents. Its episodic, achronological telling requires the reader to pay close attention while simultaneously relinquishing himself to enjoy each scene. For, while the style invokes a sense of mystery, nudging the reader to figure out how all the people and events fit together, this is no pat puzzle to be completed. Rather, it is an assortment of pieces that intersect to give an impression of the whole even though gaps remain unfilled. This is, ultimately, the story of a church, not of certain people. Yet, paradoxically, the church is nothing without those individual persons.
As a lover of history—national history, local history, church history, personal history—this book engaged both my heart and mind. Mrs. Schuermann clearly invested much historical research into her writing, along with her signature love of human beings as dear creations of God. She manages to give us scenes that encapsulate key points in the history of the Lutheran Church—Missouri Synod while never neglecting the poignancy of particular humanity in every era.
And this balance is what allows the book as a whole to reach toward the profound. While, on the one hand, we are drawn toward the resurrection of the dead and the life everlasting that awaits the ever-growing Church Triumphant, on the other hand we are asked to wrestle with the reality of the starkly declining North American church as seen now by the Church Militant. Mrs. Schuermann expertly presents events and ideologies that have contributed to the decline of the Church in America without preaching or pretending to have a full diagnosis of the problems. This approach allows readers to ponder the past that has formed them, along with their own shortcomings in the present. But more importantly, it sets the stage for conversations among Christians that edify the body of Christ toward growth rather than atrophy.