WASECA — The view from Pastor Cary Larson’s office overlooks picturesque Loon Lake in Waseca.

Its south shore is mere yards away — perfectly convenient for some old-time baptisms, he says.

He offers this as a fleeting joke as he accompanies a visitor on a tour of the fledgling Christ the King Lutheran Church, whose founding was anything but a joking matter.

Last year the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America went one way and a chunk of its membership went the other over a conflict involving — but not limited to — the denomination’s decision to allow non-celibate homosexuals to serve as clergy.

A year later, the upshot of the schismatic cleaving has shaken out this way: The ELCA, with 4.5 million members the largest Lutheran body in the United States, has lost nearly 91,000 members and 48 congregations.

Some have joined other Lutheran synods and associations, but Christ the King remains unaffiliated and members remain unabashed about their decision to sever ties with the ELCA.

“We felt the ELCA left us,” Church Council President Richard “Butch” Dufault says of what he and others view as a denomination action tantamount to a rejection of biblical teachings.

The theological shorthand of it all is that a faction of former ELCA members have acted on broader grave concerns that the denomination is no longer faithful to the historic teachings of the Church.

Larson contends the gay-clergy issue is “just the nose of the camel in the tent” in the ELCA’s liberal drift.

Church Council Vice President Greg Easton agrees:

“We really are a group of people who don’t believe God gave us a vote on his word. They’re his rules, not ours.”

The group grew out of meetings last year involving members of Waseca ELCA church Grace Lutheran. Dufault said talk of dissent began almost immediately following the historic ELCA vote.

Eventually, Grace members took a vote and Easton says more than 75 percent chose to remain with the ELCA.

The founding members of the new church clearly felt otherwise, though they say they harbor no ill will toward Grace’s pastor and its people. Grace pastor Roger Haug declined to comment for this article.

 Statistics show that about 3 percent of ELCA’s membership nationwide has opted to move outside the denomination, though Christ the King members say they’re uneasy about being labeled as “mavericks” and a “breakaway” church.

Easton says it’s simply a group of people seeking a return to the church’s underpinnings.

“We’re going back to our roots. We did basically the same thing Martin Luther did when he overthrew the bishops and hierarchy and turned back to the word of God.”

 Adds Larson, “This isn’t a bunch of grumpy people who have cut themselves off and are living on some separatist ideology.”  

 About three dozen people gathered in the Waseca County Courthouse annex last fall for the group’s first service that was headed by retired 82-year-old founding pastor Raymond Peterson.

In March they moved into their new quarters in a former insurance agency building. Members’ talents and sweat equity have transformed the interior — “We had the perfect storm of skill sets,” Easton says — and donations of appliances and other wares has been so voluminous that a screening committee was created to head off the surplus.  

“The communal spirit is high here because we’re all like-minded,” Dufault says of a congregation that has pledged to give 12 percent of its offering revenues each month to international and community mission endeavors.

The church’s first major purchase — $12,000 — went for 220 padded chairs for the sanctuary. The church now numbers 140 members and expansion plans already are in the works, Dufault says.

Larson, who formerly served churches in the New Richland area, was installed at Christ the King in early August and was among more than 40 pastor applicants.

He says he struggled mightily over his decision to separate from the ELCA, recalling the interior monologue he waged:

“OK, so things are getting tough. Is it time to bail? When you take your faith seriously, you just don’t turn and run away.”

But ultimately, he says the bedrock convictions of his faith made his choice become clear.

“A lot of people just want to get back to the basics of their faith. In these times people yearn for fundamental truths, and that’s what we’re all about. God’s word needs to be taken in its entirety, not treated as a smorgasbord.”