The
Rev. Ola Åke Nelson
1855-1926
This is
an autobiographical sketch written by a pioneer pastor of the former
Augustana Lutheran Synod. In the year 1920 Ola wrote this interesting and
revealing story about his about his family, his spiritual awakening as a
young man in Sweden, about his immigration, and about his continued
religious pilgrimage in the United States. Dr. Clifford Ansgar Nelson,
Ola’s son, found these writings among his father’s papers long after
his death. He translated them from Swedish to English and added all the
phrases that are in parenthesis, adding his own recollections and insight
into his father’s life story.
My
home in Sweden was in the little community of Qviinge, in the
province
of Skåne, Sweden .In the late summer of 1855, on the 28th of
August,
there was born to Åke and Anna
Nilsson, a son, who in baptism was
named Ola Åkesson.
((The
church records show that he was baptized the day following. The pastor
explained that perhaps he was ill at the time of birth.)
I have no special remembrances of my earliest years. The first
memory that I have is about children playing together. In the same house
where we lived there was another family dwelling there. This family had
two children, about my age, who used to come into our rooms and play. One
day when they came to visit us, I remember the little girl who even though
she was younger than her brother, seemed to have more sense than he. She
said to her brother, “Don’t you know that you must take off your cap
when you come into a neighbor’s house?” Then they stayed and played.
This is my earliest memory. When I was older, I remember my family telling
me about my mother, who died when I was between 4 and 5 years of age, that
she was a pious and Godly woman. Unfortunately, I have no memory of her,
of her ever teaching me, or of her faith. Probably she thought I was too
young to teach, I can not say. Many times in my life I have grieved for
her. And I have wished that she might have lived and could have talked to
me about God. An old lady in our neighborhood told me that my mother had
hoped that I would learn to read and that she prayed to God for my soul.
Often I have thanked God that He has heard her prayers.
 My
parents were poor people, but I can not remember that we did not have food
and clothing at any time. But my father was seldom at home. Our home in
the old feudal system was part of a large estate known as Wästerslöf.
The owner was Baron Wachtmeister, and the manor house was called Wanås
Slott. Since the people who lived on the grounds were dependent on the
owner, they had to pay their rent by providing a worker three days of the
week, or one of my older brothers had to be there constantly. Father, at
that time, was the driver of a large horse drawn wagon that transported
goods from place to place throughout the land. There were no railroads at
that time as now. It was a temptation for those drivers, at that time, to
indulge in using hard liquor. My father often came home in a drunken
stupor. How fortunate that my children, by God’s grace, have not had to
live through this. Once when papa came home and mother had prepared a meal
for him, I begged to be able to sit at the table. But I grumbled about the
food and father gave me a hard licking on my hind end. No doubt, this was
the right thing for him to do because it seldom happened again.
After mother’s death in 1860, it
was my next oldest sister who was in charge of the household. I have some
childish memories of those years. Much of my learning period was wasted. I
had little respect for my elders and the obedience taught me. My sister
was very sensitive. She couldn’t bear to punish me, even if I deserved
it. Mother had told the family to be kind to me when she was on her
deathbed. Either I had heard my mother say these words or she had told me.
But when my brothers or sisters wanted to punish me, I would remind them
of those words and they would stop the discipline.
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My first teaching was from my
youngest sister. She sat at the spinning wheel and I stood by her side.
She taught me how to read. Thank you, dear sister! During this time papa
was seldom at home. When I was in my 7th year, I was to go to
the schoolhouse in our town. I was told some time before the opening day.
It made me very happy. That day my sister, Svenborg (she later lived in
Floyd, Iowa as Mrs. Charles Colson) was to accompany me to the
schoolhouse. I got up early that day. All went well until after the
morning prayers. Then the schoolmaster, whose name was Humlin, began to
use his rod on some of the children. I was frightened and started to cry
and begged my sister to take me home. But the teacher gave me a seat next
to a neighbor boy. All was well and the time went pleasantly the rest of
the day. When I later in the day came home, my father was at home and he
asked me many questions about what I had learned and how I had enjoyed it.
I can still remember how proud I was to answer him, and how big I felt
myself to be because I had been in school. When he asked me if I wanted to
return to school the next day, I answered “Yes” with all my heart
because with the teacher’s friendly and encouraging words, the man who
had seemed so forbidding at first had become a dear friend. From the first
years of my schooling, I have nothing but happy memories. Reading
abilities went in good progress and many times I was honored in my class.
Once when I was given promotions beyond that of my brother, who was 5
years older than I, it made me have great sympathy of him. He had such
difficulty in learning, it took away all my joy. That was true also when I
was promoted beyond the schoolmaster’s own son who was my age and was a
gifted boy.
At home they were talking about my
excellent ability to read and my father talked about taking me to the
bishop to give me the opportunity to study. But I had a terrible fear of
the bishop and at the thought of higher learning, I thought about my
poverty. One of the hired hands and that was the first one I remembered,
after I read to him said, “You should be a priest.” That was a
prophecy that, at the time, seemed far-fetched. But by the wonderful
guidance of God this has become a reality. It is wonderful how the
innocence of childhood cam be swept away by other children and also by our
being with older people. How happy my early years were! O blessed memories
of childhood! Without bragging, I think I was a good child and a joy to my
family because these earliest memories are not clouded with many dark and
unhappy things that filled my mind.
(At this point there is a loss of
a page of the copy)
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I
went through a period of childish teenage carelessness that seemed to end
up with severe restraints and memories of punishments. I was not long the best reader, but went through an
adolescent carefree period. I
had little interest in schooling. I
stayed with my class but that was all.
My teachers often punished me.
This lasted over a period of several years.
But then came an awakening in our family. I was about 12 years old. It was at a meeting of the “readers”, as they were known
in those days (“ett läsare möte”) in our home one Sunday afternoon
when I was deeply moved by the Word of God.
They asked me why I wept. I
could not reply with an adequate explanation, except to say that I wanted
to be a child of God. That
summer I went with my sister-in-law and our housemaid often to the
gatherings of the “readers”. That
was a happy time; a time full of hope in my young heart.
Then I began to talk with my friends in planning for the future.
They would be talking about their often evil plans, but I withstood
them and told them I wanted to be a God fearing person and wanted to do
what was good and right. We
young folks were often together because each morning and evening, a whole
group of youngsters in our neighborhood had to drive our cattle out to
pasture, about 3 miles away. That
was the task of the children.
 My
good intentions did not last very long, which means that I lost my better
motives and aims that had begun in my soul.
Then there followed a few years in the sleep in sin.
By one or another manner, I did not commit course transgressions,
but in my inner self I was thinking wrong and evil.
Thus my child hood proceeded.
During my confirmation lessons, I did not feel any inward movements
of the spirit. That is not
strange because I never remember the pastor (Prosten Cederborg) speaking
to us about the spiritual life. He
heard our rote recitations from the catechism and a few questions that he
had put together himself, the answers to which we children were to
memorize. As far as I can
remember, his teaching consisted in a kind of moral exhortation.
The day that we were to be confirmed, I remember my father gave me
a big hug and said: “My
boy, think about what you are going today.”
It was with a loud shout that he spoke.
When confirmation was over, I
forgot both the lessons learned and the church.
My sister-in-law said to me that I was living like a heathen.
This disturbed me, so much so that I began to go to church more
regularly. In this manner the
years went by until I was ready to do my compulsory military training.
In order to get out of the military training, like so many others,
I planned a journey to America. I
was urged to do that by my brother, Abraham who already had gone to the
United States. But in that winter I caught a cold that led to lung fever and
then to pneumonia. For that
reason I was not able to immigrate that year.
During my illness I was deeply
sought by the Lord but no real commitment of faith was made to God.
Instead, I was still in my sinful state, but not as before.
I had a real fear about judgement but at the same time, there was a
growing desire to become a Christian.
That yearning kept developing within me.
I began to turn to prayer in times of distress.
During this time, I went to many of the gatherings of lay readers
and learned from them much of what it was to be a Christian.
My eagerness to go to America began to stir in me again and this
time it became a reality. After
most of my clothes and belongings were sold at an auction, I lived through
the saying of farewell to friends and family and the land that had
nourished me. The land that
had enfolded my forebears was to be left behind for good.
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I remember as though it were
yesterday when my oldest brother was to drive me to the nearest train
station and I had to say farewell forever to him.
He has finished his life now.
The last words my beloved sister-in-law said to me were, “Turn to
the Lord when you are in need.” These
words stayed in my mind, and sooner than I thought, they were alive in my
adventure. Soon I met the
passengers at the dock in Gothenburg.
I knew none of them, but we soon made acquaintance.
In Copenhagen, we procured our tickets all the way to Chicago. Weather-wise, it was a beautiful journey.
(I
remember my father saying that the sea voyage took nearly three weeks in a
relatively small vessel that was propelled both by sail and motor.
The landing evidently was in New York.
This was before the advent of Ellis Island.
No mention is made of this.)
It was an immigrant journey.
In Chicago we stayed only two days.
From that city we traveled to Fort County, Illinois where we sought
work on the so-called Sylvan’s farm.
In the town of Gibson we were welcomed and received by a family by
the name of Molin, through one of my friends.
Our stay at Sylvan’s farm lasted only two weeks.
Then we turned our travel to my sister’s home in Dubuque, Iowa,
where I remained a couple of months.
At this time, which was not without its anxieties, I began to
diligently read my New Testament. In
Iowa there was no Swedish church near where I was living.
In the little town of Peosta where my sister lived, I found work
and lived for a short time. After
my stay there, I traveled to Welch Minnesota where by brother Abraham
lived.
That trip I remember well.
My brother-in-law treated me to a glass of beer but ¾ of it went
into the sewer. It was a
night’s journey and all went well and I arrived in Red Wing, Minnesota
early the next day. The idea
was that I was to arrive for the harvest season but most of it was
finished by the time I came. Later
in the morning there was a big ruddy Irishman who took me to his home.
It was worse that I had imagined and I was glad the second morning
when he drove me back to Red Wing. There
I met a certain watchmaker who hired me to work on his thrashing machine.
That was my music until the autumn was ended.
This was my first summer in the new land of America.
To use my time during the winter,
I went through the school year to learn English and to complete my studies
in the public school. I went
through the grades with children much younger than I,
I worked for my board and room at the home of Andrew Olson in
Cannon River. During my stay
there, I came to know Pastor Aron Wahlin.
He was a fiery preacher, and he became the means, through the grace
of God, to set me spiritually straight.
From the very beginning, his sermons made a deep impression on me.
It was the third Sunday in Lent, 1880 that something of a spiritual
release gave way in me as he preached about the Canaanitish woman.
That moment I will never forget.
I worked for Andrew Olson for a year.
This was the happiest year I had ever had.
My heart rejoiced constantly in the blessings I enjoyed in the
Lord.
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During the winter of 1881, a
revival occurred in Cannon Falls. It spread soon to all the neighboring
churches and meeting after meeting was called. Many evenings were spent
that winter in the Cannon Falls church and Pastor Wahlin began to ask my
help. This was the beginning of my first spiritual activity. A kind of
conversation was carried on in the pews in such a way that the seeking
souls talked with us. It was a movement that gripped both young and old.
My hope is that many of the people from that time have found their eternal
home at the throne of the Lamb.
In the spring I received a call
from the Cannon Falls congregation to teach in their school for two
months. I accepted and that became my first work as a teacher. My learning
was not great, but I made up for it in my eagerness to be of help. After
the school year was over, I went back to farm work, but without peace of
mind. An idea, which was new, had taken hold of me and that was that I
must continue to study. Pastor Wahlin had said to me, “You have a good
head for reading” and you ought to go to college and prepare yourself of
the ministry." It was not easy to make up my mind and again some time
was spent in uncertainty. But when Dr. Hasselquist (founding father of the
Aqustana Synod) in the summer of 1883 preached in Moorhead, Minnesota the
problem was solved. I spoke with him after the Sunday worship. He
encouraged me, and I promised God that if there were no hindrances in my
way I would make my way to the college that fall. I was enrolled at
Gustavus Adolphus College in St. Peter, Minnesota in September of 1883.
Those were wonderful years. We students were poor but a group of us lived
in the room at the top of the tower of Old Main. Money was short.
Sometimes we ate bread with molasses and drank milk or coffee. Since I had
done some preaching, I was asked by the President to preach. My f9irst
sermon was given in a small church outside of Morhead, Minnesota. During
that first Christmas season, my comrade A. P. Fors and I traveled together
and preached in Makato and Belgrade, Minnesota and Hudson, Wisconsin. As a
follow up, I was asked to preach in Hudson once a month of the following
year, and to teach summer school in Belgrade. In Hudson I made a casual
acquaintance with a Baptist minister whose name was Lindberg. The
congregations had called him to preach once a moth also. All went well for
a while but he decided to stay two weeks at a time and in his sermons he
tried to denigrate the Lutherans. That was too much for me and the next
time I came, I opposed his teachings. The result was that our people no
longer wished to hear him and he must cease making his visits. Late in the
summer he returned and asked forgiveness for his lack knowledge. The
people of Hudson were kind to me. Then Dr. Wahlstrom, the President of
Gustavus sent me out on other preaching assignments.
The four years that I spent at
Gustavus were very happy ones for me. Many older pious students came to
the College at that time and we really had pleasant times together. In
general ita can be said about college life that it is a pleasant and a
happy time.
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In 1878 I was enrolled at our
Augustana Seminary in Rock Island, Illinois. I had many expectations. It
must be said that the teachings of Dr. T. N. Hasselquist, Olof Olsson and
Weidner were enthusiastically received. Our class lost great deal in our
second year when Dr. Olsson was on a leave of absence in Europe. It was
solid and mature instruction in Biblical Theology that we received.
Especially the first two named above where loved and appreciated. Their
teaching nourished our souls and it has remained a treasure to us all
through The years of our ministries. Our seminary class had 20 members.
The best known were Peter M. Lindberg, Ernest A. Zetterstrand, and Carl A.
Hultkrans. ON the whole, all of us have worked hard and found success
beyond our expectations. Those who have followed certain trends in
churchmanship have found their various ways of serving God. I hope that
one day we shall find ourselves in a better seminary and can answer then
the searching examinations questions of our Lord on that last great day.
On June 16, 1889 we were ordained into the holy ministry at First Lutheran
Church in Moline, Illinois. After that final service, it was a matter of
traveling in many different directions to our designated churches.
 I
had a call from the church in Princeton, Illinois. This was considered a
tough assignment because of long-standing feuds and stubborn board
members. They had a very old and very ugly church building. During many
years, and frequently, they had talked of building a new church, but
because of internal strife nothing has come from those discussions. I knew
very well of the internal problems and I tried to keep myself above their
petty wrangling. After about a year of faithful work and prayer, there was
a large awakening of spiritual interest in the congregations. It had
started especially among the young people of the parish. After twenty-five
years, I still hear fine witnesses from those who were touched at that
time. This was a very happy and satisfying time for me.
During this time of spiritual
renewal, the idea of building a new church was again awakened. The old
feuds began again, but now the number of the stubborn conservatives was so
small that they could not stop the way of progress. Once when we attended
a conference meeting in Peoria, one of the opposition leaders waked with
me on the streets of the city and we looked at a fine new Methodist
church. He admired the new building and said to me, “Pastor, if we could
erect a splendid church like that , I would be very much in favor of the
new building. “ That was all * needed. As soon as we returned, I
proposed the project, and soon we were in the business of constructing the
new edifice. Before long our congregation had a new, very beautiful, and
well-appointed church building. Very soon we were free of indebtedness and
we were able to reconstruct the shaky stables where horses were kept for
our people who drove to church. The old strives were put to rest at last.
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It was not easy for a young,
energetic minister to remain content with life in a small town like
Princeton. Everything becomes so commonplace and it seemed easy to think
that one had done his work at this place and ought to move on.
(I once heard Dad describe the
petty gossip by saying the people observed him and counted how many times
he went to the outhouse).
The result was that I seemed to
hope I might move to Minneapolis where I had first lived. An opportunity
came when, in the early summer of 1894, I received a call from the Emanuel
Lutheran Church in N. E. Minneapolis. I was immediately interested and
accepted the call without having made a visit to the city. I believed that
it was God’s will that I make the change.
 Since
I had already resigned from Princeton and because I had other calls, we
were in Minneapolis by the end of June. Having arrived at our new home, I
found that Emanuel Church was in a precarious financial condition.
(I remember Dad saying that he was
disillusioned and in low spirits and even thought of returning to the more
simple affluent conditions of his former parish.)
The
main problem was the national and worldwide financial depression of those
years. It was a critical period, indeed. Since I had not had very
trustworthy news from Minneapolis about their troubles, I didn’t know
what to think. But yet I believed that challenge was from God, and I
promised the Lord that I would do all I could to save the church from
going bankrupt. The church had a huge debt and the only asset they had was
the foundation for a large building, consisting of stones that shoed the
outline of the building. The former minister had become discouraged and
had returned to his Swedish homeland. After many years and difficult
labors (11 years) we finally won a victory. In 1905 the new church was
finished. (It must be remembered that in those days, the minister was
almost solely responsible to gather funding for the venture. Laymen worked
long daily hours and had little time to assist. What a task!) The building
was churchly and spacious, and is still one of the beautiful church
structures in the Twin Cities. Its tall spires are in a lovely spot across
from Logan Park at Jefferson Avenue and Monroe Street N. E. In this
parish, I have had my most satisfying pastoral experiences. Two of our
children, Albert Emanuel and Ruben Florentius were born in Princeton. Our
next child, Martin Luther died in Minneapolis from and infant disease
(know in those days as the English disease.) All of our subsequent
children were born in Minneapolis. Emanuel has in a very special way been
our home. Therefore we remained there for 16 years. Our ties were broken
in 1909 when we moved to south Minneapolis where I was Pastor of Ebenezer
Lutheran Church at 29th Avenue and 22nd Street
South. I finally promised the Board of Ebenezer that I would accept the
call if the congregation built a parsonage. With a large family of 9
children, a home was built at 2319 27th Avenue South.
 Ebenezer
was in a critical and depressing condition when we started our parish
ministry there. Inner strife had caused many of their best people to
leave. The challenge was great. But after years of work we had an active
congregation. The old frame building was moved down the street to be made
into an apartment building. A new church was being built and in 1926 the
new, beautiful building of stone and brick was completed after having used
the basement level as a sanctuary for three years. This was a time for
rejoicing and a time for the pastor’s glad dedication of the new
sanctuary. The Lord has shown amazing and bountiful grace to us.
This beloved pastor passed away on
October 5th, 1926. Two of his sons, Clarence and Clifford, had
just entered Augustana Seminary at Rock Island, Illinois.
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