and drove me to the camp, just outside Lachute, which is 62 kilometres west of Montreal. When I found out that the months of May and June would involve long hours of hard physical work, I wondered how I would ever get through it. Log cabins had to be built, and we had to construct a high concrete wall to dam the waters of a pond for a swimming pool. The work on the dam went from early morning to late in the evening, and I can still remember vividly the bites from the swarms of black flies, which left welts on any areas of our skin that were uncovered, and scratching at them all night long. We also had to erect hydro poles to provide electricity for the camp facilities.
THE BOULDER THAT SAVED MY LIFE
It’s actually more correct to say “the boulder that God used to save my life.” During the erection of one of the 40-foot cedar hydro poles, the man who was supposed to direct the bottom of the pole into the hole lost his footing and the control of the pole. As a result, the pole slipped past the hole, resulting in it crashing groundward. All of the men jumped out of the way—except me. The pole came down on me with its full weight, and had it not been for a boulder that suspended the pole, my neck would have been crushed, and I probably would not have lived to tell this amazing story or to fulfill my vision of becoming a preacher and pastor. God had protected me, as He had plans for my future. Jeremiah, the Old Testament prophet, put it this way to God’s people: “I know the plans I have for you” (Jeremiah 29:11). That rock has often reminded me of Psalm 18:2: “The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer…in whom I take my refuge.” The rock on the ground in Quebec was certainly the one that provided refuge for me (my neck and my life) that day. Praise be to God!
ARRIVAL OF CAMPERS
In the first week of July the boys and girls began to arrive for a one- or two-week stay at the camp. These were children from the St. Henri district, a community southwest of Montreal made famous by author Gabrielle Roy’s book The Tin Flute. Back then it had a mixture of English- and French-speaking families. The children who came to the camp were from the English section of the city, most of them from families that were struggling financially and many of them from dysfunctional homes. Many of them attended the Sunday school of the church that was pastored by the owner of the camp. What a great opportunity to touch these lives with the love of Jesus! My experience of teaching Sunday school classes and directing the children’s hour at my local church in years past was a definite advantage.
Throughout the summer, I was a camp counsellor in one of the many log cabins we had built earlier in the summer and was in charge of the after-breakfast devotional time each morning. Of course those who have worked at summer camps will know that you just fill in here and there and do whatever is needed to be done.
As I was very lonely at times, being away from Marion and my family, I was blessed to have wonderful fellowship with the camp staff.
A DOWNSIDE TO THE SUMMER
The downside of the summer was that the owner of the camp was not able to pay me very much for my summer’s work, and it meant that I would have to work longer hours at part-time jobs in the upcoming year at college. Not getting remunerated at the same level as other people with the same skills and training is something you have to get accustomed to in full-time Christian service. It’s all part of the price you pay. You had better not be in it for the money!
LAST DAY AND BACK IN EACH OTHER’S ARMS
On my last day at the camp, the owner drove me to Montreal to board the train for Toronto Union Station, where Marion would meet me and we would once again be in each other’s loving arms (and for quite a while too!). We decided that on Saturday we would go to Centre Island for a picnic. That day I met Marion at her home, where she and her mother had prepared a delicious picnic lunch. We took the streetcar to the docks and boarded an island ferry. What a joy to be together again after a long four-month separation! What we didn’t know was that the next summer we would be separated again, but at least not so far away from each other.
SUMMER STUDENT PASTORATE
I was coming to the second year of my theological studies, and I wondered what I should do for the summer. I soon had the answer.
Dr. Halliday, the same man who had phoned me about working at the camp in Quebec, called me again, with the news that a little Baptist church in east Hamilton was looking for someone to be their pastor for the summer, with perhaps a view to calling him as their full-time pastor. The pastor of the church had just resigned, as he had run into some major issues with the board of elders and membership. It didn’t sound like the happiest situation to get involved in, but it seemed to me like a great opportunity to get my feet wet (as the saying goes) in what I believed would be my life’s work. I had already learned a great deal in my years at Bible college about preaching and pastoring, so I was excited about putting some of it into practice. I agreed to take on the assignment, and within days I had packed my bags and was on the train to go live with a delightful elderly couple for the summer and commence my first pastoral experience.
MANY FIRSTS
Of course there were many firsts, including observing our Lord’s Supper (Communion), baptizing new believers, and officiating at my first wedding ceremony and first funeral service. I didn’t experience any anxiety or nervousness before or during any of these firsts, as being in the public eye has always come naturally to me. And further I was leaning on the promise that “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Philippians 4:13, NKJV).
We had a humorous experience at one of our Communion services. The lady who prepared the elements also prepared her son’s lunch each morning before he left for work at the steel company. This Sunday she buttered the slices of bread and put in a couple of tomatoes. Unfortunately, she got the bags mixed up, and when I went to break the bread, I had butter all over my fingers. I just went through with the service, and we all had a good laugh about it after. Perhaps Mrs. Bell was trying to butter up her pastor or congregants referred to their pastor after the service as “Butterfingers.”
Although being away from Marion for much of the summer wasn’t easy for me, she was able to accompany me for a few weekends and stayed at one of the other members’ homes. The people loved her pleasant and caring manner and were thinking, I am sure, that she would make a wonderful pastor’s wife.
FALL AND WINTER STUDENT PASTORATE
When I was approaching the end of my summer pastorate in Hamilton, the members decided that they would like me to continue on as the student pastor for the fall and winter while I completed my final year of studies at Bible college. I agreed to do that, and every weekend I travelled by train back and forth between Toronto and Hamilton. It meant that I was a very busy young man with my studies, travels, and work, leaving little time for Marion and me to spend together. She handled it all very well, anticipating—as I was—the day when we would commit ourselves to living together as husband and wife.
During my student pastor days at the church during the summer, fall and winter, many new people attended our services and came into membership. Many of these were parents of children we had reached through our vacation Bible school, our Sunday school, a Friday night children’s program, and my work with the youth of the community.
A CALL TO FULL-TIME PASTORATE
As I was approaching my graduation and the conclusion of my student pastorate, the board and membership decided to extend a call to me to become their full-time pastor. Marion and I prayed about this, and we felt that God would have us accept the invitation and thus launch my full-time pastoral ministry.
MY GRADUATION
The graduation ceremonies of Toronto Bible College were held in April of each year in Toronto’s Varsity Arena on Bloor St. It was always considered a very special event
