God’s Traveling Team Pt. 2

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Who Am I?  Part 5: Which Dwarf?

In my last article, God’s Traveling Team Pt. 1, I mentioned the difficult choice I faced, to return to University, or to join the Teen Missions Fall Travel Team.  And as you now know, I believed God had led me to join the Travel Team and promote Teen Missions.  What a huge disappointment it was then to be turned back at the Canadian border and have the team broken up.  The team went back to Florida and I returned to Calgary.

I kept my hope alive though, that we would still get the team together and we would carry on where we left off.  And in fact, shortly after I got back to Calgary, the Florida office called to say they were hoping to get a new itinerary set up in British Columbia and the northwestern States right away.

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The plan that they had was to send the team back my way in about three weeks and I was to meet up with them in Vancouver, BC.  Not one to sit around and waste time, I decided that in those three weeks that I should get my Driver’s License.  Now you may think it strange for me to be almost 19 years old and still not have my license, but it’s amazing all the places you can go to with a good city transit system, or a Greyhound ticket. : )

So I got the Driver’s Manual, read it and wrote and passed the Learner’s Test in the first week.  I signed up for a two-week Driver Instructor class, took it, drove it, passed it, and by Day 22, I was the proud owner of a new Driver’s License.  Now I was ready to rejoin the TMI Travel Team.  (It turns out that being one of the youngest on the team, that they would not need me to drive, but hey, it was still worth it.)


It was so neat though, to be a part of this team.  It felt good to be wanted, and to believe that the others both valued me and even liked me as a member of their group.  We spent close to three months together on this team, the seven of us packed into the Ford Caravan van, traveling from place to place, never knowing for sure where we would be sleeping the next day, but always seeing God provide safe harbors for us to land at and be received by wonderful Christian hosts.

I do find it interesting now after more than 30 years that many of the details of the places we visited and the people we met have pretty much faded from my memory.  Actually, it was such a whirlwind tour all over the northwestern States and BC that I think I probably forgot many details even before the trip ended.  But one thing I have not forgotten all these years is the names of the seven of us on the team.

Each person was so unique, for which we came to love and appreciate them, that we soon had adopted special nicknames.  It shouldn’t take you long to guess where this story is going to head, in terms of the nicknames we gave each other, but I think you will see why we choose what we did.  There were four ladies and three guys on the team.  And the following is what happened on a regular basis.

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After our visits or presentations at a place were done, we would load up the van with all our luggage and supplies and squeeze everyone in and get ready to go.  But just as we were about to leave, Becky would suddenly sneeze.  Not once, not twice, but at least four or five times.  We never did figure out if she was allergic to leaving a place or allergic to going on the road again.  But then we would start driving, and even before we got to the Interstate, Gloria would slump over and fall asleep.  And she would sleep the entire distance, whether short or long, then wake up and say, “Are we there yet?”

Then we had quite the contrastive pair between John and Linda. It rarely mattered what the topic was, but whenever we got into a discussion about something, Linda’s face would light up about something she found interesting, but John would find some way to “shoot it down” and have a scowling look on his face.  It didn’t help that he had big black bushy eyebrows like Groucho Marx.  : ) And yet we loved them both the same.  They were equally our brother and sister in the Lord.

Now Barb was our leader and the oldest of the group, but I think she was just two years older than Greg.  We could all tell that Barb, being in her mid-twenties, was kind of hoping that her “friend” who sent occasional letters wold be her “prince in shining armor”.  So when we got to a new destination and we were able to beat her to the mailbag, we had lots of fun waving around her nicely perfumed letter.  Needless to say, Barb would turn beet red in the face, and even mentioning his name in public would cause her to immediately blush.

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On the other hand, Greg was a 3rd year scholar from Wheaton Bible College, and being a man and the second oldest of the group, you would expect him to be a little more on the serious side of life, having great words of wisdom and sophistication.  And occasionally, he was able to pull off that mannerism.  But the rest of the time, he was cracking great jokes and putting on the silliest of faces to get us all to laugh.

So that leaves just me.  And if you haven’t figured it out yet.  Here is who we traveled with for three months:  Becky = Sneezy; Gloria = Sleepy; Linda = Happy; John = Grumpy; Barb = Bashful; and Greg = Dopey.  That left only me, and the only name left for me was Doc. I was so disappointed when they first called me Doc because I always thought about him as the near-sighted bumbling and stuttering old Dwarf.

But then I was told that they thought highly of me as Doc, because as they said, he was the smartest Dwarf of the group who had all the main brainstorms for ideas and inventions.  Often they would say I was so wise and knew my Bible well, and so they did look to me as a spiritual leader, even though I was close to the youngest on the team.

So there you have it, the Teen Missions Fall Travel Team was made up of the Seven Dwarves and I was given the honor of being named Doc.  I miss those good friends and those good old days. : )

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God’s Traveling Team Pt. 1

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Who Am I?  Part 5

1979 was  an exciting year as well as a transitional year.  I had finished one year of University, and at the same time I was preparing to go on my first real missionary experience with Teen Missions International (TMI).  I was going to go to Brazil for a summer and help build a school extension and a guest house for a New Tribes Mission base up the Amazon river.  That will be the content for a future story.

What I can say is that the summer mission experience was life changing for me.  From the very beginning of the training we received in the swampy Everglades of Florida, until the summer mission project was finished, I knew that I had discovered a mission that I could believe in and put my energies into.  You can read about the Boot Camp training we received before we went to our overseas country in another article called, “Get Dirty For God“.

During the Boot Camp time, I did hear something that caught my attention.  Some of the TMI staff told all of us about a marvelous opportunity to serve the Lord after we had finished our summer mission.  What they wanted to do was to form one or two small teams that would travel all over North America to visit churches and Christian schools to do recruitment and advertise for Teen Missions.

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And so as my summer time in Brazil came to a close, I thought about my two options: go back to the university in Calgary, or travel around North America and do mission presentations.  Hmmm….tough choice, right?  Well, actually it was.  Considering that I had received enough scholarships to pay for four years of university training, the idea of giving that up and trusting God to provide enough money for me to buy my next meal was quite a staggering idea for an 18-year-old.

But I felt the leading of God’s Spirit to say yes to the idea of joining a Teen Missions Travel Team.  And part of my personal confirmation of this was the fact that at the last minute, while I was raising support donations for my summer mission work, a donation came in that nearly doubled what I needed for the summer.  (You can read that story here.)  And that was enough to carry me through part of the Fall.

And so when I came back from Brazil, I asked the leaders of TMI if I could join one of their travel teams and they said yes.  I had a few days in Florida before the training started, and I phoned back to Calgary to talk everything over with my parents.  Just like with my decision to go off with the Navy, my parents once again gave me their blessing to follow my own decision.

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The Travel Team training was conducted at a camp in New Jersey and lasted two weeks.  There were enough volunteer members that we were able to form two teams.  During this time, we learned a number of important skills for doing presentations, like short dramas, puppet skits, musical arrangements, working with stage props and becoming familiar with the TMI promotional materials.

Once we finished our training, we immediately hit the road and started driving toward our first places to do our presentations.  The other team headed toward a different state, while our team headed toward Canada where we were  going to do some presentations in Ontario and then head west across Canada.  I guess they figured I would be their personal tour guide across the country being the only Canadian on the team.  : )

We went through the state of New York and crossed the bridge at Buffalo, NY to enter Canada.  The Customs Officer there asked our leader lots of questions about what our Travel Team was going to do and I think he got nervous and started telling a whole lot more than he needed to.  So when he got to the part about how we would visit churches and they would take up an offering, immediately the Officer thought this was a form of “work” and denied the team entry into Canada.  : (

Although we tried to convince the Officer we were not coming into Canada illegally to do work, we still ended up going back to Buffalo in the middle of the night.  And what a night that was!  On that night, God showed His hand powerfully in both providing for our team and also protecting my life personally from a life threatening situation.  And that unfortunately will also have to wait until a later posting.

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Now to make a long story short, the rest of the team went back to Florida while I went back to Calgary for a few weeks until we could come up with a new plan and a new travel itinerary.  It worked out that our team was able to come back together to do a tour of schools and churches in the province of British Columbia and the states of Washington, Oregon and Idaho.  (We had a new leader this time and so getting across the border into Canada went well.  Hurrah!!)  : )

Stay tuned for many more stories about my adventures with Teen Missions.

Disobedience Wipes Me Out

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Hard Road Journey – Part 4


The last article in this series which looked at Mark Atteberry’s book “Walking With God on the Road You Never Wanted to Travel” was entitled “Trouble Around the Bend“.  That article dealt with the idea in chapter two that it is imperative that we try to “commit to strict obedience”.  Now what exactly is he talking about  when he says this.

Basically, I see this as a call God’s gives to all His people.  And in this call, God is asking us to look to Him and by keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus, His Son, then we mark out a path that is straight and will not deviate from doing God’s will, doing what we know to be true and right.  It is when we take our eyes off of Jesus and start deviating from the path, and for sure when we start taking side roads which branch off from the one true straight path, that our lack of strict obedience turns into deliberate disobedience, and this ultimately causes us pain, grief and remorse.

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What I want to reflect upon now is the last section of Atteberry’s book in chapter two.  For all of us who are believers in Christ, the question isn’t whether or not we are committed to following Jesus, but rather, how well are we following Him.  We know the Scriptural injunctions of “love God…love your neighbour”, “in everything give thanks”, “don’t worry about what you will eat, or what you will wear”, “rejoice, and again I say rejoice.”

To do all of these well, we would need to follow Atteberry’s advice that we be disciplined to walk in strict obedience, and the hope that he puts before us is that if we can do this, then we will carry a lighter load on our journey.  What he means by this is that we will not need to unnecessarily carry extra weight from regrets, worries, negative self-talk, guilt, etc.  I think his comparison of an undisciplined person to an over-accumulation of junk is a good one.  He says:

Junk accumulates.  And it doesn’t just accumulate in our garages and attics and closets and underneath our car seats.  It also accumulates in our lives.  In our minds and our hearts.  I’m talking about worries and burdens and fears and frustrations.                                 (p. 22)

Let me give you a simple story that can illustrate this point that when we do not commit to strict obedience to follow what we know to be right, then we unnecessarily cause ourselves pain and add a heavy load to the road we are walking.

I still remember the day my mom told me that I needed to be home by 6 p.m. for supper, and “Don’t be late!”  I went for an afternoon bike ride.  And like most kids, I lost track of time and before I knew it, I was much too far away to get home on time.  So now I felt guilt knowing I had disobeyed, and fear for the discipline/punishment that was bound to come.

So I pedaled for all I was worth thinking maybe, just maybe, I would get home on time.  I was one block away from home and I attempted to jump a curb to cut across a little grass area.  But my forward speed was greater than my lift, my front tire hit the curb hard and I and the bike made a tremendous somersault into the air and landed in one bruised and broken pile.

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I managed to carry my bike and limp home but I was 20 minutes late.  I did get my well-deserved lecture for being late.  My supper was cold.  My TV privilege was taken from me.  My bike rim was smashed.  And my body sported nice bruises for days to come.  I was mad.  But I had no one to blame except myself.  If I had been obedient to the simple request to be home on time in the first place, then I would not have added all the extra pain and emotional baggage of guilt, fear, shame and frustration.

The point my dear friends, is that more often than not, the path of obedience that is set before us, whether it is from God, our parents, our employers or anyone in authority over us, is usually not that difficult.  And when we accept the boundaries placed upon us and act responsibly to obey them, then even when the path seems hard, it is usually not unbearable.  But when disobedience is added to the already difficult road we are on, then we find the path unbearable.

Let us then commit to a life of obedience to God and not add to our troubles.  And we will find in the end that the path was in fact easier to bear than we thought.  And God himself, who rewards those who obey Him, will supply the help and strength we need to walk through this difficult journey that we have found ourselves walking along.

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God Gave Me This Mind

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Who Am I?  Part 4

Until very recently, it seemed to me (and to others) that I was always in school studying something.  You could say that I was one of those “perpetual students”.  Now that I am more mature (i.e. I am past middle age and heading toward the next category), I am quite content to engage in the work the Lord has given to me to do and not to be too concerned about trying to reach one more academic achievement.

But for most of my earlier years of study, I was always pushing myself to get the highest possible grades.  I would not let myself be satisfied for anything less than an A if it were possible.  I don’t think that I felt any parental pressure to have to be such a high achiever.  And even though there were always one or two others at the top of the class to compete with, it was never done out of rivalry or spite.  It was simply fun to feel we were in a race that ultimately we all won (i.e. being A+ students).

In fact, I viewed school from the very beginning as something “fun” to do.  When I finished my homework assignment ahead of time in class, I often went up and asked the teacher for more homework.  Why?  Because it came to me easily and so it was always fun to find the right answers.

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One slightly embarrassing story comes from when I was in Grave Five.  Math back then, and through all the school years, was my favorite subject. The teacher would hand out new math problem sheets for us to work on in class, and then take home if we didn’t finish them.  Well, you can probably guess the first part.  I almost always finished the sheets before the end of the class session.

So what was a boy like me to do?  Well….from my perspective, I did the most logical thing, considering how much I loved to do math problems.  The next period after Math was Recess, and all the students and teachers would go out of the school and would be out on the playground area.  Yes, you guessed it.  As soon as the teacher lest the room, I went over to the cupboard with math supplies and helped myself to as many as I could.

Now stop for a minute.  I do not want you to think that there was some dark criminal side to me or that I was going to try to steal the answers before an exam.  Or that I would pass on the sheets I found and market them on the black market to other under achieving students.  No, my whole purpose in stealing the math sheets was simply because I loved math, and I felt the teacher had not given to me a challenge that was big enough for me.

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A similar situation arose for me in Grade Nine, the final year for our Junior High School (or Middle School).  Again, the situation happened in the Math Class.  We would be given homework which we could start in class and then finish at home.  But for me, I almost always finished the work in class and still had spare time on my hands.

It was at that point that I has some options as to what I could do about this situation.  And the teacher tried his best to help me grow in my skills in math.  He decided to let me go ahead and start into a Grade Ten Calculus and Trigonometry course book that I would basically teach myself in the subject.  And yet I still finished the material too fast and did what most young boys did back then.

I began to socialize with others (especially with the girls) and got into great conversations, told jokes back and forth that were quite funny, and generally was a grand distraction to the class. Finally, out of exasperation, the Math Teacher had to yell out in class as me, “Weatherhead!  I don’t care if you read a book in my class, or go to sleep on your desk.  I don’t care if you come early to class or late to class.  But I do care about the fact that you are constantly distracting my other students.  Do whatever you want, but just leave my students alone.”

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Well, Grade Ten was not must better for me, as I kept catching on so fast to all the materials of all my subjects.  The Social Studies teacher finally suggested that I don’t come to class, but instead go find the biggest library in Calgary and spend study time there for 10 weeks.  So once I got her permission on the topic, I went out to research it and came back in 10 weeks to do an oral report on what I had studied.  And that is what I did.  I holed up in the underground “Special Collection Archives” of the Calgary Main Library and made a report on the early explorers who opened up Canada, like the Voyageurs.   Pretty cool, eh?

Finally, in Grade Ten, I was recommended to attend an experimental school in Calgary.  It was an independent studies program.  You signed yourself into the school each morning, and then you decided which topic you wanted to study for the day and went to that dept and worked on course modules.  I really excelled there and sped through the material so that I did Grade Eleven & Twelve in less than a year and a half.

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In addition to all this, I made application for and was awarded four major scholarships to University.  Two small grants were from the Alberta Govt, one was from the University, and the biggest one was the four-year tuition grant from Texaco, Canada where my father was an accountant.  Only 5 of these scholarships go out each year, and I was presented with one of them.

So what do I think about all this, now 30 years later.  All I want to say is what Job said who put it this way, “Who endowed the heart with wisdom or gave understanding to the mind?”  The obvious answer is: God!  He is the One who made each of us who we are today.  As for my part, I say to God, “Thank you God for giving to me this mind.  Now I give it back in service to you by doing this work of Bible Translation consultant checking.”

And so I end this article with a sense of humility and praise to God for how He made my brain.  I offer it back to Him now in my service to Him.  May He in all things be given the honor and the praise.

Impacting Others for Jesus

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Part 1 click here.

Part 2 click here.

Part 4 click here.

Who am I?  Part 3

The man was beet red in the face and shook his fist near my face when he yelled at me, “You Bible Thumper!”  But then he backed off and calmed down when he saw that he was not going to get a reaction out of me.  And then he said the most interesting thing.  He said, “I’ve seen Bible Thumpers and Holy Rollers in my day, but you….you’re different!”  And then he just shook his head and walked away.

Now I kind of doubt that many people could guess where this little stand-off took place.  I was 17 at the time, and I was in the bunk areas of the HMCS Saskatchewan, a destroyer in the Canadian Navy.  Previously, from age 13-16, I had been a part of the Sea Cadets, which entailed going down to the navy base in Calgary each Wednesday night, and then had the option of going to navy boot camps on Vancouver Island each summer.

Those were great years, as I proudly wore the uniform, marched in a number of important parades as part of the Cadet Navy Band, and got to spend summers on the west coast of Canada while I was still young.  Then, when I heard that a person could join the Reserve Forces as long as they turned 17 by the end of the year, I immediately joined up in March of 1977, eight months before I turned 17 in November.

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Much of the Reserves was like the Cadets, except that now I was in an adult world.  I worked hard that Spring and qualified for summer boot camp training again on Vancouver Island.  After surviving Boot Camp, I opted to stay out there, and worked in the naval dockyards for the rest of the summer.  Then the big moment came at the end of August.

An officer came up to me and asked if I would like to join the crew of a destroyer and be a part of a fleet maneuvers exercise for ten weeks.  We would sail from Victoria, British Columbia all the way down the west coast of the Americas making stops in San Diego, Manzanillo (Mexico), Panama City, Guayaquil (Ecuador), Lima (Peru), the Galapagos Islands, and Long Beach (Calif.)  So I phoned home to Calgary and said to my parents, “I’m heading to Peru with the Navy, but I’ll be back for Christmas.”  And they said, “Okay, see you then.”  : )

So at age 16, I sailed the ocean blue and saw the world, or at least a part of it.  And I loved almost every minute of it.  I’d been in Cadets, and then Reserves, for almost four years and now I was finally sailing on a large ship bound for adventure.  (Funny thing is, when I got back to Calgary, I quit the Navy, because all I really wanted was a chance to go out to sea, and I did that.  Then it was time to pursue my calling into missions.)

Back to my experience on the ship.  It was hard work, but I felt alive.  And spiritually, I felt like I could connect with God out on the ocean in a way that I couldn’t back home.  Which is kind of funny because of the 200 crew members or so, I only knew of three Christians.  One was the chaplain, one was a low ranking sailor at the other end of the ship whom I didn’t see much, and the third was the XO (Executive Officer, second in command.)

So spending time with God was pretty much a solitary journey for me.  When off duty, I would often sit near the stern and sing hymns and songs to myself.  When in port, I would go alone to try to find a church in the area.  And when I woke up each day, I would sit on the edge of my bunk and pull out my Bible and read from it for a while to give me some good things to think about during the day.

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What I didn’t do was to tell people I was a Christian.  I didn’t have to.  It didn’t take too many mornings before someone noticed me reading my Bible, and then everyone knew I was a Christian.  And that is when all the jokes, and ridicules began.  And of course I was always given the dirtiest job assignment to do.  I was even almost pulled into a prostitute house twice, but God saved me in those moments.  And for the most part, I never raised my voice or spoke back at these men.

Now I’m not saying I was a pushover or a pansy.  When I was mistreated, ridiculed or given dirty jobs, I would stand there and look them in the eyes for a minute or two to let them know I was a man inside who could stand his ground, but then I would turn away and go with a smile or a tune on my lips and go about doing my job.

And that’s what led this other man to confront me on the day we docked back in Victoria.  He had called me so many names, and tried to get me to drink, to smoke, to swear, to lay with a woman, but he had not succeeded.  And he had not broken my spirit.  And through all this, I rarely ever said a word.

And this was more than he could take.  He loved to argue with those “Bible Thumpers”, and he loved to mimic and ridicule those “Holy Rollers”.  But he didn’t know what to do or what to make of this quiet, yet strong, devoted Christian young man.  I realized then, when he said, “You’re different!” that it was a compliment.  Not to me, but to Jesus who was living in and through me.  I saw that by not saying a word, I had the opportunity to impact someone for Jesus.

My Grandfather’s Legacy

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Who Am I?  Pt 2

My full name is Norman Craig Weatherhead.  In my last article about “Who Am I?”, I related how it was by God’s hand of providence that I was even born at all.  I also told the story of how I used to be called Craig as my primary given name, but due to some interesting sleight of hand, my given name of Craig got slipped into the middle of my name on the official documents that were signed at the hospital.  So that explains my middle name.  Now how about my first name of Norman.  Well, it has a story too.

Norman was the name of my Grandfather on my Mother’s side.  He was in the British military and right after World War 1, he joined the British Customs Services and was posted to China in 1921.  He had been living there for some time when a slight, attractive woman, who was quiet of speech but strong in will, caught his eye and in 1927 they were married in China.  An interesting piece of history here and a claim to fame is that Eric Liddel, the famous long distance runner in “The Chariot’s of Fire”, was the best man for my Grandfather in their wedding in China.

This marriage of Norman Knight to Violet Baty had an immense impact upon his life.  You see, my Grandmother was a missionary from Canada who worked for the United Church of Canada’s North China Mission in Tianjin, and when she married Norman, he quickly found himself employed by the mission to be the Business Manager and Director of the mission’s hospital further inland.  There is no doubt that his experience working as a Customs Officer prepared the way for him to serve well in this mission in this capacity.

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But to say that Norman Knight was just a Business Manager would greatly understate the valuable services that he provided for the Chinese people themselves.  When the Japanese forces invaded China in 1937 and up through 1941, for most of that time Norman was the liaison between the mission members and the compound as a whole, and the Japanese garrison leaders.  As he used delaying tactics, the staff would hide some of the local Chinese guerrilla fighters.

It was truly by the grace of God that Norman and his family made it out of China as Japan tightened more of their control over the country.  Unfortunately, after Pearl Harbor, the same cannot be said for Eric Liddel, who had become such a great friend to my grandparents.  Eric, for whom our son is named after, was interned by the Japanese and suffered malnutrition and terrible physical conditions in the Japanese POW camps.  Eric died just a few months before China was liberated in 1945.

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Back to Norman Knight, who returned alone to China after the war, was again recalled to Canada just before the complete takeover of the Communists in 1949.  Following his China years as a missionary, Norman was ordained by the United Church of Canada, and asked to minister to some small rural churches in Alberta.  And even though he had no formal theological training, his mission experience and skill sets were more than enough to help him be a good minister to a number of rural Albertan churches.

Now fast-forward a number of years until you come to 1960.  My mother was now pregnant with me and they had not made any firm choices on potential names for this fourth child of theirs.  But on September 27th, exactly two months before I was born, my grandfather Norman Knight died.  This motivated my parents to then give me his name of Norman, both as a memorial to him, and an inheritance for me.

Now jump forward again about 15 years.  Up until my middle teen years, I had always been known as Craig as I mentioned earlier.  But two things happened in the next two years that caused me to change that and go by my first name, Norman.

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The first thing that happened was that my names caused great confusion for the Navy of Canada.  (I bet that surprised you.)  You see, I had been part of the Sea Cadets for three years (ages 13-15) and in the summer of my 15th year, I attended a rigorous Navy Boot Camp.  And when it was over and I was back in Calgary, two packets came to me from the Navy Headquarters.

In one packet was the certificate of completion, the group picture of my squid mates, and my awards that I had won from some of the competitions.  These were all given to Able Seaman Norman Weatherhead.  But in the other packet, there was a certificate of completion of Boot Camp, but no group picture and no awards given.  This packet was sent to Able Seaman Craig Weatherhead.  : )  So Norman was outstanding, but Craig was missing.  This is the funny story about my two names.

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On the more serious side, I was wrestling with my own self-identity, and one aspect of that was trying to decide what I wanted to do in life.  The Navy really attracted me, and I will tell you a further Navy story in the next “Who Am I?” article.  But after accepting Christ as my Savior in 1972, then sensing in 1974 that God wanted me to be a servant-worker for him, and in 1976, being able to see Bible translation being done in the mountain town of Cuzco, Peru, I knew that God was calling me to be a missionary.

And that caused me to think about my grandfather, Norman Knight.  It would seem to me, that not only did I receive my grandfather’s name as an inheritance, I believe that I also received his vocation as part of that inheritance.  This thought has gone through my mind and my mother’s mind, and even my grandmother’s mind while she was still alive, that in some divine way, there was a connection between me and my grandfather.  And we have wondered, if it is possible, that during the two months since he passed away and before I was born, perhaps he and I had some very interesting conversations together in the spirit realm.  Maybe I’ll get to find out if this is true when it is my turn to graduate to heaven.

Whatever the case, thank you Granddad for your namesake and your legacy passed on to me.

God’s Little Salesman!

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I can still remember my first experience of trying to present something of value to another person and hoping that the person would want what I was offering.  I was very young at the time, probably only about eight or nine years old.  And thankfully I was not alone in this endeavor, as I was out with my older brother at that time and we were doing this together.

Now you are probably asking by this point, “What in the world was Norm doing?”  So I will tell you.  My brother and I were out trying to sell raffle tickets at a bowling lane.  I don’t remember what the prize was, but for about a dollar per ticket, people had a chance to win some nice item and also help the Youth Bowling Association.  You see, all the guys in our family were bowlers – my father, my two brothers and myself.  And selling raffles tickets was one way we raised money for the youth programs and to go on special outings in western Canada.

So there we were, my brother and I, going from lane to lane asking people if they would like to buy a ticket.  On the first time we went out, to my recollection, my brother sold about five tickets after going down the twenty or so lanes of bowlers, while I had sold about five books of tickets totaling about fifty tickets.  This seemed to work so well that we came back a few more nights and found the same thing happen, where I would sell five to ten times as many tickets as my brother.

Now an interesting fact about this story is that there was to be a special award given out to the top youth sellers of these tickets.  The prize was to go on a Greyhound trip to Banff.  So guess what happened?  Yes, you guessed it.  I was one of the top sellers of tickets, if not the number one seller.  But when it was time to turn in all the proceeds and the ticket book sales, it turned out that there was an age restriction for the youth that could go on the trip.  And I was too young.  So my brother was credited with all the sales and got to go on the trip instead of me.  Oh double darn and rats!  : )

But the question was asked later, “Why was Norm able to sell so many tickets, especially after his brother had just gone down the row of lanes and asked the same question to the bowlers, but who had not bought a ticket?”  Well, what can I say.  I was a cute kid.  : )  But I think there was another answer.

As I have been involved in church and mission ministry over the years, many people have commented to me that I have a real passion when I am presenting something that I really believe in.  There is a fire and a deep conviction within me that what I have to offer is something that you would also want to have.

I think that if I had chosen a business vocation, that I could have been a great salesman.  (Anyone want to buy a prime piece of swampland?  No worries about traffic congestion or problems with your neighbors.)  But God has always had something else in mind for me.  I was not to be focusing upon presenting an excellent product to other people, but rather I was to be single-minded in presenting a unique and excellent Person to other people.

Ever since I met Jesus when I was 12 years old, I have whole-heartedly believed in the Person of Jesus and what He has to offer to the world.  Namely, our redemption (paying the price for our sins), and forgiveness of those sins (He has removed them as far as the West is from the East), and our adoption (we have become children of the Living God and heirs to the riches of Heaven).

Now that is something to get excited about.  And whenever I get the chance to share about God’s mission to bring the world back to Himself, I get really fired up with a zeal and a passion that has attracted many people to what I have to say.  For they can tell that this is not just a casual interest in Christ that I have, but a true and living relationship with the Everlasting God.  And that is something worth talking about and offering to the world.

“When I came to you brothers, I did not come with eloquence or superior wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God.  For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.  I came to you in weakness and fear, and with much trembling.  My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on men’s wisdom, but on God’s power.           1 Corinthians 2:1-5

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