By Archdeacon Alexander Pryor
Over Christmas break, on a much-needed day with nothing on the calendar, I watched all three The Lord of The Rings films with my family. Near the beginning of the first movie I found myself struck by one of the many profound lines written by J.R.R. Tolkien for the character Bilbo Baggins. He says, “I feel thin, sort of stretched. Like butter scraped over too much bread.”
I wasn’t expecting to be struck with such a profound statement while settling in on the couch in my pyjamas with my bowl of popcorn, but it has proven to be a very wise analogy over the last two months.
Overall, Arcic ministry is a lot of fun. It’s a joy to get to share the Gospel, it’s an adventure unlike life anywhere else, and the faithful lay ministers and clergy who faithfully minister in their communities are the best colleagues anyone could ever ask for.
And, of course, the Diocese of the Arctic is committed to keeping our eyes on Jesus, moving forward faithfully in spite of whatever challenges or trials may come our way, living that scriptural instruction to “count it all joy” (James 1:2).
Yet, as I speak to my co-labourers in the Lord’s work here in the North day in and day out, we need your prayers.
There is a weight to Arctic ministry that, frankly, can’t be put into words until it is experienced. In November ATTS hosted a conference on Repentance and Holiness in Iqaluit and Hay River; I was helping to lead the Iqaluit conference where the Rev. Drs. Ephraim Radner and Annette Brownlee from Wycliffe College in Toronto were the conference speakers. One of their topics was “a holy life and a holy death”.
Dr. Radner was blown away by the response. Over dinner, he shared “I’m coming to learn that there is a “rawness” to life in the Arctic that the rest of Canada just doesn’t understand”.
Most Arctic clergy serve in fly-in communities with very limited resources; there are few other professionals to refer someone to for support, and the government social or mental health workers in the communities are often there on short contracts. If there’s a need to be met in the community, the reality is that the church is often the only charity in town, so we find a way forward sharing and working together as best we can.
There is a “rawness” to it. Not long ago a lady stopped into the church for the weekday morning prayer service; after the service she knelt before the altar asking for prayer and anointing for healing. The brief story of her life contained enough hardship for 10 lives – a survivor of domestic abuse, a child and grandchildren lost in a tragic tent fire while hunting, another son lost through the ice, and now facing homelessness in a housing crisis, asking for prayers for strength not to “fall off the wagon” and slip back into the bonds of addiction.
Northerners are hardy, we take it all in stride. But, at the same time, we do grow numb to the weight. In the north, we get to the point where we realize these life stories aren’t rare; in fact, they’re tragically common.
Even the little things take their toll. Bishop Joey and I were attending a conference and hosting 3 Arctic Fellowship fundraising events in Florida this January. While I was away my wife’s van froze up leaving her stranded with the two kids, and then the diocesan double-wide trailer that we live in froze up, so no water or sewer. She, Joey’s wife, and Whitney (the catechist at Holy Trinity, Yellowknife) spent a day shovelling snow around the skirting of the house to provide insulation as one of the churchwardens cut a hole in the side of the house to pipe in hot air from a rented Herman Nelson aircraft heater to thaw the pipes.
Someone at one of the Arctic Fellowship events asked, in passing, how my wife and kids were doing, so I told them this story, since that’s a pretty typical winter experience around here. Her jaw dropped. “That must be so stressful! How does she do it?”. “Oh,” I said, “that’s just what happens”.
It’s easy to become numb to the effects of everyday life and ministry.
We need your prayers. We have one clergy family that has faced three evacuations in 2 years, ministering faithfully to evacuated members of his own community while caring for his own wife and kids in their distress. Another priest has had 2 violent home break-ins while his wife and kids were home, and woke up last week to the sound of popping tires as his vehicle was torched by a drunk arsonist. Our ATTS instructors teach on the side of their full-time ministry jobs, and the vast majority of our clergy and lay leaders minister without any stipend whatsoever.
Join us in praying for a miracle. We need more clergy, and we need the resources to properly care for our clergy families who bear a unique load.
Our “bread” is 49 communities across 3.5 million square kilometers of beautiful
Northern landscapes.
God can provide. Will you join us in trusting Him for that provision?