A Hungry Heart
There was a road, and a river crossed it. The road was Dalton highway which travelled through the Alaskan interior and traced the Alaskan oil pipeline. The Yukon River was swollen with snow melt and debris that the recent winter had cast off. A long slow bend in the river weaved its way through the many shades of green of the Alaskan foliage, as the steady waters flowed under the bridge that crossed at The Yukon River Camp. This was a river camp that had supplies, food, fuel and meals that was housed at the intersection of the highway and the river. The Yukon River was mighty. The highway was probably one of the best dirt roads you have ever seen. Though it seemed, a feeble attempt to tame the wilds of Alaska. It was the last stop for any type of supplies before you reached the area where Dalton highway crossed the Arctic circle. There was a dirt boat ramp that went to the river’s edge. From this vantage point you could see the bridge we had just crossed to get to the camp.
My wife and I were traveling in Alaska our goal was to make it to the Arctic Circle and travel the famous Dalton Highway from Ice Road Truckers. We knew there would be no internet or connectivity after we left the city of Fairbanks, AK, so I took a book I was reading for the long trip. My friend Matthew had suggested I read A.W. Tozer’s, “The Crucified Life”. As we were crossing the bridge I read this passage, “the best way for a husband to save his family from delinquency is to show them an example of a man who loves God uncompromisingly. A man who seeks to be spiritual, even though it costs him his blood.”
As the bridge transitioned back to road the Yukon River Camp was just on the left. There was a clearing that reached back several hundred yards and makeshift buildings for storage of supplies, and maintenance as well as safety dotted the landscape. These were not only for the camp but for the any who traversed the wilderness to get this far. The first building was a store with a restaurant that looked to have been built around the 1980s. We were in a van on a tour and there were about 12 other people on the van with us. Our group outnumbered all the other humans at the outpost. We parked in the dirt parking lot near the building. Our driver/guide pointed out the boat ramp and told us we were free to walk to the river’s edge to get pictures of the scenic views.
As we approached the mighty Yukon a small boat had pulled up to the bank. (there was no dock) The boat was small and had a cover over the front with an open back. While we walked toward the river a family was exiting the boat. The children were teens, and a husband and wife and son were securing the boat. Two girls were walking up the ramp. The boat stated, “Alaska Remote Missions” and referenced a verse 2 Peter 3:9, which says, “The Lord is not slow in keeping His promise, as some understand slowness. Instead, He is patient with you not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.” Two teen girls approached us and gave us a card that described the mission they were on and the Remote Alaskan Mission they worked with. The girls told us they had been trying to get to some remote villages but there was too much Debris in the river and their boat would not make it through.
We came up the ramp from the river back into the camp and our group had gathered at the van. Our driver told us we would be there a while longer for him to get supplies and fill up with gas. So, we dispersed, some to the store, others around the camp. I noticed an RV a few yards away that had the same “Remote Alaska Missions” label on the side. There was an aluminum bench beside it and on top of that was what looked like a very large backpack and there was a propeller attached the back of it. It looked like a flying machine, but I couldn’t figure out how it worked.
There was a man walking toward it and was adjusting the pack. It was such an odd sight in such an odd place that I was compelled by curiosity to approach him. His name was John, and he was the father of the children we had seen earlier. He had three boys and two girls and his wife with him at the camp. He explained in the winter he would drive his snowmobile over the frozen Yukon River to get to the remote native villages that were not accessible by road. He ministered to the needs of these people. He cared for their medical needs and spiritual needs. Often sharing the gospel and discipling them. Since the river was no longer frozen, he had tried to take his boat up the river to the villages but the large amount of debris in the river had prevented them. He was then going to use the motorized hang glider to fly to the villages from the camp.
He asked me where I was from, and we told him Alabama. He had been in Alabama speaking at a church to raise money for the mission he was on. He told me the name of the city and it was only 10 miles from my house. He had been there only three months earlier. So here we were 1000’s of miles from home, meeting in the remote wilderness of Alaska.
I watched as he donned the backpack and pulled the cord to start the engine. The propeller started turning. He walked over to the chute he had laid out on the ground and hooked it up. He revved up the engine and the chute filled with air and rose into the sky. I watched him fly away deeper into the Alaskan interior and thought of the words I read as I crossed the river. His wife and children had been milling around the camp and stopped and watched with us as their father disappeared into the distance.
A.W. Tozer also said, “It is the hungry heart that will finally penetrate the veil and encounter God, but this will be in the lonely recesses of the heart, far from the things in the natural world. This is where God will meet us – far from the maddening crowd.”
