Stephen Anthony Ray

This previous weekend, my life was greatly affected and changed by God through six incredible students at The Journey, a youth revival founded by my friend, Michael Rodriguez.  I got the amazing opportunity of being a speaker and community group leader.  These students in particular were from the church where Michael serves as youth pastor, First Baptist Church of Andalusia, Alabama.

In the midst of an incredibly rapid dissolution of walls of insecurity and fear, these young men and I communed as though we had known each other for years.  We challenged one another.  We motivated one another.  We prayed for one another.  We experienced the type of fellowship that is so good and transparent and changing and deep that it would lead a person to conclude that he/she were getting a sneak preview of Heaven.  Although I had a wonderful time pouring into their lives and watching as God broke down their hesitations and inhibitations as the weekend continued, the truth is that my heart was probably hardest of all.  I’ve spent the last fifteen years of my life (my whole Christian experience) giving God half-hearted commitment while still holding to and trusting in the satisfaction derived from this world.  In all honesty, it’s been years since I’ve shown any consistency whatsoever in my fellowship with God.  I’ve been too busy being obstinate and chasing after wind.  After amazing spiritual community with my boys, listening to my own sermon, and experiencing a Saturday night of intense worship, my heart was still hard.  And then Sunday morning, the last morning of the event, I was writing small letters to each of my students, writing about their specific unique gifts as I recognized them and encouraging them to be vulnerable and open to the change that God wants to bring into their lives, trusting that, even if it’s harder at the moment, God still knows what is best. 

During the last sermon and the worship session that followed, I felt a somewhat familiar wrench in my heart.  Like awakening after a long sleep, I felt my soul adjusting to the intense light before it.  Tears streamed down my face and memories of my unfaithfulness came to my mind as I remember, being broken, feeling the voice of God gently call to me, saying, “Stephen.  Will you not trust me, too?”. 

I pushed the boys the whole weekend - and they responded.  But I was the last one.  Indeed, in the end, they set the example for me.  They helped me remember what it meant and felt like to say “Yes, Lord”.  I am forever indebted to Sunny, Josh, Trav, Nate, Tyler, and Marcus for the change that God brought about in my life through their example. 

SRay

Sometimes, it takes a hurricane to make you thankful for the things you do have.

So…earlier today I was reading a review of the apartment complex I live in (Mainstream Apartments) in this Graduate Resources book they gave us at orientation today.  It was in the bad reviews section and read as follows:

“Big rooms and cheap, but a lot of murders”

For the love of God, please pray for me.

SRay

They say that baseball is a boy’s game.  This past weekend, it sure wasn’t.  It was the game of hateful, mean-spirited adults.  I umpired a game in a tournament in Sheridan, Arkansas this past Friday evening.  One of the teams contained players that I had umpired when they were young.  I recognized some of them and their parents, as well as the coach, an old acquaintance.  The amazing thing about being an umpire is that friendship with people that you only know through the sport is extremely temperamental, as I found out this weekend.  The team with the players I knew lost 4-2.  During the game, I received some of the rudest and most character defaming comments I’ve heard in my entire life.  In fact, as I continued to ignore them, some of the fans made comments impugning my intelligence, integrity, fairness, and ability to do my job.  I find it amazing that, somehow (tradition is partially responsible), it is socially acceptable to do to sports officials what a person could not do in any other life situation.  The foundation of “good” baseball these days is ambition, regardless of character.  That was more evident this past week than ever before.  For me, umpiring is a ministry - an opportunity to have a positive impact in the lives of these teenage guys.  However, this is one of the only days I can recall out of my entire career that fans and a coach really made it so personal.  Beyond the fans’ obvious immense measure of ignorant bias and being yelled at and dressed down by the coach like a child who robbed the cookie jar, I think the most disturbing fact about that evening is that those teenagers have walked away truly believing that their loss was not their responsibility.  It was someone’s else fault.  Some cheater.  Some bad umpire.  Anyone but themselves.

I did the best thing that an umpire can do in this situation…and the hardest thing.  I walked away.

All in all, it makes me truly understand two realities concerning the human nature.  1.) We desperately need God.  2.) There is indeed a devil.

SRay

Tonight at worship, the speaker (Alex Himaya) had an invitation.  As hands raised and hearts broke, as tears streamed and eyes closed, and as students made a decision to respond to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, a familiar feeling came over me.  It’s a feeling that I only experience during intense moments of the Lord’s presence.  I get that knot in my throat.  My emotions overwhelm me.  And I cry.

At first, I thought that the reason I cry is simply that I’m touched by the corporate response to the message and the atmosphere.  Indeed, that is at least the catalyst.  I think, however, that the reason I cry changes from praise to hurt.  I’m hurt in my heart because I mentally juxtapose the beautiful newness and innocence of new relationships and responses to Jesus with my own long battle of love vs lust, trust vs unfaithfulness, pain vs pleasure.

I want more.  And I know that it’s available.  And like clockwork, I continue to medicate myself by submitting to the addiction that enslaves me.  It’s like I can’t escape.  It’s like destiny is set.  It’s hell without the flames.