Stephen Anthony Ray

Those who know me well know that I have two great passions in life: music and youth ministry.  Even in high school, my friends knew well that, at any moment, I could be found doing one of two things: either I was somewhere annoying the heck out of someone by playing piano or singing or I was surrounded by a small entourage of teens a few years younger than me.  Nevertheless, the long process of making academic and vocational decisions that correspond to these passions has been a constant source of confusion and difficulty every moment since I became a student at Ouachita.  On the one hand, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I love pouring into the lives of teenagers through discipleship and teaching more than anything else.  On the other hand, God has gifted me in the area of voice in such a way that not developing this gift would seem criminal and like a waste of great potential.  In fact, my six year career at Ouachita (now a part of Ouachita folklore and the source of constant ridicule with my friends) is a direct result of this struggle for dominance between the two passions that apparently battled within me, seeing as I changed my major five times.  But there was a point during the Ouachitonian years that I finally arrived at a choice.

In February of 2006, I won the Mid-South Region of the Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions to advance to the National Semifinal round in New York.  All of this happened amidst perhaps the most difficult time in my life in trying to understand the calling that God has placed on me.  In the district and regional rounds, the singers are each allowed a short interview with the judges following the competition so that they can discuss issues related to their performance, voice, and ways in which they can improve.  I can remember so clearly even now having won first place, giving interviews, celebrating with family and friends, and lastly, standing in line for the interviews, along with my voice instructor and diction coach, Drs. Jon and Glenda Secrest, respectively.  As I stood there, rather than being filled with excitement, I was filled with fear and sadness because I knew that this new opportunity would make it so much more difficult to justify the choice of becoming a youth pastor (biblical studies was my major at the time).  And as I stood there, a black woman, whom I later realized was the wife of OperaMemphis’s staff otolaryngologist, came up to me; she had wished me luck before the competition, sort of in passing.  I figured she was just coming up to offer congratulations.  But then, these words proceeded from her mouth: “Stephen, I want you to know that my family and I are praying for you, and that it is okay to see where this goes”.  I was floored.  And she walked away.  I’ve never spoken to or seen her since.  But her words were exactly what I needed to hear at the time.  In fact, I believe that they were God-ordained.  When I got back to Ouachita the next week, I changed my major to voice once and for all, having concluded that God’s will for me (vocationally) was to be an opera singer.

And that is the degree with which I graduated: a Bachelor of Arts in music with a minor in Christian studies.  But even though I was a voice major, I still found time for youth ministry.  I got involved in Ouachita’s BigBrother/BigSister program, and I began working at Park Hill Baptist Church in Arkadelphia as a college volunteer, eventually became a student intern, and finally, became interim youth pastor, pending the selection of a permanent youth pastor.  I had not even considered submitting my resume for the position, even though I knew I would be graduating college at just the right time.  I had already completed the Met auditions again (this time, I made it to the finals) as well as auditions for graduate school.  I was determined to continue with the divine advice of the woman I met in Memphis.  I was determined to “see where this goes”.

Then, this: in January 2009, I was a speaker and small group leader for a youth conference (to which I had been invited almost a year prior by a dear friend, Michael Rodriguez) in Alabama called The Journey.  It was like old times at Park Hill.  I got to pour into the lives of some awesome high school guys and speak to a wonderful group of students.  In fact, the experience was perhaps even more spiritually refreshing for me than some of the students.  God did some great work in me there.  When I came back to Houston, I could not shake the sense over the next several weeks that something was missing from my life.  I began to recognize that those old feelings of frustration and difficulty regarding my life’s calling had indeed resurfaced.  As I prayed and continued to seek God’s will with this issue, he began to speak to me through certain people and certain experiences.  I recall one instance in particular in a voice lesson with Dr. King.  Somehow, we got on the subject of calling.  He had a shared a story about a very talented former student of his who chose to go into full time ministry rather than a career in opera.  As we ended our discussion, he spoke a phrase that I will never forget: “The way you know whether or not you’re supposed to do something has nothing to do with how good are you are at it.  It’s about whether or not you can live without it, especially in opera.”

Honestly, friends, I love music.  I love it more than many things.  It speaks to me.  God speaks to me through it.  I love to perform.  I love to impact the lives of others through music.  I even love the opportunities that God has afforded me through my talent, such as singing at the Met, getting a full ride at a prestigious university like Rice, and getting opportunities to talk about Jesus with my music colleagues (sometimes it’s a discussion - sometimes it’s a devotion - sometimes it’s debate).  In fact, it is this latter love that I believe is the purpose of God bringing me to this place: ministry outside of a church.  Maybe this is where it was “supposed to have gone”.  Maybe there’s more.

I love all these things.  But when it comes down to it, I could live without the music career.  But I simply cannot live without youth ministry.  I believe with all my heart that it is the purpose for which I was created (among other things) and the passion to which I should devote my life vocationally.

This past week, in accordance with this realization, I informed my voice instructor that I would not be attending Aspen Musical Festival, a summer young artist program where he teaches and where I was offered a major role and fellowship.  Rather, I will be staying here in Houston, where I will continue to help out with the youth group at Westbury Baptist Church and begin exploring opportunities for full time youth ministry for when I finish my Master’s degree.

Many look at this decision as nothing more than the latest in a perpetual series of vocation switches.  Others think it so foolish to give up on what could undoubtedly be a great career in opera.  Still others wonder what the heck has taken me so long to get here (to youth ministry).  And few are somewhere between these varied opinions.  In fact, despite how sure I am about this decision, I am still going through these same second guessings myself.  Am I only making this decision because I’m burned out on opera?  With my voice, couldn’t I be way more successful monetarily in opera than in ministry?  Can’t opera be a ministry anyway?

I hear them all.  I understand them all.  And I’ve weighed them all.  Who knows?  I could be wrong…again.  Time will tell.  But through this process, I’ve learned a few things about this wilderness.

1.) Choosing one thing doesn’t necessarily mean forsaking the other.  I will still be able to perform as God affords me opportunities to do so that don’t conflict with whatever ministry in which I am involved.  It’s not always about a choice - sometimes, it’s just about determining proportion.

2.) I know that my vocation matters to God.  But I also know that what matters to Him even more is my continual pursuit of His Kingdom and His Righteousness.  That way, whatever I do, He will use me to edify and build up His Church.

Friends, I implore your prayers and encouragement through this time of uncertainty.  And, should anyone out there be dealing with something similar, I leave you with these words from Isaiah:

Although the Lord gives you the bread of adversity and the water of affliction, your teachers will be hidden no more; with your own eyes you will see them.  Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”  Isaiah 30:20-21

SRay

It’s no secret to my high school friends that I was a terrible baseball player for the three years that I played during my junior high school years.  No secret at all.  In fact, stories still surface every now and again that bring these hilarious, horrendous memories back in the front of my mind, like the time when I struck out and threw my bat into right field (I was ejected).  Then, it was embarrassing.  Now, it’s hilarious.

Fast forward ten years, and I’m back at it again.  Except now, it’s men’s softball, the funniest thing that exists in the world today: a bunch of guys way past their prime in athletics till trying to live the dream and re-live the glory.  Softball is the only thing that you can be a STUD at, and still no one cares.  Lol.  But man, I love it.  I’ve always told everyone I know that, though I was much more suited for football with my build, I’ve always LOVED playing baseball.

Under the direction of our fearless (and incredibly blunt) coach, Matt Mitchell, I now play for Westbury Baptist Church, or “OD”, as we call ourselves.  I think it stands for “Operation Domination”, but since we haven’t won any games yet, we’re thinking of making it “Organ Donors”.  And again, those same feelings of inadequacy that I used to have when I played baseball have resurfaced.  But because we were just out there to have fun and weren’t that concerned with winning (clearly - since we’ve lost every game), I had a blast.  Who goes 2 for 6 and has a blast?  Who blows the only two hits that came to him in the game? (yes, I play right field…shut up)  Who wears a tanktop for a softball uniform?  Me.

And I can’t wait until next week, when we do it again.  Thanks coach Mike.

SRay

Recently, I’ve come to recognize again (having been reminded by scripture) that life is a perpetual battle of the Spirit vs the Flesh.  From spiritual birth to physical death, those who are God’s children spend their time submitting to this process of conformation to the image of Jesus Christ (we call it sanctification) and the consequent denial of the Flesh and Worldly citizenship.  The paradigm of salvation is a lifetime of transformation - not a promenade down an aisle, not an emotional prayer, not an intellectual assent, not a beautiful moment of realization or regret, not a staunch commitment to justice or fairness.  Those things may well be diverse parts of the transformation itself.  Indeed, they may be stops along the journey.  But by themselves, they are nothing more than wonderful experiences.

I’m not one to cast doubt on the salvation of another man or woman.  The Bible defines salvation rather clearly in the New Testament such that each should be able to define it for himself.  However, I have to come to realize that I am dissatisfied with the current status of my salvation.  If we are supposed to become more like Jesus in this process (conceding the occurrence of a little unintentional backsliding now and then), all the while incrementally forsaking the Flesh and World, then my utter love and enjoyment of the things of this World is a hindrance.  For me, the problem is not trying to understand why I am experiencing this idolatry.  I know exactly why it exists.  Rather, the problem is that I try to minister to others despite the idolatry.

Earlier tonight, I was at a youth ministry movie/hangout night at a church in Houston, where I help out on Wednesday nights with chaperoning and playing piano under the worship leader.  As I began to meet students I had not seen before and initiate relationships with them, I took special care to engage them in an outgoing, but unintrusive, way.  Doing such lays the foundation for any sort of mentoring or discipling relationship that might form out of my continued interest in their lives.  All of this foundation laying caused me to think back to the past students I’ve mentored/discipled and how effective my influence was in encouraging them to become more Godly young men.  During this extended flashback, I discovered an inconsistency between the first several years of my ministry, and the last few years.  During the first few years, my exortation to my students was based around an immovable personal resolve to love God and allow Him to change me.  And though my resolve is certainly still there, I find that it moves much more easily and appears now as only a skeleton of its former self.  In the first few years, I knew that NONE of the problems or concerns of my students was too big for God.  They all met their match in Him.  And yet, now, I find that my response to these same problems or concerns is much more understanding and unchallenging - and weak.  It used to be a response that declared a stubborn, excuse-less trust in God, no matter how difficult the temptation or experience.  Now, it is a response that declares that some trust, yet mixes in a bit of uncertainty and implies the complete loss of one’s freedom and happiness, trading it in for imprisonment and depression.  I am losing my ability to sell the Gospel.  I used to sell it with utter certainty.  Now, I sell it with hesitation.  I used to be so certain that students could find in the Kingdom a life and community much more satisfying than what they could experience in the World.  Now, I struggle to believe that fact myself, often seeking in the World what only God can provide.  And it is here, toward the end of my flashback, that I began to realize something important: I cannot sell what I do not have.  The reason that I cannot sell joy over happiness is because I have no joy.  The reason that I cannot sell abstinence over pre-marital sexual behavior is because I myself struggle with sexual purity.  The reason that I cannot sell submission to ones parents and those in authority (regardless of how unjust they may act in our opinion) is because I myself have issues with submitting to authority, especially when I’ve experienced abuse at the hands of an authority figure.  I have this huge freaking plank in my eye.  And it isn’t that the plank impairs my ability to see an issue clearly in the life of a student (or friend, for that matter).  It’s that the plank supplies enough doubt regarding whether or not he should adhere to my exhortation, seeing as my own example provides no evidence or inspiration.  It is easy to persuade a person of the goodness of trusting God whenever the fruit of that decision is clearly manifested in the life of the persuader.  When it isn’t, people will almost certainly look to something else for fulfillment, and my students of late years have been no exception.  I’m afraid to admit to myself the possibility (in some cases, the certainty) that, through my lukewarm stagnancy, I have misrepresented the paradigm of salvation and actually led students to make a decision for this World because the Kingdom, so far as they could tell, isn’t good enough.

SRay

I wrote this past week about how God used my community group and overall experience at The Journey to make me aware of the stagnancy that has prevailed in my relationship with Him for years now.  Because of many complicated struggles in my life, I allowed my focus to be diverted from the one place I should have looked for the solution to those struggles.  Thus, I made a decision during the earlier part of this week to begin the process of learning to spend more time with God, reading more of the Bible, and being more faithful to church and school work, all the while forsaking those desires of the flesh - in which I have found refuge and costly satisfaction for years now.  I sought out to trust, with all my heart, that God is truly all that I need to be completely and wholly satisfied.

I won’t lie.  This week has been really tough.  Quite honestly, I have even found myself in moments of intense depression, mostly at those times where I stubbornly resolve to not allow my imagination to run unrestrained into sexually inappropriate thoughts or to not indulge my flesh by viewing innapropriate websites online.  In fact, I think that the overall sense of bitter loss that I was feeling was due almost wholly to the fact that my flesh had full knowledge of my decision to starve him to death.  And he was fighting hard.

Amidst this struggle between my spirit and my sinful nature, I often came to a point in my heart where I would be filled with anger toward God, inquiring as to why He would allow me to endure such difficult circumstances when I had indeed chosen to seek him more devoutly.  Should my decision not be rewarded with faithfulness, manifested as peace and ease of passage.  And it is here that I began to realize a very important truth to which my previous lifestyle of sinful inconsistency had blinded me: my temptations this previous week were not so incredibly strong (and at times, almost debilitating) because God was “teaching me a lesson”.  They were not even so strong because I was swimming against the waves of this world, though I was.  The reason that they were so strong is because I had learned to satisfy my soul with sin.  It became my food.  It became my drink.  It nourished me.  It sustained me.  And now, choosing God and at once denying my flesh its food of so many years, it only makes sense that this transition would begin so difficultly.

After revealing this to me, God, in his faithfulness, guided my mind months back, when I began working out and eating better.  Even then, that choice to begin being healthier began terribly.  In fact, I even recall during that time feeling much of the same sense of loss that I’ve felt during this past week.  It was only weeks and months into the new choice that it revealed itself as a much better and more fulfilling choice.  I believe that transitioning from the world to the Kingdom works much the same way.  At first, it feels like you’re doing something so contrary to nature, indeed, something that nearly paralyzes the soul.  And then, after weeks - after months - after years, you forget the pain of the change and begin to wonder how you ever could have lived any other way.

To quote the great Christian philosopher, C.S. Lewis - “We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea.  We are far too easily pleased.”

I choose the sea over the mud.  I just wish that Mr. Lewis would have informed us that the journey between includes some mountains, a few rivers, and some incredibly deep pits along the way.  Ah well.  I’m packed and started off anyway…

SRay

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