Randy Wray’s Blog

God does great things in dry places. I know it sounds odd but some of God’s best work happens in dry valleys filled with dry bones! Think about the many ways in which God used desolate places. He prepared the Israelites to be His people. He prepared John to speak His message. He prepared Jesus to live His message.

Given the choice we would all probably avoid the desert. Given the choice we would choose the lush garden. Lot chose the lush valley and look how that turned out! Adam and Eve lived in a lush garden and look how that turned out!

Jesus expected temptation in the wilderness. I wonder if Jesus expected or was surprised by temptation in the garden of Gethsemane? After a few hours in the Garden Jesus certainly recognized the tempter and warned his disciples to keep vigilant.

Why choose the dry wilderness over the lush garden? In the lush garden we drop our guard and are more vulnerable to attack. In the desert, in a hostile climate - when adequately prepared - we are stronger to face the attack for we expect the onslaught.

Doesn’t it make sense? The same Lord who calls the first to be last and the last to be first, who says to be great you have to be humble, waits expectantly in the dry places of your life for you. To experience a “time of refreshing” it is often necessary to experience a time of conviction, a time of repentance.

Yes, we are not always the spiritual people we need to be. Yes, we have not yet reached that point in our journey when we completely behave like Christ. Yes, at times our spiritual life is one parched place. But yes, that’s ok!

The problem is not that we struggle spiritually. The problem is we try to hide the reality of our struggle! It is in our weariness, it is in our struggle that we most need a community of faith. It is in our weariness, it is in our struggle that we most need to stay close to God.

David said it best while in the desert of Judah:

God, you are my God. I search for you. I thirst for you like someone in a dry, empty land where there is no water. I have seen you in the Temple and have seen your strength and glory. Because your love is better than life, I will praise you. I will praise you as long as I live. I will lift up my hands in prayer to your name. I will be content as if I had eaten the best foods. My lips will sing, and my mouth will praise you. I remember you while I’m lying in bed; I think about you through the night. You are my help. Because of your protection, I sing. I stay close to you; you support me with your right hand. Psalm 63:1-8 (NCV)

Don’t avoid the dry places. Don’t be embarrased or ashamed. Don’t forget that God will meet you there.

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What happens when physical weariness creeps into your spiritual life? (See yesterday’s blog) What if all along the weariness began in your spiritual life and is just now breaching the walls of your physical life? What if being physically tired is just a symptom of a parched soul?

These are some of the questions boiling to the surface of my own personal reflection. In hopes of finding some answers I have returned to The Sacred Romance (B. Curtis & J. Eldredge). The opening chapter includes this quote from A. W. Tozer:

Thirsty hearts are those whose longings have been wakened by the touch of God within them.

There exists a fine line between a hard heart and a thirsty heart. The thirsty heart is no less calloused. The difference lies in the willingness of the thirsty heart, the desire of the thirsty heart to be satiated. The hard heart no longer has this desire. The thirsty heart, as The Sacred Romance maintains, longs to be alive, longs for meaning and purpose, longs to be drawn in by the voice of God.

This longing is the most powerful part of any human personality. It fuels our search for meaning, for wholeness, for a sense of being truly alive. However we may describe this deep desire, it is the most important thing about us, our heart of hearts, the passion of our life. And the voice that calls to us in this place is none other than the voice of God. We cannot hear this voice if we have lost touch with our heart.

Wouldn’t that make you tired? Losing touch with your heart? Unable to pursue much less identify that which is most important in your life? Failure to pursue any Godly passion for life?

And then the million dollar question:

What is it that I am supposed to be doing to live the spiritual life in any way that is both truthful and passionately alive?

So I’m wondering if the reason for much of our tiredness (yes, including my own) is that nagging thought, that bitter reality that what is happening now in my spiritual life is neither truthful nor passionately alive. And that, of course, makes me wonder what to do about it.

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It’s been an odd day. Mostly I’ve been tired. Seems like Monday was having a special and carried over into Tuesday. This is certainly a two-for-one I could do without!

It’s not like I didn’t accomplish anything in the past two days. Quite the contrary, I actually got a lot done.

There are probably many logical reasons for why I am tired. It could well be the late night, the early morning, that spring break is over – too much fun in the cold and rain !

I’m interested in knowing what you all do with eternal Mondays (yes, I am aware that today is Tuesday)! What’s your solution? Your prescription?

So what does one blog about when one is tired? I guess one blogs about being tired.

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This morning, at Arlington, we enjoyed a unique praise and worship experience celebrating the risen Lord. Our experience was unique in that our celebration of worship was both in English and in Spanish.

A major part of the Arlington difference is our effort and emphasis in multi-cultural ministry. How fitting it was to celebrate the risen Lord with brothers and sisters from different languages and different cultures.

We were challenged this morning by Lamar’s message concerning the risen Christ. Lamar spoke of the transformation, the change not only in Jesus but in those to whom Jesus appeared following his resurrection. We were challenged, beginning with this week, to live in the glow of the resurrection.

Listening to Lamar (and grateful for the chance – if only for a Sunday – to sit and listen) I was challenged in these two areas:

First, It struck me the way some try to downplay Easter Sunday with words like, “we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus every Sunday.” Is that true? Each week, each Sunday do we really celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ? I know some will say that the Lord’s Supper is a celebration of the resurrection and yes in its original context this was true.

But I’m not so sure that the way in which we observe the Lord’s Supper is a fitting celebration of the risen Lord. I fear we rely solely upon obedience to a command - as a specific component of an assembly to represent the resurrection - without calling people to live and walk in the certainty of the resurrection.

As one who plans weekly worship assemblies, I need to give more thought, more intention, more emphasis to those expressions of worship which draw us into the glow of the resurrection.

Second, each night we pray with our children and we specifically say “Thank you Jesus for dying on the cross for” (and we mention our children by name). That Jesus died for them is something for which I am most grateful – but that is not the end of the story – it is just the beginning.

Now, in addition to this statement of thanks, we will start thanking God for bringing Jesus back to life that Madison and Reese might one day be with Jesus for eternity.

That God brought Jesus back to life is God’s way of promising new life to each of us. The resurrected Christ is God’s pledge, God’s promise, that we too will rise, that we too will be changed.

We who walk and live in the shadow of the cross need to begin experiencing life in the glow of the resurrection. I am not saying we should stray from the shadow of the cross. I am saying that the cross is only the beginning of a larger story – a story which is good news only because of the resurrection.

The trumpet will sound, we will be changed so let’s begin living in the glow of the resurrection.

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We are nearing the end of spring break here and it seems that everyone and their junior high class is visiting Washington, DC! Yesterday we took a ride on the metro into town with our friends from Oregon — along with every other person in America ‚Äì and what an experience it was. People, people everywhere.

The streets are flooded with people, the restaurants are crowded with people, the museums are swamped with people – there are people here from every corner of the earth taking in the sights. The ride back on the metro was surreal. The train was so full, (how full was it?) only a super hero could have made it on the train - someone like “wafer girl” or “grain of sand boy.”

How else could I describe it? Imagine the tube chute thing at the bank drive through window – cram that thing full of marbles and you will have an idea of our situation. My friend Tim observed that at each stop two people would exit and 12 people would enter. It was not an exaggeration. Let’s just say it was the wrong place to be for a claustrophobic agoraphobic!

Today promises to be another busy Friday of seeing the sights in DC. Today the trains will once again be jam packed full of people on their way into the city. Today crowds of people will head for the mall, the museums and the memorials – just another “normal” spring break Friday in DC!

I’m thinking about all these people and all the activities planned for this Friday. I’m also thinking of the activities and plans in the lives of another group of people in another time and another place on a very different Friday. I’m thinking of that time in history when crowds of people went in to the city to see the sights and were swept up in the middle of an execution.

I’m not interested in discussions about how this may not actually be THE Friday that Jesus was crucified. We can save that discussion for heaven. I am interested in this. There was a Friday, a long time ago, that was quite different from any other Friday.

A Friday when eternity hung in the balance. A Friday when it seemed that the forces of darkness had prevailed in snuffing out the light of the world. A Friday that saw a Father turn his back on the suffering of His beloved Son. A Friday when a large crowd of people got so much more than they bargained for, so much more than they could have ever hoped or imagined when they shouted “crucify, crucify.”

I’m not judging the crowd and their actions. I’ve seen enough of this so called “crowd mentality” to understand how something can snowball out of control. Listen, had one more person tried to get on that train yesterday . . .

I understand the force behind what happened on that particular Friday. Had I been there my loud voice would have probably belted out the same words “crucify, crucify.”

Here’s the thing that really gets me about the events of that Friday. It’s hard for me to wrap my brain around the idea that Jesus willingly gave his life for every person in that crowd who demanded that he be crucified.

On more than one occasion Jesus gave to the needs of a large crowd. There is, however, only one time that Jesus gave in to the demands of a large crowd – it was that time, on that Friday. In giving that crowd what they wanted Jesus gave them the one thing they truly needed.

I don’t know what all will happen today for me or for you. In the midst of the plans and activities for today, I think it might be a good idea that we take some time to reflect on the events of that Friday long ago.

It could be a very powerful time, say around the dinner table, to share some bread which represents the body of Christ, to share a cup which represents the blood of Christ – to share and reflect, to remember and to be grateful for all that began to happen long ago on a very different Friday.

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In my opinion there are two kinds of people . . . those who enjoy the early morning hours and those who have the capacity for rational thought. I know, I know, my inbox will soon be overwhelmed with messages extolling the virtues, the advantages, the benefits, and the rewards of the early morning hours. I’m not against the early morning hours I just wish they started a little bit later.

So, I was up “early” this morning and happened to come across a proverb that made me laugh.

“If you loudly greet your neighbor early in the morning he will think of it as a curse” (Proverbs 27:14)

I was laughing because of how true this is! I wonder if that’s what my neighbors and family members think of my morning antics? For that which makes it easy for people to hear me on Sunday’s – “Hello, my name is Randy and I am a loud talker” – could be rightly considered a curse.

That being said, here’s my thought for the day . . . As you interact with your neighbors and your co-workers first thing in the morning be polite and friendly, courteous and quiet. Who knows, maybe by our quiet lives we may win respect and be a blessing to others, (1 Thessalonians 4:11-12).

Have a quiet day!

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I have been troubled, for quite some time with the legal battle being waged for the life of Terri Schiavo. I have also, for some reason I can’t quite articulate, avoided writing about Terri until today. So why am I writing now? Maybe I just can’t stomach it anymore. This whole situation is absolutely ridiculous!

The husband (who currently lives with another woman) and his attorneys have won a court order that Terri stop receiving food – not just a feeding tube, but that no one can give her food. Seeking to justify starving her to death they prop themselves up by saying “we are just trying to carry out Terri’s wishes.”

Her parents are fighting to save her life – asking a judge to prevent someone from legally killing their daughter.

In spite of all the rhetoric, in spite of all the posturing, this case at its most basic level is about the sanctity of life ‚Äì the sanctity of Terri’s life, the sanctity of all human life.

There are those who wish to make this a “quality of life issue” that somehow her life, because of those things she cannot do, is not worth living. Is that true? Do we honestly want to open the floodgate and travel down this road? Is this really a position we want to defend – that when my life is defined by those things that I cannot do then my life is not worth living?

Terri can smile, can blink her eyes, can recognize her family members, can breathe (on her own) and she can swallow, Her parents could feed her – and would willingly do so - if allowed.

Her parents, no doubt, remember an earlier time in Terri’s life when she was defined by all those things she could not do. She could not talk, she could not walk, she could not run, she could not completely understand her surroundings or recognize everyone who looked at her adoringly – there were so many things she could not do!

But there were some things she could do! She could smile, she could blink her eyes, she could breathe and she could swallow – and as a baby she had to be fed or she would have starved to death.

It is a sad commentary on any society who preys upon and abuses those who are unable to speak for themselves, those whose voice we cannot hear. Shame on us a people who invent and tolerate legal ways to end human life.

Sadly, we have already opened the floodgate where quality of life is more important than life. Our nation has legally killed over 40 million babies since 1973, and right now it sure looks like very soon we will have killed one more.

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Reese and I have been walking back and forth from our house to my office at the church building a lot lately. I’m enjoying these walks for a very special reason. It happened again on our walk this afternoon as we were headed over there with my brother-in-law.

I’d like to say we were headed to a Bible study, a service project or some other spiritually enriching event – the truth is we were headed to play some ping-pong in the church annex! I’m sure if we gave it enough thought we could come up with some spiritual application points relating to the game of ping-pong.

It’s not a long walk, it’s not a hard walk and unless it’s raining, snowing, sleeting, hailing or 125 degrees and 99.9999% humidity it’s a rather enjoyable walk.

We started down the road and my son Reese (who is eight years old and would probably be greatly embarrassed if you mention this to him) reached up to grab my hand. He has done this every time, in the last couple of weeks, that we have made this walk. I can’t tell you how much it makes me smile, how glad I am to know that he trusts me to protect him and keep him safe. In this messed up world how I wish protecting him could be just as easy as holding his hand while walking to the office.

I’m fully aware that there will be a time (probably soon) when he will no longer reach out for my hand. Let’s face it – we’re probably not going to be walking hand in hand on the way to check out his new college dorm room! But for now I plan to enjoy each time as if it were the last.

It’s spring break for us this week and we have more out-of-town friends coming to visit us. Yes, the fun never stops here at the Wray Hotel – you’d better make your reservations for early summer! I’m sure we will have a busy week of sight-seeing, shopping, and who knows what else we can think to do.

I know one thing – I’m planning on taking some more walks.

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As I mentioned yesterday, we have friends from out of town visiting us. We get a lot of visitors – we’d like to think it’s because we’re such fun to be around – closer to the truth might be our proximity to Washington, DC!

When you do visit Washington (and stay in a hotel) you have to take a night tour of the monuments and the memorials. You get a whole different perspective of these attractions at night.

So, we bundled everyone up, (it’s still rather cold here) loaded up the car and made a late night trip into downtown DC. Our first stop was the Lincoln Memorial impressive enough during the day, but spectacular at night! From the Lincoln we make our way to the Vietnam Memorial - also known as ‚Äúthe Wall.‚Äù Coming upon the wall at night, the closer you get, the names fade through the black into view. It’s really hard for me to describe the experience.

I’m not sure how many times I’ve seen the Wall in the 5 plus years we’ve lived here, but each time I see it I’m struck by the simplicity of the memorial, I‚Äôm awed by the sacredness of that space and moved by the message it proclaims.

Every single name, all 54,285 names etched in that wall represent a life given in the service of our country. Each name holds a story. Each name was a son or a brother, a father or a husband. I think about those names – who they were, what kind of person they were, how they died.

I think about those who come to the Wall in order to see the names – did they know them, serve with them? Many who come bring paper and pencil to make an etching of a particular name. Others come to take a picture, to touch the name of a friend or loved one and to weep. Many leave medals, flags, pins, poems, wreaths, and a whole host of other items. I marvel at the effect, the simplicity and power of a name engraved on a wall, how it can stir within such emotions and feelings.

Those names, engraved in the Wall, beg me not to forget – Not to forget the commitment, the sacrifice, the loss, not to forget the person behind the name.

Those names, engraved in the Wall, also make me remember – make me remember that my name is also engraved in a very sacred place.

I remember that my name is graven on His hand. I remember that my name is written on His heart. I remember that because of my faith in Jesus Christ my name is inscribed in the Lamb’s book of life. This is exactly where my name needs to be. This is exactly where your name needs to be.

The Wall stands that we would not forget the people behind the names. The cross stands that we would never forget the God behind the cross.

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What a fun-filled family night we had. So fun, it can only be described as incredible!

Yes, and here Beth gets all the credit, we had a costume party to celebrate the DVD release of the movie “The Incredibles.” It was a costume party because we all made outfits to match characters from the movie. We have friends visiting us from Oklahoma right now and they were happy to join in the fun.

Most of the major characters from the movie were represented: We had Elastigirl, Violet, an armed guard, the villain Syndrome and yes even two well-cushioned Mr. Incredible’s. What’s one Mr. Incredible when you can have two?

Take it from me, the sight of two grown men in lycra tights with pillows stuffed in all places was truly a sight to behold! For a moment I wasn’t sure if we were super-heroes or extras in “Robin Hood, Men In Tights!” Unfortunately for our lycra stuffed super heroes, pictures were taken. This, in effect, guarantees an end to any promising public service careers.

The Incredibles is such a fun movie with such an important message about families sticking together and each person in the family doing their job to support and strengthen the family.

We ate pizza, watched a great movie and had so much fun. As my mother-in-law would say, “we weren’t just having a party we were making memories!”

Now let’s just see if our friends from Oklahoma ever come back and visit!

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