The Toughest Decision I've Ever Had To Make...

Then He said to another, “Follow Me.” But he said, “Lord, let me first go and bury my father.” Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead, but you go and preach the kingdom of God.” And another also said, “Lord, I will follow You, but let me first go and bid them farewell who are at my house.” But Jesus said to him, “No one, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God.” 

(Luke 9:59-62 NKJV)

Cynthia Baldwin: my mother, best friend, and spiritual advisor.

There I was sitting at your bedside as I watched you desperately clinging for life. The machines attached to you, chords and wires meandering aimlessly around your arms, legs and torso, an apparatus fastened to your head, bells chiming and horns beeping as if a maestro were facilitating them, and your eyes closed - you were in a very deep sleep. I had a little less than twenty-four hours before I was scheduled to board Delta flight 5067 to Kenya, Africa, so that I could spread the Word of God and also prepare the way for you to join me on the mission field in just twenty days, but, there you were, motionless, unresponsive...resting. 

In my lifetime, I have read the Lukan's report on the cost of discipleship in chapter 9, many times, but to my realization, with no authentic conviction. I thought I understood it. It was very simple, right? When God calls you to do something, it's a no-brainer - choose Jesus. It's either option A or option B, so simple, or at least that is what I thought. Jesus asks the would-be-followers to follow Him, and they obliged. The only wrinkle in the narrative was that one wanted to tell his family and friends, farewell, and another wanted to bury his loved one. Jesus left it to them to decide which would be the best use of their time, they had to choose. But what about their family and friends? What about his loved one? Honestly, it seemed a tad bit insensitive, but it's only now that I look at this text having had a critical paradigm shift. This has always been one of those stories I read and because it did not or had not directly impacted me, I could not genuinely embrace it like I am now. --- 

The most difficult thing I have had to do in the life of the ministry God has given me was to make the decision to leave your bedside and depart for the mission field knowing your time here was limited. Mercy, me.

It all just happened so quickly, ma.

We were just in each other's presence. I spoke to you about how my uncle just passed and how I was asked to give the eulogy but I was expected to be in Africa the weekend of the home-going so I could not. You then responded...

I am left with this final text message you sent me just before leaving for the reception where the accident occurred. Your last message to me.

Moments later, I received notice that you had been rushed to the hospital and was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit. Saturday, June 8, we learned that you suffered an aneurysm on both sides of your brain and after undergoing immediate surgery, you remained in critical condition. 

Honestly, I knew your time here was limited. I did not know, though, it would be this soon. All I wanted to do was to be the one who escorted you to Africa, to see the world. I pleaded with God months ago to allow you to come to Kenya with me so that you could see the mission field before you or my time had eclipsed. Sad face.

I wrestled, tirelessly. What the hell do I do? I came very close to canceling the trip. I sincerely appreciate the support of all who had sown into this ministry endeavor and all of the planning that had gone into making this trip possible, but for this moment, nothing seemed to matter but YOU. I had not slept for 30 hours, trying to pack and trying to spend time with you at your bedside. Not to mention, I had many people watching me wondering how I would respond. They will never admit it, but some dared me to leave and to go to Kenya - they thought it was common sense to forego the trip and to stay by my mother's side, so did I - for a moment. 

Ma, I stood there knowing your time had eclipsed. It was only a matter of time. I wanted to stay with you. I felt horrible even thinking about leaving your side - I mean, how could I consider leaving after all you have done and sacrificed for me? 

You are my mother, my best friend, and my spiritual advisor.

I depend on you for so much, though. 

My mama, Cynthia. You have always been a Very Sweet Spirit.

I've told you before and I say it publicly, now. You made me feel like a man. You covered me in prayer. There has not been a Sunday where I had to minister where you did not stand over me before I preached and spoke into my life. You would lay your hands on me and make me feel safe to be who I am in the pulpit.

You always told me that God spoke to you and He wanted me to know this one thing and that I should never forget, "YOU ARE AN ORACLE. YOU ARE A CHOSEN VESSEL. GOD HAS CHOSEN YOU FOR SUCH A TIME AS THIS." This is what kept me at Hope. This is what kept me with HSC.

You always told me that I was your pastor, and that I was a real man. 

You shared with me secrets that you shared with nobody before. You checked me and you knew how to put me in line, even without me realizing you were setting me straight - that's wisdom. We connected like I have never connected with anybody before. You are part mother, part best friend, and part spiritual advisor. 

I confess. You have left a void in my life.

You had my back like I've never experienced before. You fought for me and all you wanted in return was for me to provide love to you that you yearned from so many others - I will not name. You just wanted me to be your son and your pastor and your friend. I remember like yesterday, you walked up to me one day and told me that you were going to be my mother. To be honest, I didn't think you would change my life the way you did.

We both had voids that we silently yearned to be filled. I longed for the affection, attention, and direction of a parent that you somehow masterfully executed. You desired a child's presence and the unwavering love that came with no stipulation or burden.

Thing is, I know you and you know me. It was all unspoken. It was simply understood. You understand me. 

You always spoke about waiting for your "godly redeemer" when it came to finding a mate suitable for you, in God's eyes. I guess the Lord found the most suitable person for you - Him. I hear God saying, I AM.

On June 20th God called your name. He took you by your hand and asked you if you would like to dance with Him. You blushed, and in your usual bashful way, you smiled and said -YES!

Your godly redeemer called your name, and you answered.

At this very moment, as I type these words to this computer, you are being eulogized and laid to rest. I am not there - I am on the mission field. I chose to leave your physical presence to do what I believe God had called me to do. I wish I were there but I am here. This is why I waited until this very moment to prepare this blog, this is my way of saying, ta-ta.

Truthfully, it hurts to say goodby or even see you later. This isn't the preacher talking but just a son. A best friend. 

You are my mother, my best friend, my spiritual advisor. You are what I've never had before. This might be politically incorrect, but following Jesus is no piece of cake - it is difficult. I can only imagine the pain and the heartache the characters in Luke's text must have underwent when Jesus gave them the ultimatum. I understand now.

I am left with the comfort of the messages you and I shared. Thank you, ma.

              

 

We had been connected, daily, either by phone or in person. You covered me, spiritually. You advised me through my pastoral duties.

I would delay the preaching moment just so you could touch me and pray over me.  

For me, I had been faced with my first real pastoral dilemma - to leave your side. But truth is, you are with me now more than ever.

You are my mother, my best friend, and my spiritual advisor. You are what I never had. You will always be a part of my life, guiding me. I will listen to you. I know are in heaven pleading on my behalf and for the people. I thank God for blessing me with you. I must now allow myself to grieve. I will see you again someday. I have to trust that your mission and goal was accomplished. I cannot question the divine providence of God, ma. You guided me here in this direction for a reason, now I must discover what God is trying to do in my life. I want to make you proud of me. You always knew what to say to make me feel like a winner. You comforted me. The tears I shed are tears of joy. I may not feel the joy but I know it is there. I miss you already. You are my voice of reason. You protected me at the same time I was shepherding you. Amazing. I don't know what happens now, but if God brought me to this place, I know He won't leave me. 

Peace, be still, ma. 

I don't want to stop typing but I must. I have to. I just need for you to help me. Nudge me in the right direction because I have the tendency to get off track - you know this. Let Jesus know that I am going to do my best to make Him proud. I know I have a lot of learning to do. But now, I can't hide anything from you - you will see those few things I did hide from you because I never wanted to disappoint you. You are a beautiful woman. Your spirit is remarkable. You stayed here as long as you could. You are so selfless.

I love you-

Your darling son

Pastor Issac