No Regrets book; Small Group Study Guide and Devotional

GET YOUR COPY AT:
http://www.issaccurry.com/no-regrets/

There isn’t a greater feeling than for God to put something in your spirit to accomplish and YOU have the opportunity to see it through.

You may not be a reader. You may not be single. One thing is certain, THIS No Regrets book and Small Group Study Guide, Workbook, and Devotional is the best kept secret.

This and other t-shirts and journals can be found on my website. Go and check it out for yourself.

GET YOUR COPY AT:
http://www.issaccurry.com/no-regrets/

Walking Away

Our inability to truly love someone else is because we are still in an exclusive relationship with the pain from our past.

In order to move forward, you have to be willing to walk away from your place of injury.

#NoRegrets

#NewYearsPrayers

Feeding A Starving Faith...

I had to preach at Hope Church yesterday. 'The Stirring' service was pretty awesome.

Subject: "How To Feed A Starving Faith" Matthew 14:22-33.

"When we're in the middle of a storm, GOD WON'T ALWAYS APPEAL TO OUR SENSES. 

God won't appeal to our senses because our senses add to our COMFORT, and our comfort adds to our COMPLACENCY, and our complacency is what IMPAIRS OUR FAITH…and a WEAK FAITH MAKES FOR A WEAK CHRISTIAN.

God knows if He FEEDS OUR SENSES, He will STARVE OUR FAITH, and He would much rather feed our faith by starving our senses, which means YOU WON’T ALWAYS SEE GOD AT WORK......YOU WON'T ALWAYS FEEL LIKE GOD IS NEAR.....YOU WON'T ALWAYS BE ABLE TO HEAR GOD when you are caught in the middle of a storm...

But you can trust that God is always there."

Feed your faith, not your fears...

www.issaccurry.com

Facebook: Issac Curry

Thought Catalogue #21

There was one point in my life that both my mother and my father were incarcerated. My mother was in the state penitentiary in memphis and to my discovery my father was in Whiteville Correctional Facility in Whiteville, TN about 70 miles away. I learned this when I was a freshmen in college.

She was there because she was convicted of vehicular manslaughter, Driving Under the Influence, Leaving the Scene of the Accident, and a few more charges. After drinking and driving and killing a pedestrian she was sure to spend her life in prison....

He was there, to my understanding for distributing illegal drugs, domestics violence, and many other things. Can you believe, he has been arrested over 75 times in his life? 

I was only 16 years old. My mother lost custody of each of my siblings as we all had different fathers. My younger brother left to be with his father in Anaheim, California while my younger sister departed to live with her father in another part of memphis. My older sister had just become "legal" and was on her own trying to survive for her three children. So, I was left alone. Sort of forgotten....but maybe that was a good thing. Think about it; had they not forgotten about me, I would have ended up in the custody of the state. I really don't think I would have made it out alive.

I was alone. 

I had to survive by myself.

It was eat or be eaten.

So, I apologize for my strong personality. I apologize that many cannot figure me out. I mean no harm but I have layers to me. It makes me beautiful not different. I'm not a science project. I'm not deficient. I'm my own man. I am M.E. I'm a work in progress. But I am what God is molding me to become. I'm a wretched undone. I'm not perfect. 

Don't judge me because I'm not who you want me to be. I'm black. I'm not as tall as you think I should be? That's cool. I like my balance. My shoulders are broad because I've carried the weight of my family my entire life. It was my inheritance, not a burden. I am who I am. Destined to be a strong, courageous father and husband and leader of my very own fold. I've slipped. I've bruised. I've beaten. But I'm still becoming. It's taken me a little time to learn how to release this weight off my shoulders. I never meant any harm, transference is a b----. I'm becoming better. I can't carry the weight of my past. 

You may not like me. Get in line. You may adore me. Much oblige. 

Regrets? Absolutely. I have them. I cannot wallow there though. Will she ever return, I don't know. I hope so but I doubt it. Should I go after her? I don't know. Should I allow her healing? I think.  

Where is him? Him? Yes, him. This is my corpus, I write as I desire. The God in me won't allow me to quit. I surrender my will so that He can continue to lead me.

Most people don't know my story. Most people don't even care to find out. It's okay, I've learned not to take offense to your ignorance. It's bliss, right?

My point is, I make mistakes. We all do. But try not to judge me. I've come a very long way. I have long to go. God has blessed me in a way I cannot describe and you should want to be around to see what He's going to do next.......

My thought catalogue....21

July 28, 2014

Thought Catalogue #20

Some decisions in life are harder to make than others. I'm literally torn...should I reach backward where my heart and happiness lie, or should I proceed onward with the hope that there is something there for me. 

We live. We learn. We grow. We hurt. We laugh. We mourn. We fall. We get up.

Three Words That Changed My Life...

“For my father and my mother have forsaken me, but the Lord will take me in.”

Psalm 27:10

“I will not leave you as orphans. I will come unto you.”

John 14:18

   

There stood Njeri, peeking from a conspicuous crevice in the crumbling security gate, peering at me as if she had been expecting my arrival. I could see a little eye and a smile and this little person moving anxiously about as I walked closer to the entryway. When I arrived at the gate, I stood tensely trying to gather my bearings and to act like I didn’t notice that this security gate lacked the most essential ingredient, security. This children’s home was situated in one of the most dangerous and deteriorating areas in the city. I stared at the discolored sign over my head trying to make out the words, “Ch-ist Cha-e-.” I assumed it once read, Christ Chapel.

After a few minutes of manipulating the makeshift lock, which consisted of a dead bolt made from a piece of brittle tree branch hoisted to the tin door, a teenaged girl cautiously opened it. Little did I know, the children on the other side of this gate would change my life, forever. I kneeled to maneuver my way through the door. Upon entering, I immediately looked for that little person who I saw staring at me; I could see her in my peripheral fleet across the flat, kicking up dust as she was trying hide behind the nearby building. 

I was then escorted around this humble structure, which housed some 64 children; to my dismay, there were many more bodies than there was room to shelter them. I walked around, gingerly, paying close attention to the lowly circumstances with which these children had to live. I tried to act as if I wasn’t out of my element, but clearly I was. My spirit, emotions, and my body, all were pulling at me playing their own game of tug-a-war. I noticed some were in class, while others were washing clothes by hand trying to teach the less experienced how to properly scrub to get their garments cleaned. There were some children, alone, off in a corner staring into another world, slightly dejected. The little babies, though, they seemed unaffected and unaware of their circumstances - they ran about and played and laughed, some kicking a soccer ball skillfully made out of trash and strings to bound it together. They were happy.

I held my camera to my side very hesitantly because I did not want to appear too anxious to take photos of the children - I was not there to exploit how they were living. These were heart-wrenching circumstances, yet each child was beyond grateful for what little they had (In a later blog I will give more details and photos about the Christ Chapel Orphanage).

After some time, I stood outside directly in the center of this shelter watching the children go about their usual day. I tried wheedling together the few Swahili words that I did know in order to have a conversation with them to gain their trust so they would begin play with me.

While I was busy interacting with the children, becoming more popular with them, I failed to notice that the little person, Njeri, who had kept her eyes on me as I was walking toward the orphanage, had drawn closer to me. She was practically holding my leg. “Aha, here she is! No sudden moves! You don’t want to run her off,” I told myself." 

I slowly bowed my head to look at her and when she looked up at me our eyes clasped. She clutched the lower part of my calf and said, “Na Je Mimi.” When I heard these words, I gasped, and immediately my stomach began to churn. “What is she saying to me, Na Je Mimi?” I wondered. Nobody was around to translate for me but I instinctively knew in my bones that whatever she was saying to me, although I wanted to know, I probably wasn’t prepared to handle it. “Was she calling me her father? Was she telling me she loved me in another language?” I quickly interrogated myself. Whatever she was saying I was certain it had come directly from the seat of her heart. I was scanning through the rolodex in my mind trying to recall these three words but to no avail. All the while, she was still looking at me, and I at her. My eyes welled with tears but I couldn’t explain why. I reached to my camera and thought only to take a picture of her, which made her smile, ultimately breaking our spell. 

She continued, however, holding on to my leg as if she was trying to protect me from everybody else and to keep me from leaving. But when the camera flashed, although it broke our spell, it captured the attention of every child within the orphanage. When they saw Njeri’s photo being taken they all began to run directly for me.

I, then, heard a symphony of voices pealing, “Na Mimi! Na Mimi!” Children from everywhere flooded me with these sincere and innocent smiles. They were laughing, joking, and playing, but most of all, pleading with me take a picture of and with them. “Na Mimi, Na Mimi,” they all shouted. While some were reaching for my camera, others had already begun striking poses - desperately wanting me to capture them in this digital time-space and to bottle this moment.

“Na Mimi! Na Mimi!” all these little voices clanged together.

All the while, Njeri clenched my calf harder, seemingly with all her might, hoping not to lose her place in this increasingly long line of children who were now beckoning for my attention. Then, it happened again, she looked up at me and I looked down at her; we caught eye contact, and for that single moment I was deaf to everyone and to everything. I was raptured in the moment. Motionless. I felt her broken spirit reaching out trying to commune with mine. Her lips slightly parted and although I could not hear her, I comprehended what she was saying, “Na Je Mimi, her lips outlined. I didn’t know what to do - I was so helpless. In my gut, I knew she was doing more than signaling for a snapshot like the rest of the children, what was taking place had tendrils far deeper than what I could probably ever imagine.

Then my friend whispered to me, they are saying, “what about me?”

“Na Je Mimi,” is Swahili for “what about me?”

My heart paused.

“What about me?” is what they all they were shouting. Most with laughter and smiles, others with austere looks upon their faces, that is, until I put the camera to my eye to take a photo of them – that made them all happy. A sad face turned into a beautiful smile once as I would focus on them and take a single photo to capture them.

So I began walking around the entire orphanage looking for children that appeared to be disconnected and sad, then I would signal to them with my camera, asking them if I could take a picture, and immediately they would burst into a glow. They would jump up and smile and strike a pose! It seemed as if they just desired for somebody to focus and to pay attention to them – the words, “Na Mimi?” continued to play in the back of my head, breaking my heart into a million pieces as the recording continued to play through the speaker of my ears.

Abandoned. Forgotten. Dumped on the corners. Locked and left in barren rooms for dead, yet, these children still have the audacity and the capacity to smile.

But what about Njeri, the one who had watched me from the security gate upon my entering this facility? The one who looked me directly in my eyes and asked me the sincerest of all questions, “what about me?” The one who is proudly holding my hand escorting me around the orphanage as I take photos of other children. 

Amid the mild raucous, I could only think of her and this question she presented to me.

Could she be replaying the vivid memories of how her and her two sisters were forgotten and abandoned by her parents, left in a small room for over a week without food or any water to drink and no means to use the restroom? Was she asking me if I would forsake her like those who were supposed to love her tenderly?

Could she be asking me if I knew her real name, age, birthdate, or family history?

She is now about three years old and the questions pervading and occupying her mind are not whether she could have the latest toy, video game, or baby doll to play with, but whether it is possible for her to ever be loved and esteemed and to ever have an identity.

“What about Me?” Njeri asks. Will you forget about me? Will you love me?

Njeri, beautiful baby girl, you are so precious to me. The time I have spent with you has changed my life forever. I would never forget about you – I can’t forget about you. I am connected with you - forever. 

How befitting is the Bible passage written by King David,  “For my father and my mother have forsaken me, but the Lord will take me in and hold me close.”

All these children, abandoned for whatever reason, yet they are still smiling and pressing forward just simply asking not to be forgotten. I sit with them as they worship in their sanctuary. One of the most beautiful scenes my eyes and ears have ever had the opportunity to witness are these orphans worshipping and singing praises to our God. The trust and the genuineness of their faith in God despite their circumstances is riveting. I come to help them but they don't realize how much they have helped me. 

Na Je Mimi...


And this is but a snapshot of what my eyes have witnessed...

Sometimes, in the middle of a busy room, I would catch her fall into a trance as if she was replaying some horrifying memory that only she can display. She would grow very quiet – her entire disposition would change. I would try to flash my camera but even the camera could not make her smile. I really hate to see her tormented like this. Eventually, she would snap out of it. 

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