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Ignite
In God, nothing is too extreme.
Millville Avenue Church of the Nazarene 308 Millville Avenue Hamilton, OH 45013 www.millvillenaz.org
As a new member to this mercy, when my time on earth wrappers, God whispered to me
congregation, let me start off by is through, I will be a completed “Ignite.” As a self proclaimed
saying what a privilege it has pineapple upside down cake word geek, I played with the
been growing in Christ with all able to say confidently , “Stick a letters until God again
of you. In the almost eight toothpick in me, I am done!” whispered, “In God, Nothing is
months we have been too extreme.”
All humor (and baked goods)
attending this church, I have aside, I consider it an honor to Think about that. In God,
experienced God in a new and be a part of this newsletter. I NOTHING is too extreme.
real way. spent a good while Matthew 19:26 reads, “With
Like many, I have a long way to brainstorming, trying to come man, this is impossible. But
go…if I were a cake, there are up with a title that with God, all things are
still a couple eggs to be cracked encompasses what I feel our possible.” ALL things. We just
before I am even ready to be church strives to stand for. have to admit we are mere
put in the oven. But God is the lumpy batter in need of a baker.
Finally, at two o’clock in the
ultimate baker, and my hope morning, my desk flooded with I look forward to continuing my
and prayer is by his grace and Diet Coke cans and Reese Cup baking process with you all.
Food Pantry, Clothing Closet, and Feed My Sheep: How You Can Help
Debbie Earls
Definitions
Tracy Carpenter
time”, at one time, was when I was nineteen and freshly baptized in a
tub of cold water in front of mostly strangers who applauded me
In my life, before Christ and now, things have happened. Things out of anyway. This time, I knew, I would get this Christian thing right. And
my control, things completely in my control and everything in before that still, “this time” was when I was freshly saved at fourteen,
between. And these things have come to define me. For example, I surrounded by other freshly saved fourteen year olds whose unity in
wrote my first story, “The Ice Cream Girl”, when I was eight years old. Christ inevitably had to be left behind a that camp as we departed on
This poorly illustrated, misspelled piece of writing about a girl who a hot bus back to the homes we were escaping from in the first place.
ate too much ice cream and eventually turned into an ice cream cone And I, like many others, put on my low cut tank top, globbed on my
caused my third grade teacher to laugh out loud and to share my too thick make-up, and ran back into the arms of a boy who said he
words with the rest of the class. That moment, though perhaps small, loved me, and back into a world that, at the time, appeared easier to
forever defined a part of me. It was then that a fire was built inside of embrace.
me that, though years have tried to dim, has never been completely
extinguished. Hundreds of “this times” later, here I am, twenty seven, married with
a daughter…still struggling with the simple concepts that are mapped
As a young girl, I strived to be the best writer I could be. I wrote in out in the Bible tracks left by Sunday morning church goers for
school. I wrote at home. I wrote when I knew I should have been Sunday morning waitresses who believe they are in more need of rent
doing something else. And then I grew up. Not really sure when that money than a Savior….
happened, but as sure as I sit here, I sit here as an adult, not longer
holding a pencil and notebook, but broken dreams and a mortgage. I’ve followed Christ whole heartedly for about eight years now, and,
though intellectually I can define (and even partly recognize) God’s
I know I have never been the best (fill in the blank.) Friend. Daughter. grace and mercy, I have yet found the magic wand that will allow
Sister. Cousin. Employee. Wife. These titles, written boldly in myself to let go of myself to be defined by it. Because the definition of
permanent ink, stare at me daily as a reminder of the responsibilities I God’s grace and mercy after eight years of being a defined “believer”
have acquired since being eight years old. And every morning when I should be, certainly not perfected, but at least instigated in this eight
wake up, too impatient to wait for my coffee to cool, yet facing a year believer’s footsteps. The straight and narrow path has yet to
freezer full of empty ice trays, I am again faced with my arrogance make room for these big headed feet of mine I clumsily trip over on a
and jumbled priorities; living a life jam packed with putting things off daily basis.
that should have been done a long time ago, and hurrying to
complete mundane, irrelevant tasks to impress the eyes of the world. I am no longer an eight year old child who is defined by a girl turned
A world that continues to amaze me, frighten me and leave me in ice cream cone. This eight year old can no longer can write her way
despair, all in the same breath. And yet, in a world that is as wavering out of a fallen world.
as the people who reside in it, I so many times have put my trust in its
inconsistencies only to be surprised when it lets me down. Here I am, stripped and undefined. Imperfect yet perfected by His
blood. And I still don’t know exactly what that means. But I want it. I
How can I be the best “fill in the blank” when personal battles of need it.
loneliness, depression, anxiety, addiction, inadequacy and fear have,
over time, left me (not surprisingly) lonely, depressed, anxious, Hand over the pencil. You are not the writer. I am. I define you. I dot
addicted, inadequate, and fearful still? How can I be the best anything your i’s. I cross your t’s. I erase the mistakes you made, and make, and
when the most important blank, Child of God, is written meekly in will make. I will rewrite your “this time”, and next time, and time and
pencil, only to be erased, rewritten, and erased again? time and time again….
Do you want to contribute to “Creative Corner of the Cross?” We accept short stories, poetry
essays, and anything else God inspires you to write (up to 1200 words.) Email submissions to
Tracy Carpenter at tracycarpenter623@yahoo.com