Author Archives: Carrie Carter

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might.  And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart.  You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates. Deuteronomy 6:5-9

He was the ultimate church planter. Eleven churches were started either by, or on account of him, and that’s all we’re able to decipher from the records we have. That number could easily be higher.

Oh, I’ll also mention that he did this in the Roaring Twenties and throughout the Depression. He started out on a horse and graduated to a Model T. He had no budget to purchase a sound system (not to mention the lack of technology), special age-specific programs, or paid staff. Who needs all that when you have access to a great accordion player!

What he did have was a burning passion to reach lost Hoosiers with the good news. It was a passion that kept him away from his family of 12 for weeks at a time. It was a passion that set Southern Indiana on fire for God during a time when most hope had flickered out after the events of the stock market crash and rampant illnesses now unheard of with today’s medical advances.

And his eleven children? Well, seven of those eleven either became preachers, missionaries, or else married one. Let me add that he highly encouraged two of his “preacher’s wife” daughters, one of those being my grandmother, to become ordained themselves in a day when that wasn’t so popular.

He was my great-grandfather.

He’s a part of my heritage that I won’t deny, as I tend my own parsonage. Sometimes I can’t help but wonder how his passion may have shaped my own life decisions. From the choice of undergrad studies, to marrying a minister, to my own path of full-time ministry, his life continues to impact mine: this man I never met.

Not everyone’s heritage is so glorious. Not all of my heritage is so glorious.

However, the heritage I leave is a choice. Not in the ancestral choices of yesterday, but rather in the choices I make for my progeny. I am fortunate to have J.H. Carroll’s legacy as part of my heritage, but it is up to me to make sure that heritage is passed along to my boys.

The events of last week leave me searching my soul. I shudder at the culture of terror and evil that seeped into the souls of the assailants. My heart breaks for the heirs of spiritual ignorance as they were thrown into the afterlife without comprehension of where they were going. I rejoice with sorrow for those who died with an everlasting hope, because I will meet them someday, and I thank the one who introduced them to that hope.

Am I leaving a heritage that my boys will want to pass on to my grandchildren? Am I leaving them a heritage that, in the face of evil, will give them the boldness to say, “Yes, I am a Christian”? Am I leaving them a heritage that gives them peace and security in Christ as the world around them crumbles?

My great-grandfather’s legacy could have just as easily ended with me, as it has for many other family members. But where does that leave my children? My great-grandchildren?

If you don’t have a heritage worthy of passing down, it’s never too late to start one. Your great-grandchildren might thank you for it decades later.

“For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.” ~Ecclesiastes 3:1

In case you didn’t know it, fall has arrived. The earth tilts on its axis and the days shorten, the air grows crisp, leaves change from green to varying hues of red, orange, and yellow, and combines roar through fields of golden-brown corn, stirring up enough dust that your sinuses aren’t sure what hit them, though they know they’re not happy.

For those of you who know not what I speak of because of geography, there is also pumpkin spice. I would almost tell you to trust the season of pumpkin spice, for this is what fall has become; but I fear pumpkin spice will go the way of seasonal decorations, as Halloween hangs next to Christmas décor. I rue the day when pumpkin spice is served alongside Derby Day’s mint juleps.

It’s as if our seasons are no longer definitive. Our lives have become so hectic and hurried that we live in one jumbled, chaotic season of “Sprumfinter” (springsummerfallwinter), which might explain why I see shorts paired with Uggs at Walmart in 20-degree weather.

Have you ever evaluated in which season your soul might be currently residing? Has the thought even occurred to you that your soul goes through seasons at all? Let me give you an example: My soul is currently coming out of a winter season. It has been long, dark, and, at times, bitterly cold. It is a season of waiting, a season of being pruned.

Winter is barren and stark. A time of living on the reserves you have stored from previous seasons. Winter does not bear fruit. Winter does not harvest. Winter can only hunker down and let God do his work. It is painful, but it is during the winter season that your roots have the potential to grow deeper in him than in any other season.

Or maybe you are in the spring of your soul, clearing rocks from the field, preparing soil, and planting seed. Your soul is blooming with new purpose, new vision. It is a time of renewal in every way. It is a season filled with hope, with anticipation for what could be. Love is revived and your eyes sparkle with fresh perspective. Passion is awakened the moment your soul is touched by the warmth of spring. There is work to be done and what better time than now?

Summer: granted, you may live in a place where summers are practically unbearable; where heat melts the soles of your flip-flops. However, the season of summer in your soul is a time of enjoyment–of God and those he has put in your path. It is a season of relaxation and play, without apology and with abandon. It is gleefully collecting the firstfruits of your planting, and living unhurried and unworried, existing fully in the moment, taking time to be aware of a cool breeze brushing across your sun-kissed face, and dancing with joy at the abundant blessings you’ve been given: all are signs of a soul-summer.

And now your soul cycles back to fall. Frost withers the grass and the leaves loosen their grip from the branches that birthed them. Fall is a season of celebrating God’s bounty, and gratefulness should overflow and splash out onto everyone you come in contact with. Yet, there is an urgency to autumn. You are driven to harvest what you have planted. To reap what you have sown. To store up the results of spring’s work and summer’s care. To feast on a harvest of righteousness, if that’s indeed what you’ve planted and nurtured. Though a physical fattening up for the winter is no longer something we North Americans have a need for, it is imperative that you fatten your soul on spiritual disciplines throughout the spring and summer, but especially in the fall, if you expect to survive the soul’s winter.

The most important thing for you to recognize is that seasons of your soul cannot be rushed or tossed into a tangled heap (think of snow-covered, fallen leaves laying on a beach of daffodils). You need to take a step back and become aware of the season in which you are, and that you ask God what his expectation is in this season. You cannot plant and harvest at the same time, nor can you bear fruit while being pruned. You can only acknowledge where you are and do the appropriate work for that season. Don’t decorate for Independence Day while observing Easter.

And, if you are in a soul-season of fall, celebrate pumpkin spice everything.

When I was four, I won a coloring contest. I don’t remember the picture or actually winning; however, I do recall flipping through the pages of a Hasbro toy catalog. You see, the prize was $100 in toys. That was a lot of toys in 1981, $282.89 worth in today’s market-according to the Inflation Calculator-when toys weren’t high-tech, expensive and causing children’s brain synapses to misfire. I also remember not being able to pick out $100 worth of toys that really appealed to me, so I suppose my mom chose the rest of them.

I can’t even imagine now what that even felt like. Oh, my naïve, little self.

When I was a preteen, I’d dream of having enough money to own horses (the Black Stallion, please) and as a teenager, dream of having the money to buy real Guess? clothes, instead of my mom bringing home a yardsale find, carefully removing, and sewing the Guess? label onto my back pocket. I view that now as an act of love.

As a young mom, the desires grew and they were far more expensive. I’d dream of how I’d spend a million dollars, but once I took out taxes, it didn’t really go that far. A new house, a new car, grand vacations, a home decorator, school loans obliterated, the boys’ college paid for, a bi-weekly maid, a weekly massage…the list could go on and on.

Oh, my naïve, little self.

As 40 encroaches on my fleeting youth, I find my desires changing yet again. I don’t want a horse, I wouldn’t be caught dead in the Guess? stonewash of the 80’s, and I prefer old houses and old cars. College for the boys would still be nice, as would a weekly massage, but old desires doesn’t burn as intensely as they once did.

So what is that I want? What is it that I would ask for?

My husband preached a sermon last week from John 16:16-33 and in the middle, he asked the question, “how ‘any’ is anything?”

“Truly, truly I say I say to you, if you ask the Father for anything in My name, He will give it to you. Until now you have asked for nothing in My name; ask and you will receive, so that your joy may be made full.”  (John 16:23b-24 NASB, emphasis mine)

The words of Jesus. Six different times He says to ask and we will receive.

Well, I can tell you right now that I never awoke to The Black Stallion in my backyard, and Edith from Merry Maids never made it to my porch.

So does anything really mean anything?

It’s a touchy subject, given all the “name-it, claim-it” preaching out there. I’m still waiting for the power of positive thinking to park a 1962 Volkswagen Minibus in my garage. Not going to happen, people.

So what might Jesus have meant?

He actually qualifies His statements in a couple of other passages:

“If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, ask whatever you wish and it will be done for you.” (John 15:7, NASB)

“You did not choose Me, but I chose you, and appointed you that you would go and bear fruit, and that your fruit would remain, so that whatever you ask of the Father in My name, He may give it to you.” (John 15:16, NASB)

As the roots of my faith dig down deep, and as my relationship with my Heavenly Father grows, I find myself desiring completely different things than I used to. I don’t desire “stuff.” Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of material things that I would love to have, but when he asks me, “what do you really want?” all the “stuff” falls away.

What do I really want?

I want my boys to make it to heaven. I want to have joy in this life of ministry. I want to be able to find every silver lining. I want my speech to be always with grace. I want to be filled with wisdom and discernment. I want to be deaf to the enemy’s lies. I want to be a reflection of Jesus. I want to be filled to overflowing with his Spirit. I want to have peace in the midst of every storm.

I find that my desires are beginning to meld into his desires, and if I desire what he desires, then, and only then, I can ask for and receive anything I want.

Why?

“So that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If you ask Me anything in My name, I will do it.” (John 14:13b-14 NASB)

If what I’m asking for will not bring glory to the Father, I can hang it up. This thought has restructured my requests, simply because I’m not sure they would bring him glory, not to mention, they may not be in my own best interest.

Let me put it this way:

I’d do anything for my boys. Anything.  I’d throw myself in front of a train, I’d give them the last morsel of food (I’d have to think long and hard if that food was Pad Thai), I’d stay up all night with them, I’d give them the last drink of water (although one of them would probably already be dead for all the fighting over it). You can’t really even put something like this into words. I’d die for my children.

HOWEVER, you and I both know that anything has its limitations. Even for someone who would give up her life for her offspring. I’m not going to go out and get them a baggie of cocaine if they asked for it. I’m not going to give in to their desire of a 2015 Porsche 918 Spyder. I’m not going to let them eat Ding Dongs and Big Macs for every meal. I’m not going to allow them pick up the latest single by Skalley Mental. I’m not going to leave them to hang out in their bedrooms with their girlfriends while I’m off shopping at the mall.

I’d do anything for those boys, but not anything.

And this is how I view the words of Jesus.

Anything, but not anything.

So, what is it that you are asking for?

Before you answer that, ask yourself two questions: “am I abiding in him?” and “will what I want bring God glory?”

You might just see your desires start to shift, which is a good thing especially if Guess? is on that list.

Up until more recently than I’d like to admit, the most I knew about Lent was the mysterious time of year when a banner was strung out over the road as you came into town, announcing the “Kiwanis’ Lenten Fish Fry EVERY Friday Night!” And as mysteriously as it appeared, it disappeared. That, and Lent was a Catholic thing.

Have I ever told you that ignorance drives me crazy?

Have I ever told you that I also love irony? Especially when irony collides with my own ignorance.

So imagine my surprise when I discovered that Lent is more than a fish fry on Fridays.

Have I ever told you what it feels like to have reality, dark reality, sink in deep? I’m a slow learner.

40 days to the cross.

40 days to the reality of a brutal death.

40 days of remembrance of my own redemption.

Lent is not just a Catholic thing, but a catholic thing.

I’ve thrown myself into the traditional observance of Lent (because I’m an all-or-nothing kind of girl). I’ve done 40-day devotionals, set aside more time than usual to be quietly meditative, fasted from certain foods, soda, and social media.

Until this year.

This year, I pondered if I had let my fasting become a fad, the cool “Lent-thing” to do. I ran across a blog article by Karen Ehman before Lent began that introduced a new viewpoint for me. One that I thought might take me out of the Lent-rut I was in. It’s called “The Reverse-Lent Challenge” and includes ideas such as jotting a note, making a phone call, lightening a load, helping a stranger—small acts of service to do for each day of Lent.  After I shared the concept with my husband, he pointed me to this Scripture passage:

“Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God, rose from supper. He laid aside his outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around his waist. He poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around him.”  —John 13:3-5 (ESV)

Taking a towel. Jesus took something on in order to serve others.

That’s how I have chosen to approach Lent this year. Backwards. Taking on, instead of giving up.

After three weeks in, it hasn’t always been easy. Some people aren’t easy to serve. Going back to Jesus’ towel, there are some who make you want to throw it in, some you want to make cute animals for, some you want to snap sharply. The way I have decided to serve others is small, yet has been challenging. It has even been a sacrifice; surprising, not in its physical difficulty, but in the laying down of pride I didn’t know existed. Attempting to demonstrate the same kind of humility Christ showed to not just the ones who exhibited their love for him, but to the ones who denied and betrayed him (who often were one and the same.)

Sacrificing, whether by giving up or taking on. Sacrificing to remember the ultimate Sacrifice.

Isn’t that the point of Lent?

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” (Philippians 4:8 ESV)

To “set the tone” means: to establish a particular mood or character for something.

So what?

For many years, well, actually all of them up until very recently, the phrase, “setting the tone” didn’t really mean much to me. It simply didn’t apply, since I wasn’t involved in management or any position that required supervision of people under me. “Setting the tone” was placed neatly in an alphabetized file of business terms stored in my head.

Not long ago, God redefined for me what “setting the tone” actually looks like. For ALL of us. For me, the mom and pastor’s wife; for you, from the teenager who works fast-food, to the CEO on the verge of retirement; from the college student nanny, to the elderly, whose care is being overseen by hospice. The importance of the tone we set when we are with others has left me, well, no less than wide-eyed.

Think about it.

Who are those people you enjoy working with?

Why?

If you do a lot of visiting, as I do, are there those you enjoy visiting more than others?

Why?

Who are those people who drain you? Who are those people who energize you?

Why?

Which one of those people are you?

While you’re pondering that, let me give you a few thoughts about “setting the tone.”

1. The tone we set is directly affected by how much time we spend in communication with God. Let’s face it, what’s going on inside manifests itself loudly on the outside. And “loudly” doesn’t necessarily mean spoken words. I’ll be transparent here for a moment: if I miss more than a couple of days in a row of personal devotions, I start to get cranky. For real. The same thing happens when I’m physically hungry. Eerie similarities, huh? Not really. Hunger is hunger and it’s not pretty.

2. Before we can set a proper tone for others, we must set a proper tone for ourselves. Oh, so important. If we, ourselves, “feed” on negativity – whether it be the lies of Satan, our own self-hate, or internalizing criticism from others – negativity is what we’re going to display. Read the following scripture verse, just in case you just skimmed it the first time.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things”.

Setting the proper tone for ourselves means filling our minds with the things listed above. Where do most of our internal battles begin? Yes, in our minds. Making the choice (yes, it is a choice) to believe the truth that God has given us isn’t always easy. In fact, a lot of times, it’s downright hard, which is why we need to rewind to the previous verse in Philippians: “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7 ESV)

It’s true. Take my word for it. His peace will guard your heart and mind if you’ll ask Him for it.

3. We set the tone in our marriage, our family, our friendships, our ministry and our place of employment. This is just scary, but it’s reality. How many times have you walked into a room, and the moment you stepped in the door, you could literally feel the mood, whether negative or positive?

I’ve been on both sides of this; either feeling the excitement being generated or figuratively getting rained on (not to mention being struck occasionally by lightning) when I walked in. On the flip side, I hate to admit that I can be the one thundering around, throwing the bolts and singing (and I use “singing” loosely), “I’m Just a Little Black Raincloud.”

Disclaimer: I’m not referring to those instances where a grim medical prognosis, tragedy, unexpected loss, bad news, or just a plain, ole’ rough day was experienced. I am referring to the pervading sense of needing to walk on eggshells around some people on a consistent basis.

I must continue to honestly evaluate whether I affect those around me in a negative or positive way. I represent Jesus to my spouse, my family, my friends, my co-workers, and to all those I influence in my ministry. Am I setting a tone that lifts up my husband, affirms my kids, encourages my friends, and inspires my congregation?

Am I setting a tone that energizes or drains?

Am I setting a tone that confirms I am living Philippians 4:8?

They are questions worth answering.