I look in the mirror and see smile lines crinkle around my eyes. My hair is graying, and middle age spread is spreading about my middle. I don’t look much like Jesus. I look like a homeschooling mom hanging on by a thread: rumpled clothes because I had no time to iron, and hair that was brushed hours ago at 7:00 a.m. Looking at my spattered apron, you’d have no idea that Jesus lives in me.
His Word says I’m a temple of His Holy Spirit.