We who follow Jesus, we are His body. We are His hands, His feet, His mouth.
And I have been thinking about how that looks in my life, every day.
Sometimes Jesus's arms wrap around one of my sons when they get their feelings hurt, when they are angry, when they are sad.
Sometimes Jesus speaks words of encouragement after a tough math lesson. Sometimes His words tell a little one that they are beautiful, amazing, loved. Sometimes His words teach, correct, discipline.
Sometimes Jesus's feet walk down my hall to peek in on sleeping babies.
Sometimes Jesus's hands tenderly bathe my children, chop vegetables for a meal, massage my husband's shoulders, bandage scrapes and cuts and turn pages of book after book after book He takes the time to read aloud.
Sometimes, when I realize I am His vessel, I see that as I let Him live through me, He blesses all whose lives I touch.
May our bodies be living sacrifices