Cover It With Love

Like the farmer who faithfully sows good seed into the ground, I woke up this morning deeply grateful for the seeds of truth my Father has planted in the good soil of my heart.

Seeds that are now producing a harvest for His glory.

I found myself repeating this verse:

“Do you not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies.”
— 1 Corinthians 6:19–20

Pause.

Reread that.

God lives in me.

Not around me. Not near me. Not just watching over me from heaven.

In me.

My body is a temple of the Holy Spirit.

And today, that truth feels less like a verse I have memorized and more like a seed that has finally taken root.

I recently wrote a blog titled When the Ink Fades, the Words Remain about the seasons of life that never really leave us. Even when the years pass, they remain tucked inside our hearts—still speaking, still shaping, still reminding us of who God was to us in that moment.

Some words fade from paper.

Some ink disappears.

But the words God writes on the heart remain.

As I near the end of a health condition that has been holding on for probably twenty years, I am overwhelmed with gratitude.

Grateful to God for creating my body.

Grateful for a body that heals.

Grateful for the privilege of taking God at His Word when He reminds me:

I am the temple of the Holy Spirit.

That truth changes how I see myself.

It changes how I care for myself.

It changes how I move forward.

My desire to declare this truth and live it out by honoring Him with my body has become part of my determined purpose.

Just like a farmer planting good seed, I want to sow what is true.

Believe.

Believe again.

Believe even when the harvest is still underground.

God has given us everything we need for life and godliness through the knowledge of Him who called us by His own glory and goodness. And through that glory and goodness, He has given us His very great and precious promises, so that we may participate in His divine nature and escape the corruption of the world caused by evil desires.

What a promise.

What a Father.

What a seed to plant deep.

As we prepare to leave the place we have been calling home on a ranch in Granbury and head west on an adventurous, harmonious journey, I was asked yesterday by a close friend, “How did you make the adjustment to RV life?”

My answer came easily.

“We have been adjusting ever since we decided to prioritize God, people, and our relationship over possessions and live simpler.”

That is the seed we have been sowing.

Less stuff.

More presence.

Less striving.

More surrender.

Less clinging.

More trusting.

And isn’t that what farming teaches us?

You don’t reap what you wish for.

You reap what you sow.

The seeds we plant matter.

The words we believe matter.

The truths we repeat matter.

The habits we practice matter.

The way we care for our bodies, our marriages, our homes, our friendships, and our faith matters.

Some seeds take longer than others.

Some seasons feel quiet.

Some fields look empty for a while.

But God is always working beneath the surface.

This morning, I am grateful for the good seed.

Grateful for the good soil.

Grateful for the healing.

Grateful for the journey.

Grateful for the Holy Spirit within me.

And grateful that the words God plants in the heart do not fade.

They grow.

They produce.

They become a harvest for His glory.

Reap what you sow.

So today, I choose to sow truth.

I choose to sow gratitude.

I choose to sow love.

I choose to honor God with this body, this life, this journey, and this heart.

Because I am not my own.

I was bought at a price.

And by His grace, I want the harvest of my life to point back to Him.

Cover It With Love!