Consider Your Ways

“Now, therefore, thus says the Lord of Hosts: Consider your ways.”  Haggai 1:5 ESV

Healthy things start with a change in the mindset first

I pause at the words, “Consider your ways,” and feel their weight settle in my chest like the scales beneath my feet. Jeans that once slipped on easily now resist, buttons straining. I shift my eating—salads replaced by the comfort of a cheeseburger, carbs controlled until cravings twist my resolve. DoorDash’s knock is easier than heating a skillet. I watch the numbers climb, read Haggai, and realize I’m rebuilding a life just like they did—enjoying freedom but hardly glancing at the temple. Except my temple is flesh and bone, and I’m not giving it much thought either.

My body is God’s temple, yet I treat it as a convenience store—grab what’s easy, skip what’s nourishing. Salad scares on the news tilt my choices toward grease and fries. I try to rein in carbs, but cravings barrel through, and protein sits neglected. Hunger lingers, a reminder that I’m not fueling my temple. Cooking feels like a chore, so I let apps feed me instead. The barriers to dropping those stubborn pounds aren’t just physical—they’re woven through my mind, layered with habits and excuses. I wonder why the scales refuse to budge, but God’s words echo: “Consider your ways.”

I’ve seen my body respond to health—clear skin, energy, ease in movement—but that isn’t always enough to keep me on track. Exercise feels like punishment, not worship. Trainers, gym memberships, marathon dreams—they’ve all passed through my life, none becoming home. When I walked early mornings, praying for my mother as cancer fought in her body, I found a rhythm—steps in sync with God’s presence, worship music filling my soul, scripture grounding my mornings. After she was gone, the walking stopped, and so did the connection. I hear the same call: “Consider your ways.”

Today, another verse presses in: “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. I sit with gratitude and conviction, recognizing how easily my mind drifts from honoring the temple God gave me. Not just in food or exercise, but in the thoughts I allow. I remember years spent battling suicidal ideation, the eating disorder that haunted my teens, the silent struggle that stayed hidden. Maybe I’m sharing too much, but this is what it means to consider my ways.

Changing habits—what I eat, how I move—begins with a mind shift. It’s not about losing weight or chasing a size, but about honoring God, cherishing the gift of this body, His temple. The transformation starts inside: seeing myself as worthy of care, hearing His call to stewardship, and letting gratitude fuel my choices. When my mind honors God’s design, my habits follow—nutritious meals, joyful movement, a life rebuilt in reverence. The temple isn’t just a building or a number on the scale; it’s a sacred space, and it begins in my mind. Consider my ways.

So, as I sit here considering my ways, I realize that true change comes when I see myself as deserving of the same care and attention I would give to any sacred place. It’s not about perfection, but progress—choosing each day to honor the temple God has entrusted to me, even in small ways. Whether it’s preparing a nourishing meal, taking a walk in gratitude, or simply pausing to reflect and pray, these moments build a life that respects His design.

Now, I invite you to pause and reflect: What ways have you been overlooking your own temple? What small steps can you take today to honor your body, mind, and spirit? I challenge you—just as Haggai challenged his people—to consider your ways, and take one action this week that honors the gift you’ve been given. Let’s rebuild together, starting from the inside out.