SEPTEMBER THEME – THE MIND OF CHRIST — Thinking Like Jesus in a Broken World
SUNDAY’S SERMON SUMMARY
Life often bends us so low that our heads hang heavy with grief, regret, or fear. We pray, yet heaven feels silent; we try, yet nothing changes. Like a cast sheep flat on its back, legs thrashing, lungs gasping, or like a soldier stumbling home with dented armor and a broken sword, we feel too weak to rise. Surrounded by the arrows of accusation, drowning in floods of anxiety, or wandering through valleys where the shadows never lift—we whisper, “I can’t do this anymore.” And yet, it is here, in our lowest, weakest, most desperate places, that God draws near. Into the silence of despair breaks the defiant hope of Psalm 3:3: “But Thou, O Lord, art a shield for me; my glory, and the lifter up of mine head.” What was defeat becomes deliverance, what was despair becomes hope, for when our strength fails, the Shepherd carries us; when our vision fades, the Rock sets us high; when our head hangs low, His nail-scarred hand gently lifts our face toward heaven.
This is the gospel in living color. Jesus is the lifter of your head when you are face down in the dust. He is your shield when fear’s arrows surround you. He is the Rock who raises you above the flood, the Shepherd who steadies your trembling legs, the Companion who restores vision in the valley, and the Singer who calms your fears in the night. The Christian life is not about how strong we can be, but about how faithful our Shepherd is. It is not our grip on Him that secures us—it is His grip on us. So weary one, take heart: you are not forgotten, not forsaken, not finished. The Shepherd is near. He has come to lift you, shield you, carry you, restore you, and sing over you until at last He brings you safely home.
GO TO www.belmontbaptistchurch.com/sermons and listen to Sunday’s message.
Beats From Your Pastor’s Heart
When You Can’t Breathe Under the Weight
“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” — Matthew 11:28
Imagine yourself lying flat on the ground, pinned beneath a mountain of heavy stones. Each stone has a name: regret, failure, guilt, fear, loss. They are piled higher and higher until you can no longer move your arms or lift your head. Your chest is crushed, your lungs scream for air, and every breath feels like it will be your last. You cry for help, but your voice is muffled under the weight. That’s what sin, shame, and sorrow feel like. Life doesn’t just bruise you—it buries you. But then, into that suffocating darkness, you hear footsteps. Not the voice of someone shouting from a distance, “Keep pushing! Try harder!” No—hands stronger than the mountain reach under the rubble. Fingers scarred by nails grip the stones, and one by one, they shatter and roll away. The weight that pinned you down is lifted, and suddenly your chest rises again—you can breathe. That’s Jesus. He doesn’t stand at the top of the mountain demanding effort; He stoops low, tears the weight apart, and frees you with His strength.
Think of this: you’ve been carrying a backpack so full of bricks that it cuts into your shoulders and bends your spine. You drag it everywhere—into your job, into your home, even into your prayers. People see you smile, but if they could see the weight strapped to your soul, they’d be shocked. Then Jesus comes. He doesn’t add to your load; He takes it off completely. He says, “This was never meant for you to carry. Give it to Me.” And when He lifts it, you stand straighter. Your shoulders loosen. Your heart feels light. That’s rest—not an afternoon nap, not a vacation, but the soul-deep relief of laying down a weight you were never strong enough to bear.
There’s a reason Jesus says, “Come unto me…” He knows we will suffocate if we don’t. The devil whispers, “You’ve made your bed, now lie in it.” Guilt says, “You’ll never climb out of this.” Fear says, “The mountain will crush you forever.” But Jesus says, “Come. Let me take it.” The cross proves He meant it. On Calvary, He let the full weight of the world’s sin fall on Him. Every rock of guilt, every stone of shame, every boulder of judgment—He carried them to the grave so you wouldn’t have to. And when He rose, the mountain stayed buried in the tomb, but you walked free. That’s why He can look you in the eye, even when you’re gasping under the load, and promise: “I will give you rest.”
Prayer: Lord, when my soul gasps beneath the weight, be my breath and my rest. Thank You for carrying what I cannot. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
Challenge: When you feel pressure today, whisper: “I will not carry this alone.” Then, picture handing every stone—regret, guilt, fear, loss—into the hands of the Shepherd who carries mountains with ease.
MONDAY’S PRAYER REQUESTS
Ron And Johnnie Barry – Friends Of Ashton & Glenda Bateman
Andrea Nix– Friend of the Shelnutt’s
Angela Bryan’s Sister
Ann Stanley
Carol Lawhead – Park Place Rehab in Monroe
Danny Jarrard – Knee Surgery Soon
Debbie Foskey
James Parker
Jessica Headrick
Kim McClain’s Mother
Kim’s Sisters – Ann & Brenda
Linda Mays
Sheila Simmons
Darlene Wiggins
Doris Loyd
Dr. and Mrs. Davis
Eric Magnusson’s Mother
Eric Ward
Friend of Linda Hodge
Gayle Sparks
George & Linda Alexander
James Burnette
James Garner
Jason Parker
John McClain’s Mother
John Parillo
June Cronan’s Sister
June Davis
Kailey Bateman
Kathryn Raines
Lee Cronan
Lillianna Magnusson’s Mom
Linda Breedlove’s Sister – Sarah
Lonzo Christian
Lori Blount’s Mother
Mary Williams
Mary Williamson – Dana Jackson’s Mom
Mrs. Franklin
Nora Allison
Rose Fuller – Pruitt-Monroe Nursing Home, Forsyth GA
Sadie Almand
Scott Lanier
Scotty Nix
Stephanie Seivers – Friend of the Shellnutts
Steve Michaels
Tom Witcher