There comes a holy moment when faith loosens its grip, and what once felt like loss becomes liberty. Surrender is not the end of strength—it is the beginning of divine exchange. It is the quiet courage to release what was never mine to control, and to trust the Father who holds both the plan and the process. When my hands stop clinging, His peace rushes in like the calm after a storm. True surrender is not defeat; it is devotion. It is not bowing to circumstance but believing in sovereignty. To yield is not to quit—it is to confess that God writes better endings than I do. The freedom of surrender begins where the illusion of control finally breaks. In Gethsemane, Jesus showed us that victory is not earned by resistance but received through rest. The garden was not a place of escape, but of exchange—where self-will was crucified and divine will prevailed. Every “nevertheless” we whisper in our own dark night becomes an altar where heaven bends low and grace strengthens trembling hearts. God does not always remove the cup, but He always provides the grace to drink it. Surrender is not weak; it is warfare in its purest form. It dethrones pride and silences panic. It frees the heart from the tyranny of self and the slavery of control. When pride bows, grace rises; when our striving stops, God begins to move. What once looked like death becomes a doorway to resurrection. Every tear shed on the soil of surrender waters seeds of unshakable faith. The greatest worship is not found in applause but in abandonment—the whispered confession, “Lord, I trust You even here.” When we stop measuring outcomes and start magnifying obedience, the peace that passes understanding takes command. It is not the strong who win the will of God—it is the surrendered who are won by it. In that holy yielding, resurrection power is born. Surrender does not end in loss; it ends in life. What feels like burial is often the planting of something eternal. When we bow low, God stands tall. When we release, He reigns. The altar becomes our battlefield—the sacred ground where our will dies, His will lives, and freedom begins to sing.

GO TO www.belmontbaptistchurch.com/sermons and listen to Sunday’s message.

Let Go of the Rope

“The LORD shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace.”Exodus 14:14

The Battle Between Control and Trust

The tug-of-war picture is my life: blistered hands, stubborn will, little movement. I call it perseverance; God calls me to release. Letting go does not mean losing—it means handing the rope back to the only One who never lost control. The Israelites couldn’t outthink Pharaoh’s army, but they could outtrust him—because faith stands still when flesh wants to strive. The more I thrash in the water, the harder it is for the Lifeguard to carry me; stillness is not passivity—it is consent to be rescued.

The Stillness That Opens Seas

I mistake noise for faith; heaven often meets me in silence. Control seems safe, but it keeps me in shallow peace and constant fatigue. Israel’s deliverance came not by noise or panic but by obedience and waiting. God parts seas for still hearts, not striving hands. Sometimes the sound of faith is quiet breathing in His presence, the whisper of surrender between clenched teeth. The Red Sea did not part because Israel engineered a plan; it opened because God honored a surrendered people led by a trusting shepherd.

The Freedom of Yielded Hands

Peace is not the reward for a solved problem; it is the gift for a yielded will. Every rope I refuse to drop becomes a leash that ties me to fear. Every time I let go, heaven proves that surrender isn’t weakness—it’s worship. Trust feels risky, yet it ushers me into God’s custody and calm. If I live clenched, I live small; if I open my hands, I make room for God’s grip. Today I choose to stop arguing with outcomes and start agreeing with God’s government over my heart.

Heart Check

  1. What rope am I burning my hands on right now?
  2. How do I confuse frantic activity with faithful obedience?
  3. Where do I need to practice stillness so the Lifeguard can carry me?

Prayer: Lord, I unclench my hands. Fight for me as I hold my peace. Govern my thoughts, settle my breath, and lift me with Your strong arm. Teach me to rest, to wait, and to trust that You part seas in Your time. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Challenge: Practice a 5–5–5 today:

  • Five minutes of Scripture (read Psalm 46)
  • Five minutes of silence
  • Five minutes of simple prayer: “Lord, I trust Your grip.”

Debbie Foskey – Surgery November 24th 

George & Linda Alexander 

Jessica Headrick  

Sheila Simmons

Amanda Elliott

Brando Echarte

Danny Jarrard   

Betty Hammock

Cheryl Knight’s Brother

Don Franklin’s Daughter, Darlene

Jean Partee’s Sister

Kathryn Rains 

Deon Lotter

Doris Loyd

Nancy Brown

Amy Garner’s Dad

Annette Ford

Andrea Nix– Friend of the Shelnutt’s

Angela Bryan’s Sister

Ann Stanley  

Carol Lawhead – Park Place Rehab in Monroe

Darlene Wiggins

Doris Loyd

Dr. and Mrs. Davis

Eric Magnusson’s Mother

Eric Ward

Friend of Linda Hodge

Gayle Sparks

James Burnette

John McClain’s Mother

June Cronan’s Sister

June Davis

Kailey Bateman

Kathryn Raines

Kim McClain’s Mother 

Kim’s Sisters – Ann & Brenda 

Lee Cronan

Lillianna Magnusson’s Mom

Lonzo Christian 

Lori Blount’s Mother

Mary Williams

Mary Williamson – Dana Jackson’s Mom

Mrs. Franklin 

Nora Allison

Ron And Johnnie Barry – Friends Of Ashton & Glenda Bateman

Rose Fuller – Pruitt-Monroe Nursing Home, Forsyth GA

Scott Lanier 

Scotty Nix

Stephanie Seivers – Friend of the Shellnutts

Steve Michaels

Tom Witcher