Next Sunday, we will not simply be hearing from a missionary in Ethiopia—we will be receiving from a brother who has already poured into us. The men of Belmont remember the times Haile sat with us, not above us, but among us, and told us about the crusades in Ethiopia—the dusty fields filled with hungry hearts, the long journeys, the spiritual resistance, the limited resources, and yet the overwhelming presence of God when the gospel is preached. He did not speak to impress us; he spoke to awaken us. He challenged us to seek God with all our hearts, not casually, not culturally, but desperately. He reminded us that in Ethiopia faith is not a convenience—it is survival, surrender, and daily dependence. When he opened the Word with us, it confronted us. When he spoke of obedience, it stirred us. And when he prayed over us, those prayers were not polished or performative—they were anointed, weighty, and born from real need. He prayed as a man who knows what it costs to trust God. He prayed that we would not grow comfortable, that we would not drift into routine Christianity, that we would labor together in one harvest. Because of our obedience, villages hear the gospel. Because of our giving, crusades are held. Because we stand, he goes. But through his challenges and his prayers, we were reminded that we are not spectators to missions—we are partners in it. We are not separated by continents; we are sent together under one Lord, one gospel, and one Spirit.

During these first weeks of Missions Month, you have been saying that missions is not just something on a church calendar but the very heartbeat of God, and I did not understand that before. I only understood fear as I carried my sick child to the Medical Missions Outreach clinic, not knowing how I would pay for medicine or if his fever would break. I did not know your church’s name, I did not know where Belmont was, and I did not know that people across the ocean were praying—but God knew. I came expecting treatment for my child, and they cared for him with gentleness and gave him the medicine he needed, but they also prayed over us and told me about Jesus, about a Savior who sees a mother’s tears and carries her burdens. I came for medicine, but I received hope; I came desperate, but I left forgiven; I came afraid, but I left with peace. When you bowed your head and asked, “Lord, what would You have me do?” and obeyed through your giving, heaven was already arranging my appointment. Your obedience lowered my child’s fever, placed a Bible in my hands, and brought light into my darkness. Missions is no longer a word to me—it is the healing of my child, the salvation of my soul, and the hope that now fills my home. So when you ask the Lord again what He would have you do, please remember that obedience has a face, and sometimes it looks like a mother who came for medicine and left with Jesus.

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

“The earth is the LORD’S, and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein.”
— Psalm 24:1

Every struggle in stewardship eventually comes down to one question: Who owns it? Not how much. Not when. Not even why. Ownership determines everything. Until this is settled, giving will always feel like loss. Surrender will feel like pressure. Obedience will feel negotiable. But when ownership is settled in the heart, peace replaces pressure, worship replaces strain, and faith replaces fear. The issue is not the amount in your hand. The issue is the authority over your heart.

When something belongs to me, I defend it. I control it. I decide what portion God may have. This mindset sounds subtle but shapes everything. If I view my income, my possessions, my time, or even my family as mine, then God becomes a recipient of my generosity rather than the Owner of it all. Giving then feels like subtraction.

Fear whispers:
“What if you need this later?”
“What if there isn’t enough?”
“What if obedience costs too much?”

In this posture, stewardship becomes calculation. Worship becomes conditional. And generosity becomes difficult. The rich young ruler in Matthew 19 struggled here. He obeyed commandments, lived morally, and desired eternal life. But when Jesus said, “Sell that thou hast,” his sorrow revealed the truth. He did not possess wealth—wealth possessed him. Ownership had not been surrendered. Where ownership remains with us, anxiety thrives.

But when ownership shifts, everything changes. David understood this when he prayed, “For all things come of thee, and of thine own have we given thee” (1 Chronicles 29:14). David was not giving God something that originated with him. He was returning what had always belonged to the Lord. That revelation settles the heart. A steward does not panic over what belongs to the Owner. A steward listens. A steward obeys. A steward trusts. The tithe becomes settled, not debated. Offerings become revealed, not pressured. Giving becomes worship, not strain. When we truly believe Psalm 24:1, stewardship becomes an act of alignment with heaven. Peace follows surrender.

Genesis 22 gives us the clearest picture of ownership settled. Abraham placed Isaac on the altar—not because he did not love him, but because he loved God more. Isaac was the promise, the future, the fulfillment of decades of waiting. Yet Abraham had already settled the ownership question long before the test came. Isaac did not belong to Abraham. He belonged to God. The altar does not create devotion—it reveals it. Whatever we hesitate to surrender often reveals what we quietly believe we own. When ownership is settled, obedience becomes immediate. Faith grows in the space where control dies.

Imagine managing a property for someone else. If a pipe bursts, you do not panic as if your personal wealth is disappearing. You notify the owner and follow instructions. Why? Because it is not yours. But if you believe it is your property, every crack feels catastrophic. Many believers live spiritually anxious because they are trying to “own” what was never theirs. When we finally say, “Lord, it is Yours,” the weight lifts. The responsibility shifts back to the rightful Owner. Stewardship brings peace. Ownership brings pressure. The real question of giving is not, “How much can I keep?” It is, “Do I trust the Owner?”

When everything belongs to Him:

• We release fear.
• We surrender control.
• We give with joy.
• We obey without hesitation.

Faith expands where ownership is surrendered. Settle the title deed in your heart. It was never yours to begin with.

Warfare Prayer: Father, in the name of Jesus, I renounce the lie that I am the owner of what You have entrusted to me. I break agreement with fear, control, and self-protection. Every resource, every relationship, every opportunity belongs to You. Remove anxiety that comes from clinging. Silence the voice that tells me to hoard what You have called me to steward. Establish in my heart the truth of Your lordship. I surrender the title deed back to You today. You are Owner. I am steward. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Daily Challenge: Today, physically place something in your hands—a wallet, your keys, your calendar—and say aloud: “Lord, this belongs to You.” Then ask honestly: “What would You have me do with what is Yours?” Listen carefully. Obey promptly.

Baby Mary Marin – RSV – ICU CHOA – Still Very sick but better

Aston Savage

Britany Smith ~ Breast Cancer

Darlene Kelley – Cancer Treatment

Don And Carol Franklin – Mae’s Uncle

Ed Franklin’s Son In Law – Heart Surgery

Gloria Young

Jason Gibson

Jean Partee

Sandra Mitchell

Tammy Shelnutt

Amy Garner’s Dad

Bentley Smith – Broken Leg

Carol Lawhead – Riverside in Conyers

Joni Oberhage

Linda Mays

Myles Elliott

Rose Fuller – Pruitt-Monroe Nursing Home, Forsyth GA

Brando Echarte

Debbie Foskey 

Don Franklin’s Daughter, Darlene, Son, David

Ed Adkins – Friend of Brian Edwards

Jake Jenkins

June Cronan

Jean Partee’s Sister

Kim McClain’s Daughter, Amanda

Deon Lotter

Doris Loyd

Nancy Brown

Annette Ford

Andrea Nix– Friend of the Shelnutt’s

Angela Bryan’s Sisters

Ann Stanley  

Danny Jarrard  

Darlene Wiggins

Doris Loyd

Dr. and Mrs. Davis

Eric Magnusson’s Mother

Eric Ward

Friend of Linda Hodge

Gayle Sparks

James Burnette

Jessica Headrick  

John McClain’s Mother

June Cronan’s Sister

June Davis

Kailey Bateman

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

Scott Lanier 

Scotty Nix

Stephanie Seivers – Friend of the Shelnutt’s

Steve Michaels

Tom Witcher