I Don’t Have To Run Your Life

WELCOME

Good morning, church family.

It’s a gift to gather here today—

to breathe,

to rest,

to lay down the noise of the week,

and to remember that we belong to a God who carries us far more than we realize.

Wherever you find yourself today—

strong or tired,

hopeful or anxious,

full of clarity or full of questions—

you are welcome here.

This is a safe place for your heart,

because the presence of Jesus is a safe place for your soul.

We have come to meet Him,

to hear Him,

and to let Him do in us

what only He can do.

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REFLECTIVE QUESTION

Before we open the Word, let me ask you a question—

a question not for your neighbor,

not for your spouse,

not for your children,

but for you:

Is there someone in your life you’ve been trying to carry…

someone you’ve been trying to fix, shape, steer, or control…

someone you worry about more than you trust God with?

Just hold that person gently in your heart.

Because God may invite you today

to place them back in His hands.

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SHORT INTRODUCTION

This morning I want to talk about something all of us feel—sometimes loudly, sometimes quietly, but always deeply.

It’s that pressure we put on ourselves to hold the world together…

to keep people on the right track…

to rescue those we love…

to make sure others think right, behave right, walk right, and turn out right.

It’s exhausting, isn’t it?

We don’t usually talk about it, but we carry it.

And we carry it because we care.

But caring can turn into controlling without us ever noticing.

Today, Romans 14 offers us a gift—

a gift of rest,

a gift of release,

a gift of remembering that there are parts of other people’s lives

that Jesus never asked you to carry.

He’s already carrying them.

And He’s very good at His job.

So today’s message is very simple:

Jesus has this—

you don’t have to.

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THE RIVER STORY — OPENING HOOK

I once watched a group of children floating lazily down a quiet river on big inner tubes.

No paddles.

No effort.

No urgency.

They simply rested back, allowed the sun to warm their faces, and trusted the river to carry them downstream. Their laughter echoed long before they came into view around the bend.

A little farther up the bank, an anxious adult stood shouting instructions:

“Move left!”

“Watch that rock!”

“Stay in the middle!”

“Don’t get too close to the bank!”

He waved his arms wildly.

He tried to steer children he could not reach.

He tried to control something he did not cause.

He tried to supervise a current far stronger and wiser than he was.

And the children?

They ignored him completely.

The river had them.

The current was doing all the work he was straining to do.

As I watched, something settled into my spirit:

How many of God’s people is He carrying with perfect strength, perfect patience, and perfect wisdom—while the rest of us stand on the bank trying to run their lives?

We fear what might happen if we let go.

We fear what they will choose.

We fear what consequences may come.

And without realizing it, we step into a role we were never designed to have.

We become the anxious adult on the bank, waving our arms, shouting instructions, trying to manage a river that does not belong to us.

And this is exactly where Paul meets us in Romans 14.

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BEGINNING OF THE MESSAGE

The church in Rome was made up of people who deeply loved Jesus—but they did not trust Jesus with one another.

They had beliefs, convictions, traditions, and personal histories.

They had strong opinions and tender consciences.

They were sincere.

They were passionate.

And they were judging each other to death.

Some felt free to eat anything.

Others believed they should eat only vegetables.

Some still honored certain sacred days.

Others felt every day was the same.

Both sides were absolutely convinced they were right.

And both were certain the other needed correction.

So what does Paul do?

He doesn’t write a doctrinal statement to settle the issue.

He doesn’t take sides.

He doesn’t scold one group and defend the other.

Paul does something far more healing:

He lifts their eyes.

He takes the entire conversation out of their small, cramped circle of arguments

and sets it in the vast landscape of God’s grace, God’s kingdom, and God’s authority.

He begins with one of the most liberating lines in Scripture:

“Who are you to judge another man’s servant?”

(Romans 14:4)

Paul is not insulting them.

He is freeing them.

He is saying:

“You are exhausted because you are trying to run someone else’s life.

You are carrying a burden Jesus never handed you.