There is a line in Psalm 24 that stops us in our tracks: this world is not random, ownerless, or up for grabs. Every inch of soil, every drop of water, every human life—yours included—is under God’s claim. We live, move, and make our choices inside a reality He designed, sustains, and rightfully rules. That truth is both humbling and thrilling, because it means your life is not small, and your moments are not meaningless. They are part of something that belongs to Him.

The World Is Claimed, Not Vacant

Psalm 24 opens with a bold banner over creation: “The earth is the LORD’s, and the fullness thereof, the world and all who dwell therein” (Psalm 24:1). Nothing is outside His ownership—land and oceans, governments and galaxies, bank accounts and breath. God does not rent this universe; He owns it outright. When you walk outside, you are not stepping onto neutral ground. You are walking on property that already has a Name on the deed.

That means your life is not self-authored. Colossians says, “For in Him all things were created, things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible… All things were created through Him and for Him” (Colossians 1:16). You were made “for Him.” Your talents, your time, even your story—He holds the title. The more this sinks in, the less we cling to the illusion of control and the more we can rest in His wise, personal rule over everything.

You Are Not an Owner; You Are a Steward

If God owns it all, then what does that make us? Scripture answers clearly: caretakers. “Every beast of the forest is Mine, the cattle on a thousand hills” (Psalm 50:10). If even the animals belong to Him, then the money in your account, the home you live in, the body you inhabit, all come under the same banner. We don’t actually possess; we manage on His behalf. That changes how we budget, how we schedule, how we dream.

Paul drives this home: “You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore glorify God with your body” (1 Corinthians 6:19–20). Bought. Not your own. That’s not a threat; it’s liberation. You no longer have to invent your own purpose or carry the crushing weight of being your own master. You get to ask a better question: “Lord, how do You want me to use what is already Yours—my gifts, my relationships, my resources—today?”

Living Boldly in a Borrowed World

When you know the earth is the Lord’s, you stop living as a squatter and start living as a trusted ambassador. Fear loosens its grip, because the One who owns everything also promises, “I will never leave you or forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5). If the world and everyone in it belong to Him, then no headline, diagnosis, or disappointment can dethrone Him. Even in chaos, the title deed of creation is still in His hand.

This gives courage for mission. The God who says, “For from Him and through Him and to Him are all things” (Romans 11:36) sends you into His world to display His glory. Sharing the gospel, serving a neighbor, raising children in the faith, giving generously—none of it is wasted, because you are working on the Owner’s side of history. Today is not ordinary; it is another page in His story, and you get to step into it with open hands.

Father, thank You that the earth and my life belong to You. Help me live today as a faithful steward—use my time, my words, and my resources for Your glory.

Most religious people have been guilty of multiplying words as substitutes for worthy deeds, and of all such the writer of these lines is probably the worst offender. But because we have offended is not sufficient reason for our going on to repeat the offense. It is better that we face the whole thing with self-effacing humility and try to correct our fault.

It remains only to be said that where shallow eloquence is most out of place and where it is oftenest found is the prayer meeting. The most halting speaker seems to become unusually fluent when he kneels to pray, especially when he has an audience. I have heard much flowery speech in the prayer room, and I suppose I have uttered a good deal of it. But again, there is no reason for continuing to utter words without wisdom. A conscious sense of the presence of God is a wonderful cure for empty talk, whether in the pulpit or in the pew.

When the Holy Spirit falls on a man, he is likely to become strangely eloquent. Out of the awe and silence of the soul comes an uprushing of power-filled words that move the hearts of the hearers to tears and to action. Such eloquence as this is something else; of this we do not here speak. Of this latter we need a great deal more, but we can do with a lot fewer empty words in religious circles.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou hast anointed my head with oil; my cup runneth over. - Psalm 23:5

Life is a sore fight; but to the Christian man, in spite of all the tumult, life is a festal banquet. There stand the enemies, ringing him round with cruel eyes, waiting to be let slip upon him like eager dogs round the poor beast of the chase. But, for all that, here is spread a table in the wilderness, made ready by invisible hands; and the grim-eyed foe is held back in the leash till the servant of God has fed and been strengthened. This is our condition - always the foe, always the table. What sort of a meal should that be? The soldiers who eat and drink, and are drunken in the presence of the enemy, like the Saxons before Hastings, what will become of them? Drink the cup of gladness, as men do when their foe is at their side, looking askance over the rim, and with one hand on the sword, ready, aye! ready, against treachery and surprise. But the presence of the danger should make the feast more enjoyable, too, by the moderation it enforces and by the contrast it affords - as to sailors on shore, or soldiers in a truce. Joy may grow on the very face of danger, as a slender rose-bush flings its bright sprays and fragrant blossoms over the lip of a cataract; and that not the wild mirth of men in a pestilence, with their " Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die," but the simple-hearted gladness of those who have preserved the invaluable childhood gift of living in the present moment, because they know that tomorrow will bring God, whatever it brings, and not take away His care and love, whatever it takes away.

This, then, is the form under which the experience of the past is presented in the second portion of this Shepherd -psalm - joy in conflict, rest and food even in the strife. Upon that there is built a hope which transcends that in the previous portion of the psalm. As to this life, "Goodness and mercy shall follow us " This is more than "I will fear no evil" . That said, sorrow is not evil if God be with us. This says. Sorrow is mercy. The one is hope looking mainly at outward circumstances; the other is hope learning the spirit and meaning of them all. These two angels of God - Goodness and Mercy- shall follow and encamp around the pilgrim. The enemies whom God held back while he feasted may pursue, but will not overtake him. They will be distanced sooner or later; but the white wings of these messengers of the covenant shall never be far away from the journeying child, and the air shall often be filled with the music of their comings, and their celestial weapons shall glance around him in all the fight, and their soft arms shall bear him up over all the rough ways, and up higher at last to the throne.