There are days when I sit down with my budget and feel the weight of stewardship like a heavy mantle on my shoulders. As someone who teaches personal finance, I know full well the biblical call to manage money wisely. I believe in budgets, in living within your means, in delayed gratification, and in investing with eternity in mind. But every now and then, I wrestle with this question:

Am I merely a steward, or am I also a son? And how do those two identities relate when it comes to money?

The Call to Stewardship

Scripture is crystal clear: God owns everything, and I own nothing.
Psalm 24:1 reminds us, “The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein.” That means every peso I earn, every asset I acquire, even the breath in my lungs—it all belongs to Him. I am simply a steward—a manager entrusted with His resources.

Jesus reinforces this in the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14–30), where servants are entrusted with the master’s property and held accountable for what they do with it. This parable has shaped much of my life and teaching: we are not owners; we are entrusted managers.

Because of this, I’ve worked hard to live out biblical stewardship—saving diligently, giving generously, avoiding debt, and teaching others to do the same. Stewardship brings discipline, clarity, and purpose to our finances. But stewardship alone can become transactional if we forget the bigger picture.

The Assurance of Sonship

In moments of pressure—when investments don’t perform, when expenses pile up, or when giving becomes sacrificial—I have to remind myself:

I am not just a steward. I am a son.

Romans 8:15 says, “For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, ‘Abba! Father!’”

There’s profound rest in knowing that I am a child of God, not just His employee. Sons have access. Sons have inheritance. Sons are loved, not just evaluated.

When I slip into a purely stewardship mindset, I sometimes find myself anxious and controlling. I worry if I’ve done enough, saved enough, or given enough. But the identity of a son reminds me that I don’t earn God’s favor through spreadsheets. My worth isn’t tied to how well I manage the money—it’s rooted in the finished work of Christ.

The Tension: Balancing Both Identities

So which one is it? Am I a steward or a son?

The answer is both, but with an important order.
I am a son first, and because I am a son, I steward well.

My stewardship flows out of my sonship. I manage God’s resources not to earn His approval but because I already have it. My financial obedience is not to gain His love, but because I am secure in it.

Luke 15 tells the story of the prodigal son, but it’s also the story of the older brother—the one who stayed, obeyed, and served, but missed the joy of simply being a son. That story humbles me. I don’t want to be a financial older brother—diligent but disconnected from the Father’s heart.

My Thoughts

Being a steward keeps me faithful.
Being a son keeps me secure.

Yes, we are called to be wise, diligent, and accountable with money. But let’s never forget:

We are not just God’s managers—we are His children.

So today, I budget with discipline and give with generosity. But I do so with joy, not anxiety. Because before I am a steward of the Kingdom—I am a son of the King.