A Verse, a Candle, and Half a Cup of Coffee
This morning didn’t start with anything profound.
Just a lukewarm cup of coffee in a mug that’s been through a few too many microwave reheats.
A candle flickering more out of routine than reverence.
And an attempt to refocus on the good word, writing out scripture trying to make it stick. Something to cling to during the day a pride checker if you will.
“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”
— Psalm 73:26
Initially I wasn’t reading the full chapter — just this one line I’d written days ago and left in my bible. But Asaph’s words before this provide a much needed attitude check in.
But something about it settled into me. Especially knowing where it comes from.
Comparison Will Rot Your Bones
Psalm 73 isn’t a soft psalm. It starts off gritty and brutally honest.
Asaph, the writer, is venting his frustrations — not with God, but with people.
Specifically, the arrogant, wealthy, and wicked who seem to have it easy.
“For I envied the arrogant when I saw the prosperity of the wicked… They have no struggles; their bodies are healthy and strong.” (vv. 3–4)
He’s honest:
He’s been watching others, comparing their lives to his own obedience — and it’s messing with him.
He even says, “Surely in vain I have kept my heart pure.”
That’s the voice of burnout, bitterness, and spiritual fatigue talking.
But Then Comes the Shift
Everything turns in verse 17:
“…until I entered the sanctuary of God.”
That’s when perspective starts to return.
Not because his circumstances change — but because his focus does.
It’s in the presence of God that the fog starts to lift.
And by the time we get to verse 26, we’ve moved from resentment to surrender:
“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”
It’s no longer about what others have.
It’s about Who he belongs to.
What Comparison Steals, God Restores
It’s easy to scroll, to look around, to wonder if faithfulness is really “worth it.”
To ask why things feel hard while others seem to coast.
But comparison doesn’t just steal joy — it steals clarity.
And the longer we dwell in it, the more warped our view of God becomes.
Asaph wasn’t healed by getting answers.
He was restored by getting near.
When Strength Fails, Grace Doesn’t
That’s what this verse is.
A whispered realignment.
A confession that strength fails. Focus fails. Even our hearts — our best intentions — fail.
But God doesn’t.
He stays.
He steadies.
He is still the portion — not just for today, but forever.
This morning wasn’t revolutionary.
But that verse on the table became a quiet lifeline —
a reminder that when everything else gets loud or unfair or shaky…
He is still enough.