But God Is the Strength of My Heart

The passage begins with a confession.

Asaph says his soul was grieved and he was embittered in his heart.

That is not flattering language. He is not presenting himself as calm, noble and spiritually impressive. He is telling the truth about what had happened inside him.

This is one of the gifts of the Psalms.

They do not give us plastic faith. They give us honest faith. The psalmists bring grief, confusion, anger, fear, regret, longing and worship before God. They do not treat the Lord as too fragile for honesty.

Asaph had been looking at the world wrongly. Earlier in the psalm, he had nearly slipped because he envied the arrogant. He saw their comfort and compared it with his own struggle. His heart became sour.

That can happen to us too.

Comparison can poison gratitude. Resentment can distort vision. Pain can narrow our view until we only see what is missing. Weariness can make God seem distant even when He has not moved.

Asaph does not excuse his bitterness. He brings it into the light.

That is wise.

The Lord already knows what is in us. Confession is not informing God of something hidden from Him. It is agreeing with Him about what He sees. It is stepping out of self-deception and returning to truth.

A bitter heart is not healed by pretending.

It is healed by coming near to God.

Asaph says he was senseless and ignorant. He compares himself to a brute beast before God.

That sounds severe but it is spiritually honest. He realises that his perspective had become dull. He had judged reality by appearances. He had forgotten the end of the story. He had allowed envy to cloud worship.

Yet the next words are astonishing.

"Nevertheless, I am continually with you."

That word nevertheless carries mercy.

Asaph had been foolish. Nevertheless, God had not abandoned him. Asaph had been bitter. Nevertheless, God had held him. Asaph had been confused. Nevertheless, he was still with the Lord.

This is deeply comforting.

God's faithfulness is not as fragile as our moods.

He does not drop His children every time their thoughts become tangled. He does not walk away because they are slow to understand. He does not despise them when weakness exposes itself.

This does not make bitterness harmless. It does not make unbelief small. But it reminds us that God's grip is stronger than ours.

Asaph says, "You have held my right hand."

That is the picture of grace.

A child may stumble yet the father holds on. A weary believer may not understand yet the Lord sustains. A troubled heart may shake yet God does not let go.

The Christian can say this even more clearly because of Christ.

Our hope is not that we have held God perfectly. Our hope is that Christ has taken hold of us.

Asaph says God will guide him with His counsel.

This is not a promise of instant clarity about every detail. It is better than that. It is the assurance that God Himself guides His people.

We often want the map.

God gives Himself.

His counsel comes through His Word, by His Spirit, through wise correction, through providence and through the ordinary means of grace. He leads us back from envy to worship. He lifts our eyes from appearances to eternity. He teaches us to measure life by His truth rather than by what seems successful for a moment.

That kind of guidance is not always comfortable.

Sometimes God's counsel corrects us. Sometimes it exposes wrong desires. Sometimes it calls us to repent of bitterness. Sometimes it steadies us when we would rather complain.

But His counsel is always good.

The world gives counsel too. It tells us to chase status, comfort, control, revenge and applause. It tells us that visible success is the measure of a life.

Psalm 73 says otherwise.

The wicked may appear strong for a time. The faithful may feel weak for a time. But God sees the end from the beginning. His counsel teaches us to live by what lasts.

To be guided by God is a mercy.

Even when He corrects us, He is leading us home.

The heart of the passage is this confession:

"My flesh and my heart fails, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."

Flesh fails. Bodies weaken. Energy fades. Eyes dim. The body reminds us that we are dust.

The heart fails too. Courage can thin. Emotions can sag. Confidence can falter. Old griefs can return. Fears can rise without invitation. A person can know many true things and still feel weak.

Scripture does not mock this.

It names it.

But then comes the anchor.

"But God."

God is the strength of my heart.

Not merely the giver of strength. He Himself is the strength. When my inner life feels weak, He remains steady. When my emotional supply runs low, He remains sufficient. When I cannot hold everything together, He holds me.

And God is my portion forever.

A portion is an inheritance, a share, a lasting possession. Asaph is saying that God Himself is his treasure. Not merely God's gifts. Not merely better circumstances. Not merely restored comfort. God Himself.

This is deep faith.

If God is our portion, then we are not finally poor even when much is stripped away.

If God is our portion, then we are not finally abandoned even when others leave.

If God is our portion, then we are not finally ruined even when the body weakens.

God is not a temporary support.

He is our forever portion.

Asaph ends by saying it is good for him to come close to God.

That is where the psalm has been leading.

At the beginning, he was looking outward in envy. By the end, he is drawing near in worship. The circumstances may not all have changed but his sight has been corrected.

Nearness to God is not a small consolation prize.

It is our good.

This cuts against the way we often think. We may say life would be good if this problem ended, if we had more strength, if that person changed, if things became easier. Some of those things may indeed be good gifts.

But the deepest good is God Himself.

To come near to Him is better than having all the answers. It is better than winning every earthly comparison. It is better than appearing strong. It is better than temporary ease without Him.

In Christ, this nearness has been opened to us by grace. We come near not because we have earned access but because Jesus has brought us to God through His blood.

So the weary believer can come.

The bruised believer can come.

The ageing believer can come.

The confused believer can come.

The believer with failing flesh and a faltering heart can come.

God is still the strength of the heart.

God is still the portion forever.