Songs of the Soul: A Bigger Portion of God - A Devotional on Psalm 73

Finding a Bigger Portion of God: When Faith Feels Fragile

Psalm 73

“Truly God is good to Israel, to those who are pure in heart. But as for me, my feet had almost slipped; I had nearly lost my foothold.”

— Psalm 73:2

The Psalmist (Asaph) begins with a declaration of faith in God’s goodness, but then in the very next verse, he immediately goes on to say that he struggles to believe it. This is what he means by the phrase “my feet had almost slipped”.

There are seasons in life when the ground beneath our faith begins to tremble. We still believe, at least we think we do, but everything we see seems to contradict what we believe about God. Pain goes unhealed, the proud prosper, and prayers seem to vanish into silence. That is exactly where Asaph, the writer of Psalm 73, finds himself.

This is not the doubt of an atheist or cynic. This is the honest struggle of a believer—a worship leader, no less—who finds his theology colliding with his reality. “Surely God is good to Israel, to those who are pure in heart… but as for me, my feet had almost slipped.”

The Honesty of a Slipping Soul

Asaph begins where many of us have been: disoriented, envious, confused. He admits, “I envied the arrogant when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.” He looks around and sees people who ignore God and yet seem to live carefree, comfortable lives.

Doubt, for Asaph, doesn’t begin in his intellect—it begins in his emotions. It isn’t the problem of philosophy; it’s the problem of pain. He’s not asking, “Does God exist?” but rather, “Is God just? Is God good—to me?”

Our modern world often divides people into two camps: those who believe and those who doubt. But the Psalms remind us that both can exist in the same heart. Doubt is not the opposite of faith; it is often the context in which faith is refined.

When Asaph says his “feet had almost slipped,” he uses an image from mountain climbing. He’s still on the path, but he’s lost his footing. His vision has been distorted—spiritual vertigo. He’s looking around instead of up.

The Weariness of Hiding Doubt

For a time, Asaph keeps silent about his struggle. He tries to carry it alone: “When I tried to understand all this, it troubled me deeply.” He doesn’t want to scandalize others or admit his weakness. But the silence only deepens his sorrow.

If unconfessed sin hardens the heart; unspoken doubt suffocates it. When we try to hide our confusion from God, we only drift farther from the very One who can heal it. At last, Asaph does what all true faith must eventually do: he brings his confusion into God’s presence. “Until I entered the sanctuary of God; then I understood…”

The Turning Point: Worship as Reorientation

The sanctuary becomes the turning point of Psalm 73. Asaph’s circumstances have not changed, but his perspective has. In worship, he begins to see things from God’s vantage point rather than his own. The wicked may seem secure, but their success is fleeting. Their foundations are fragile. What looked like solid ground is actually slippery.

Worship does not give him all the answers, but it gives him something better: a renewed awareness of God. He discovers that the cure for doubt is not more information but deeper intimacy.

C. S. Lewis once wrote, “I want God, not my idea of God.” That’s what Asaph learns in the sanctuary. His idea of God—safe, predictable, rewarding goodness with ease—was too small. God shatters the idol of Asaph’s expectations so that He can give Asaph more of Himself.

The Honest Work of Doubt

Asaph’s honesty with God becomes the doorway to greater faith. His questions do not destroy belief; they purify it. He begins to realize that the real danger is not intellectual uncertainty but spiritual envy. “When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered, I was senseless and ignorant; I was a brute beast before you.” (v. 21–22)

That’s an extraordinary confession. Doubt had made him self-centered—so focused on what he lacked that he forgot Who he had. But then comes the breakthrough:

“Yet I am always with You; You hold me by my right hand. You guide me with Your counsel, and afterward You will take me into glory.” (vv. 23–24)

Even when Asaph doubted God, God never let go of him. The hand that felt heavy in conviction (v. 4) is now the same hand that holds him fast.

The Greater Portion

The climax of the psalm comes in verses 25–26:

“Whom have I in heaven but You?

And earth has nothing I desire besides You.

My flesh and my heart may fail,

but God is the strength of my heart

and my portion forever.”

That word portion is rich with meaning. In the ancient world, a portion referred to one’s inheritance—land, wealth, or legacy. Asaph realizes that even if he loses everything, he still possesses the greatest inheritance imaginable: God Himself.

The psalm doesn’t end with all the mysteries solved; it ends with worship. Asaph’s circumstances haven’t changed, but his heart has. He no longer measures God’s goodness by what he has; he measures it by Who he knows.

The Gospel Fulfillment

Centuries later, Jesus would experience this psalm in its deepest sense. On the cross, He cried, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?”—entering into the silence and doubt that haunt every human soul.

He was truly the innocent sufferer, the one whose feet never slipped and yet was cast down for us. In Him, God has entered our pain and proven that even when we feel abandoned, we are not alone.

Because Jesus bore the absence of God, we can now live in His presence forever. Because He was stripped of His portion, we inherit His—life everlasting.

Reflection and Application

Where are you struggling to see the goodness of God?
Bring that question into His presence instead of hiding it. Faith grows in the light of honest prayer.

What “portion” are you clinging to besides God Himself?
Sometimes doubt exposes misplaced hopes more than intellectual questions.

How can worship become the place where your perspective is renewed?
You may not find all the answers, but you can find the Answerer.

Prayer

Lord,

When my heart is grieved and my spirit grows faint,

hold me fast. When I cannot see Your goodness,

teach me to trust Your hand.

Thank You that You never let go, even when my faith falters.

Be my portion, my treasure, and my everlasting strength.

Amen.