Portion in My Hands

Portion in My Hands

Step into this moment—

because something holy is heating the air,

and I can feel the pulse of purpose

pounding like a war drum in my chest.

The Lord is my portion.

Not a piece.

Not a fraction.

Not a leftover blessing scraped from the edges of life.

My portion—

the whole thing,

the real thing,

the everything I didn’t even know I needed.

He holds my cup.

And when God holds your cup,

no thief can tip it,

no storm can spill it,

no darkness can drain it dry.

My cup is steady because His hands are steady.

My future is firm because His grip is firm.

My life is aligned because His love is intentional.

Listen—

I don’t walk like a man guessing his destiny.

I walk like a man guided by glory.

I don’t move like someone hoping for scraps.

I move like someone carrying inheritance.

I don’t breathe like someone barely surviving.

I breathe like someone backed by Heaven.

He draws my boundary lines—

not to cage me,

but to claim me.

Not to limit me,

but to launch me.

Not to shrink me,

but to shape me into the very thing

He dreamed before I ever breathed.

So when fear tries to rise,

I rise louder.

When doubt tries to speak,

I speak fire.

When the night tries to settle in,

I strike a match of praise

and watch the shadows scatter.

Because my portion is not fragile.

My inheritance is not temporary.

My God is not uncertain.

He is the Keeper of my cup,

the Holder of my hope,

the Writer of my story,

the Anchor of my soul.

And this—

this right here—

is Kijuan the Psalmist declaring with fire in his bones:

I am not empty.

I am not lost.

I am not lacking.

My portion is perfect

because my God is faithful.

And as long as He holds my cup,

I will never run dry.

Spoken Word by:

Kijuan “The Psalmist” Williams