Today's readings run an audit on everything people lean on instead of God: shepherds who fleece the flock, princes whose plans die with them, an economy so glittering the whole world mourns when it falls.

It reads like a year-end portfolio review for the soul. Come willing to ask an uncomfortable question and to hear a kind answer: where, exactly, is your weight resting, and could it rest somewhere that lasts?

Zechariah's shepherds sold out the flock. Babylon's merchants monetized everything they could reach. The princes of Psalm 146 meant well, perhaps, and then their breath left and their plans went with them. Scripture is not being cynical today; it is being accurate about load-bearing capacity. Everything created eventually buckles under the weight of being trusted like a god.

The psalm names the alternative with plain relief: blessed is the one whose help is the God of Jacob, Maker of heaven and earth, who remains faithful forever. He feeds, frees, lifts, protects, and reigns through every generation. Move your weight there. It is the one place the floor never gives.