Jekalyn Carr - My Portion Lyrics
Lyrics
You never knew
You would fail
You never knew
You'd go through the things you've been through
You never knew
That you would fall
But I heard His voice say
I heard His voice say
Years of pain, it is not your portion
Failure, it is not your portion
Sickness, it is not your portion
Poverty, it is not your portion
I have to embrace the promise
You never knew
You'd be broken
You never knew
You'd cry the tears that you've cried
You never knew
You'd lose the things you've lost
But I heard His voice say
I have good news
I have good news
(Good news)
That's your portion
(That's your portion)
Good health
(Good health)
That's your portion
(That's your portion)
The abundance
(The abundance)
That's your portion
(That's your portion)
Increase
(Increase)
That's your portion
(That's your portion)
I have to embrace the promise
(I have to embrace the promise)
Somebody needs to remind yourself
(I have to embrace the promise)
I have to embrace the promise
(I have to embrace the promise)
Oh I have to embrace the promise
(I have to embrace the promise)
Oh, good news
(Good news)
That's your portion
(That's your portion)
Good health
(Good health)
That's your portion
(That's your portion)
Hey, the abundance
(The abundance
That's your portion)
Increase
(Increase)
That's your portion
(That's your portion)
I have to embrace the promise
(I have to embrace the promise)
You got to tell yourself
(I have to embrace the promise)
It's okay to live in the promises
(I have to embrace the promise)
The promises of God
(I have to embrace the promise)
I have to embrace the promise
(I have to embrace the promise)
The promises of God
(I have to embrace the promise)
Are still yes and amen
(I have to embrace the promise)
You shall conquer your mountain
(I have to embrace the promise)
Hey, that's your portion
(That's your portion)
Oh, God sent me as a messenger to tell somebody today
(That's your portion)
I want to release this over you today, that's your portion
(That's your portion)
Oh, grace and mercy
(That's your portion)
Yeah, grace and mercy
(That's your portion)
Oh, grace and mercy
(That's your portion)
Restoration
(That's your portion)
You've got know that He only heals
(That's your portion)
Open doors are your portion
(That's your portion)
Favor is your portion
(That's your portion)
Eh, that's your portion
(That's your portion)
Oh, that's your portion
(That's your portion)
Yeah, that's your portion
(That's your portion)
I have to embrace the promise
Oh, I do, I do
And the promise is, good news
(Good news)
I wake up to good news
All throughout the day, good news
Even when I lay my head down at night
I declare good news
(Good news)
And I'm so glad the promise doesn't wear off
Everyday, I believe God
That's my portion
(That's your portion)
Video
My Portion by Jekalyn Carr (Music)
Meaning & Inspiration
Jekalyn Carr’s "My Portion" struggles under the weight of its own repetition. From an editorial standpoint, the song suffers from a surplus of chanting. By the time we hit the third or fourth cycle of "that’s your portion," the impact has diluted. There is a point where repetition transitions from an anchor to a barricade, preventing the listener from moving into the actual meat of the claim.
However, the Power Line—the only sentence that matters—is hidden in the final third: "I’m so glad the promise doesn’t wear off."
It works because it pivots from the frantic, high-energy declaration of "increase" and "abundance" to a quiet, existential admission. It acknowledges that the human experience is prone to fading. We feel high on a Sunday morning and flat by Tuesday. We doubt, we weary, we forget. To admit that the promise needs to be something that doesn’t wear off is an honest confession of how fickle our own hold on faith actually is.
Carr is playing with the biblical concept of an inheritance. In Numbers 18:20, the Lord tells Aaron, "You shall have no inheritance in their land... I am your portion and your inheritance." That’s a heavy, singular focus. It’s not about physical increase or favorable circumstances; it’s about the person of God being the only thing that actually satisfies.
When Carr sings, "Years of pain, it is not your portion," she is attempting to reclaim the narrative of suffering. It’s a bold, almost jarring assertion. Does it ignore the reality of human grief? Perhaps. But there is a specific, bracing tension in deciding that trauma doesn't get the final say on one's identity.
Yet, I find myself hung up on the act of "embracing the promise." It implies that the promise is a cold object waiting on a table, and we are the ones who must reach out and grip it. Is it possible that we are so busy trying to claim "good news" that we miss the fact that the promise—the actual Person of God—might be the one holding onto us instead?
We spend so much energy trying to convince ourselves of our portion. We chant it. We sing it until we’re hoarse. But if the promise is indeed something that doesn't wear off, maybe the work isn't in our shouting, but in the silence that follows when the music stops and the "portion" feels remarkably thin. That’s where the real faith happens, not in the chorus, but in the quiet, un-sung reality that follows the track.