Psalm 37:1-2 – Today’s Verse for March 3, 2025 Monday

“Fret not thyself because of evildoers, neither be thou envious against the workers of iniquity. For they shall soon be cut down like the grass, and wither as the green herb.“
— Psalm 37:1-2 KJV

Reflection on Today's Verse

It’s easy to get frustrated when we see bad people getting ahead. They lie, cheat, and take advantage of others, yet they seem to prosper. It feels unfair. But God tells us not to worry about them. Their success won’t last.

Think about grass in the summer. One moment it’s green, the next it’s dry and fading. That’s how short-lived the wicked are. They may have power and wealth today, but one day, they’ll answer to God.

God wants us to trust Him, not envy them. Their reward is temporary, but ours is eternal. Stay focused on what’s right. Keep your heart clean. The wicked may rise fast, but they will fall even faster. Let God handle them.

Trust Him, do good, and keep your peace.

Personal Prayer

Father, sometimes I look around and feel discouraged. I see people doing wrong, yet they seem to thrive. It’s hard not to question why. But You remind me that their time is short. Their success is like grass that withers, here today and gone tomorrow.

Help me not to dwell on them. Guard my heart from envy, anger, and doubt. Teach me to trust You completely. You see everything. You know every heart. Nothing escapes Your justice.

Give me peace when I feel frustrated. Strengthen me to walk in Your ways, even when it seems like the world rewards evil. Let me focus on what is good, right, and eternal.

I surrender my worries to You. I choose faith over fear, trust over frustration, and obedience over comparison. You are my rock, my refuge, and my hope.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Author

Alona
Alona Smith writes like she sketches—quick strokes, bold colors, no eraser. She ran a small-town art studio before VerseForTheDay invited her to swap charcoal for chapters, yet paint still flecks her keyboard. Dawn finds her barefoot on the porch, swirling watercolors across a travel Bible, letting sunrise seep into the margins. Neighbors wave as she bikes to the farmers’ market, basket rattling with sunflowers and Psalms scribbled on kraft-paper price tags.Alona trusts that Scripture behaves like clay: press your palms in, and a vessel appears where empty air once lived. Afternoon workshops with foster teens prove the point; they mold hope into coffee mugs, then watch steam carry it forward.Diplomas? Only framed sketches of hands lifted in worship. Awards? A dog-eared gratitude list taped to her fridge. Open her reflections when cynicism scratches—she’ll slide a brush into your grip and show you light hiding in the smear of everyday color.