The Doorway You’re Already Standing In

"...let them lead me... let them bring me to your holy mountain... to the place where you dwell." - Psalm 43:3

When you read that line, it sounds like distance at first, a holy mountain, a place where God dwells. But just before it he says, “Send me your light and your faithful care...” (Psalm 43:3). The prayer doesn’t begin with climbing upward. It begins with light sent downward. God’s movement toward us comes before ours toward Him.

It’s easy to imagine that spiritual life starts once we’ve climbed high enough, once things feel settled and clearer. But Psalm 43 begins right where he is, asking for light in the middle of it. That quiet restlessness most of us know was given words by Augustine, who said, “Our heart is restless until it rests in Thee.” It doesn’t always feel spiritual. Sometimes it feels unfinished. Still, the ache leans somewhere. As C.S. Lewis wrote, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.” That may not pull us away from this one. It may help us see it more clearly.

And that’s what we begin to see in Mark 5. Jesus doesn’t stay in a sacred place and wait. He goes “among the tombs...” (Mark 5:2). He allows interruption in the crowd. He steps into a house thick with grief and takes a child by the hand. None of those settings feel elevated. They feel heavy. And that is where He stands. Paul says we follow “as dearly loved children...” (Ephesians 5:1). Not climbing. Not earning. Just responding. Even Job, standing in loss, says, “The Lord gave... the Lord has taken away... may the name of the Lord be praised.” (Job 1:21). It doesn’t sound like explanation for his loss. It sounds like someone holding to what he knows of God.

So when Psalm 43 speaks of a “holy mountain,” it feels less like altitude, less like climbing above it all, and more like realizing He is already near. Maybe the mountain rises where His “light” and “faithful care” meet us, often in places we would otherwise call ordinary, or in circumstances we would not choose. That might be at a kitchen table this morning, in a meeting already turning in your thoughts, in a hospital room, or in a conversation waiting to be had. None of those seem lofty, but neither did the tombs.

The man who wanted to remain near Jesus was told to “Go home... and tell how much the Lord has done...” (Mark 5:19). The presence did not diminish when he left. It went with him.

Maybe we’re not as far from God as we think. Maybe we’ve been nearer to His dwelling than we realized, perhaps closer than we’ve dared to believe.

Let Him lead.

Prayer

Lord, send Your light and faithful care into the places I would not have chosen. Help me notice You are already near, and teach me to follow as one who is dearly loved. Keep my heart steady in Your presence today. Amen.