Who Shall Climb the Mountain of the Lord

“Who shall climb the mountain of the Lord?

Who shall stand in his holy place?

The man with clean hands and pure heart,

who desires not worthless things.”

— Psalm 24:3–4, Grail Translation

The psalm opens with a vision that pierces through the veil of complacency. It is not a casual ascent but a purification. To stand in the holy place is to allow every falsehood to be consumed by the fire of God’s presence. The heart must be opened not partially but entirely, emptied of pride and secret attachments.

When one prays, “Lord, let me open my heart wide to receive Your light and healing mercy,” the plea becomes the very gate through which the King of Glory enters. Yet to pray such words is to invite exposure, to let the light search the inner depths where remnants of self-love and hidden passions still hide. The demons prowl precisely there, in the regions where fear and negligence linger. To expose these to God is not shame but worship.

“To you, Lord, I call, my rock, hear me!

If you remain silent, I shall go down to the pit.

Hear the voice of my pleading

as I call for help,

as I lift up my hands in prayer

to your holy place.”

— Psalm 28:1–2

Silence before God is never empty. Even when His response is hidden, the act of crying out becomes participation in the divine dialogue. The soul clings to Him as to its rock, refusing to let the darkness have the final word. In this struggle, prayer becomes the ascent of the ladder, rung by rung, each one formed by humility, repentance, and trust.

“Lift up your heads, O gates;

higher still, O ancient doors,

that the King of Glory may come in.”

— Psalm 24:7

The Fathers teach that these gates are the faculties of the soul. St. Macarius of Egypt says that the heart is a small vessel, yet within it there are dragons, and there also is God, the angels, and the life of the kingdom. When the heart is purified, it becomes a throne of God. To lift the gates is to lift the mind from the lowlands of distraction and let the Spirit take possession of every thought.

“Blessed be the Lord,

for he has heard my cry, my appeal for mercy.

The Lord is my strength and my shield;

in him my heart trusts.

I was helped, my heart rejoices,

and I praise him with my song.”

— Psalm 28:6–7

When the light begins to enter, the heart learns to rejoice not in ease but in the nearness of God’s mercy. St. Isaac the Syrian reminds us that when grace illumines the heart, one perceives the depth of one’s own darkness. This knowledge is not despair but the dawn of humility. The ascent continues, not by striving for perfection, but by allowing mercy to transfigure weakness.

“In you, O Lord, I take refuge.

Let me never be put to shame.

In your justice, set me free,

turn your ear to me,

make haste to rescue me.”

— Psalm 31:1–2

The soul learns that refuge is not found in control, nor holiness in self-mastery. The true ascent is a surrender into the arms of God. To make one’s heart His temple is to offer the whole being, body, memory, desire, and failure, as a living sacrifice. The Lord does not reject the broken heart; He builds His sanctuary within it.

“Into your hands I commend my spirit.

It is you who will redeem me, Lord.”

— Psalm 31:6

In this surrender, all fear dissolves. To commend one’s spirit is to release every calculation, every demand, every hidden condition of love. It is to let God write His name within the heart, to let His mercy be the only identity one seeks.

“How great is the goodness, Lord,

that you keep for those who fear you,

that you show to those who trust you

in the sight of men.”

— Psalm 31:20

As the soul climbs, the vision expands. The demons still rage, as they do in the Ladder icon, but the one who clings to Christ is never alone. Angels draw near, unseen, strengthening the weary hands and steadying the trembling heart.

Abba Poemen said, “If a man remembers his sins, God will forget them; but if he forgets his sins, God will remember them.” To remember one’s sins in gratitude is to keep the heart tender before the King of Glory who enters.

“Who is this King of Glory?

The Lord of hosts, he is the King of Glory.”

— Psalm 24:10

When He enters the heart, it is no longer a place of fear but of light. Every weakness becomes an opening through which His strength shines. The heart becomes both altar and ladder, temple and mountain, where man and God meet in stillness and in love.

Amen.