The Cart or the Horse

The Cart or the Horse

“O LORD, who may abide in Your tent?
Who may dwell on Your holy hill?”
—Psalm 15:1

I am struck this morning by a paradox I find in Psalm 15.

David begins by asking who may dwell in God’s tent—who may remain in God’s presence. He then proceeds to describe a life marked by integrity, righteousness, truthfulness, faithfulness, and justice. It reads almost like a list of prerequisites for entry.

For David, this question carried real weight. He lived in a unique moment in Israel’s history. The Ark of the Covenant—the symbol of God’s dwelling among His people—had been brought to Jerusalem and placed in a tent David had prepared. The Mosaic Tabernacle still existed elsewhere, and David knew well that access to God’s holy presence had always been restricted. Under the Law, only priests could draw near, and even then, only in prescribed ways.

Yet here David asks a broader question: Who may abide with God?

What makes this so striking is that David himself could not fully meet the standard he describes. The qualities listed in Psalm 15—perfect integrity, unwavering righteousness, faultless speech—are ideals that expose rather than excuse us. David knew this. He knew his own failures. He knew that even the king after God’s own heart did not qualify on merit.

And that is where the paradox sharpens.

Psalm 15 does not describe the price of admission into God’s presence so much as the portrait of a life shaped by it. David is not placing holiness before grace, but grace before holiness. He understood that access to God had always depended on God’s mercy, not human worthiness.

The heart drawn toward God’s holiness is the heart God graciously credits with righteousness. And in God’s presence, those credited attributes begin—slowly, imperfectly—to become manifested attributes. Worship does not reward righteousness; it produces it.

David could speak confidently about who may dwell with God precisely because he knew that standing before God was always an act of grace.

That question—and its answer—has not changed. God is still holy. Access to His presence still requires purity of heart. But what David longed for, Christ has accomplished.

Because Jesus purchased our purity on the cross, our access is no longer uncertain. Paul tells us we may draw near boldly. Not because we are worthy, but because Christ is. Like David, we enter by grace—and in God’s presence, we are changed.

I know how often I hesitate to worship because of my sin. I feel unworthy to approach God, as though I must first fix myself before coming near. But isn’t that the very mistake Psalm 15 exposes?

I am unworthy. That has never been in question. What matters is that God is not interested in my earned worthiness. The blood of His Son makes me worthy. And it is only in His presence that my life is reshaped to look more like Christ.

“O LORD, who may abide in Your tent?
Who may dwell on Your holy hill?”

We can.

A Closing Prayer

O Lord,
You know how quickly I measure myself and hesitate to come near.
Remind me that I enter Your presence not by my faithfulness, but by Yours.
Draw me close again—not because I am clean, but because You cleanse.
And in Your presence, shape my life into what Your grace has already declared me to be.
Amen.