Before I Go through the Gate

Open to me the gates of righteousness, that I may enter through them and give thanks to the Lord. – Psalm 118:19 (NRSV) 

I did not grow up in a “come forward” church. Our weekly worship did not include a routine in which people came from their seats to the front of the sanctuary for a specific liturgical purpose. We stood up and sat down at the appropriate moments, but we weren’t drawn forward—not for prayers, not for an altar call, and only on special occasions for communion. The children ran forward to the pulpit steps for the children’s sermon, but adults stayed put through the service. 

We did, however, go forward from our pews to the altar during Ash Wednesday services to receive the smudge of a cross on our foreheads. Consequently, my physical memory of going forward in worship is tied to stillness, quietness, a bowed head, a humble posture. Dust to dust.  

All of which I share to give context to the following:  

I subconsciously recoil at Psalm 118’s suggestion of bounding forward into God’s space with shouts of joy and loud thanksgivings. Such unreserved exuberance: “Open the gates! Here I come!” Such triumphant relief: “I made it! God brought me here!” Head up. Shoulders back. Smile wide. All together an unfamiliar posture for me in worship. 

I just want to tuck myself somewhere along the outside wall of the gate—away from the celebratory chaos of those entering—to lean my head back against the wall’s cool surface, let my weary feet rest in the soft grass, and whisper my thanks that these ashes of mine still have breath. I’m not quite ready to sing or dance or fling my arms as wide and free as the gates, but I’ll be grateful to those in the Palm Sunday parade who do, whose loud praises echo the sighs of my glad heart. 

Prayer
Let the gates of joy remain open for a long while, O Gracious God, so that even the weary ones and the shy souls might have a chance to enter.