If My Walls Could Speak

If my walls could speak, oh the tales they’d tell!

They’d tell of open doors and the people that walk through them,

Of midnight interruptions and how they sanctify!

Of furrowed brows and angry voices

Of whispered hopes and sparkling eyes;

Of painful questions and streams of tears.

They’d tell story upon story of women fighting to look more Christ;

Women torn in body and bruised in soul;

Women wanting answers and holding onto shreds of hope

Women feeding on ashes when they could have so much more;

Women walking in obedience though it has cost them something dear;

Women who can hardly contain their excitement in seeing God changing them.

If my walls spoke after the doors closed,

They’d tell of the woman living there

How she’s learning to love and how that tears her apart inside

How she’s learning to grow up even in the silly things that everyone knows

How she’s learning to fight for Christlikeness no matter what

How she fails, but how she gets up again.

If my walls could speak, people would not doubt God any longer.


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