Are you sure?
This bookmark will be removed from all folders and any saved notes will be permanently removed.
Those prison walls
Those were not my prison walls I stood behind.
They were for a doubter, a dreamer—a person I no longer wished to be.
I watched them go up around me, not knowing what to do, not knowing I had a choice.
I said, “I will not let these walls defeat me,” but did nothing to knock them down.
Occasionally, I’d remove a brick for a better view of the beauty on the other side.
Wisdom sang to me; freedom whispered—Spirit, God, called my name.
I replied, “I’m coming; I just need more time;
I’m coming, if I could only figure out how.”
There were nights I tried to fake my freedom, telling myself I had everything I needed.
Then there were nights I felt defeated, when the walls looked bigger and I couldn’t hear wisdom.
So I gave up my own will.
But with it quieting down, I began to hear the still, small voice of God.
I knew the voice was strong. I knew the voice would lead me, would lift me to my freedom.
It said to me, “Wait, and love more for every hate, and fear
No ill,—since God is good, and loss is gain.” 1
At first, I didn’t understand. How could love destroy these walls?
That voice never got angry, though. It never declared, “You’re silly, you fool! Just listen to my voice.”
It simply said, “I love you, dear, and your freedom is My choice.”
Enjoy 1 free Sentinel article or audio program each month, including content from 1898 to today.
