Creative Work

The Wall

Vivian Shan

It began with just one brick,
laid to block myself from him,
his eyes, his love,
because I felt the weight of shame,
heavier than the bricks
I was using to build a wall.
I couldn’t lift my guilty eyes to him.
I couldn’t tell him, couldn’t let him see the wrong I’d done.
Inch by inch and foot by foot, I worked;
and the wall rose higher and higher
between him and me.

Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. Who will separate us from the love of Christ?
Romans 8:34-35a (NRSV)

I tore and roughed my hands,
scraping skin on rock,
and tasted bitter sweat
until I couldn’t see the sky
and was too tired to keep on building.
I was broken, empty.
Turning around with my back to the wall, I wept, crying out.
That’s when I saw him, standing there,
watching me, and loving me
the whole time,
and smiling because I’d finally noticed him.
I cried with joy because I realized
he was always there on my side.


JOURNAL: Write, “Hiding my sin from God is like . . .” and “Knowing I am forgiven is like . . .” Complete the sentences. Then use what you have written to create a poem or prayer.


—from devozine (March/April 2002). Copyright © 2002 by The Upper Room®. All rights reserved.

Back To Home

To Order Devozine Magazine, call 1.800.972.0433.