If walls could talk, mine might say, “Scrub me!” Perhaps, they might shout out to my three constantly climbing, bare-footed children, “Stop putting your dirty feet on me!”

For some strange reason, I found myself thinking about what the Apostle Peter’s house might share if walls could talk. Imagine the things they had witnessed: miracles, tears, terrifying fear, the grief of a widow. What a testimony those walls might share!

If Walls Could Talk

If walls could talk,
I’d have much to say. 
Standing all these years,
Silent, staring day by day. 

Peter brought him here,
As Amma’s fever grew.
I saw him take her hand, 
Healing through and through.

I listen to their lively meals,
Fishers of a different catch. 
Talk moved away from nets
To living souls to fetch.

I heard His contagious cheer,
Saw hidden habits of prayer.
For he woke and rose early
Before the crowds did stare.

I wanted to join their weeping
At the notorious news. 
His people slaughtered Him,
Dethroned the King of the Jews.

The door shook with delight
At word of the reversal.
He’d arisen as He’d said,
Told the delighted dispersal.

Peter would come to visit,
With wife and family in tow.
Around the table they’d share
How the Church did grow.

The enemy-turned-emissary,
Paul, came for an unlikely stay.
He and Peter did break bread:
Never thought I’d see that day.

I watched Peter’s widow
Sit in ashes as bereaved.
I watched her fight to trust,
In Christ she still believed.

I hope to stand here until
His shadow darkens my door.
Then I will join the singing
With joy as never before.

If God can make rocks cry out, then maybe, just maybe, walls might testify to Him one day! Even if they could, we ought not need them to do so! For He will train His children to sing His praises!