The Word Still Speaks
The Word Still Speaks
— A Spoken Word Piece
I remember when Grandma whispered verses
like lullabies into the cracks of my soul.
When the Bible wasn’t just a book—
it was breath.
Bread.
Battle cry.
Back then, the Word of God wasn’t silent.
It spoke—
in the tears wept at altars,
in the hush of midnight prayers,
in the strength it gave when life screamed unfair.
I’ve seen pages turn like seasons—
from Genesis to Revelation,
from broken to breakthrough,
from wandering to home.
And still—
still it speaks.
See, the Word of God is not just ink on scrolls
or leather-bound theology.
It’s thunder wrapped in mercy.
It’s fire in the bones of prophets,
and peace in the palms of the weary.
It’s the "Let there be light"
that shattered darkness then—
and still shatters darkness now.
It’s the Psalms sung in pain,
the Proverbs that shaped my mind,
the Gospels that carried me
when I couldn’t carry myself.
Oh, I've clutched it like a lifeline
when the waves came too high.
Spoken it through clenched teeth
when the storm would not pass.
Because when the world is chaos,
when my faith is a flicker—
the Word stands still.
Unmoved.
Unshaken.
Alive.
Sharper than sorrow.
Stronger than silence.
Sweeter than honey from the rock.
It speaks in hospital rooms.
In prison cells.
In the back pew where you think you’ve gone too far—
it whispers,
“You are still mine.”
It’s not just ancient text.
It’s present truth.
Living Word.
Breathing hope.
So to the weary heart,
to the one holding on by a verse—
don’t let go.
Because His Word never returns void.
It plants.
It pierces.
It promises.
And it never forgets your name.
The Word of God is not just what was said.
It’s what is still speaking.
And beloved—
It’s speaking to you now.
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