The God Who Meets Us at the Wall

The God of the universe is moved by a weeping king facing a wall.

This is one of those stories that has encouraged me over the years, mostly because it is so emotive.

It's a simple story of King Hezekiah in Isaiah 38 that’s just raw—raw humanity and vulnerability. Hezekiah, king of Judah, a man who’d seen God do incredible things—miracles, deliverance, all of it—is told by the prophet Isaiah:

"Set your house in order, for you shall die; you shall not recover."

Just like that. It’s as abrupt as when Elijah turned up and said, “No more rain until I say so!”

Imagine it. One moment, you’re on the throne, leading a nation, making plans, carrying dreams—and the next, you’re staring death in the face. There’s no escaping it, no sidestepping it, and the weight of mortality drops like a stone. And what does Hezekiah do?

He turns his face to the wall.

There’s something profoundly human about that image, something emotive, as I said. When words fail, when there are no strategies left, no options to explore—just you, God, and the unrelenting wall before you. Hezekiah turns his face to the bare-brick wall and prays, but it’s not some eloquent, polished prayer. No, it’s guttural, desperate.

"Remember me, O Lord. Remember how I’ve walked before you. Remember my heart." (Isaiah 38:3)

And facing the wall—his wall—he weeps bitterly.

The Wall Moment

That’s the wall moment. The wall that confronts you with the reality that life doesn’t always bend to your will. The brutal wall of a doctor’s diagnosis. The crumbling wall of a failed relationship. The wall of that gnawing anxiety that you’re not enough, or that everything you’ve built could come crashing down. The wall of an uncertain future.

The question is, what on earth do you do when you’re staring at the wall?

The Wall as a Mirror

The walls we face have a way of showing us who we are. When Hezekiah turned his face to the wall, all the distractions fell away. The throne didn’t matter. The accolades, the victories, the responsibilities, the pomp and glory—they faded into the background. The wall became like a mirror, reflecting back the truth about his frailty, his dependence, his utter need for God. It brings sober self-assessment.

Isn’t that what those 'walls' do to us? They strip us bare. They force us to confront the illusion that we’re in control. You see, we’re often so busy building our lives—our careers, our families, our dreams—that we forget how precarious it all is. And then, out of nowhere, comes the wall, and suddenly, the scaffolding of our self-sufficiency collapses.

The wall isn’t the enemy, though; it’s an invitation. Hezekiah’s wall invited him to return to the heart of the matter—his relationship with God. To cry out. To weep. To let go of his pride, his plans, his persona, and to say, “My Lord, I need you.”

The God Who Meets Us at the Wall

What’s fascinating and encouraging about Hezekiah’s story is that God hears his prayer—not just hears it, but responds. Isaiah hasn’t even left the long corridors of the palace when God stops him and says:

"Go back to Hezekiah. Tell him I’ve heard his prayer. I’ve seen his tears. I will add fifteen years to his life." (Isaiah 38:5) I suggest we pause there for a second or two and say a silent “wow!” to Isaiah’s openness and sensitivity to hearing God...

The God of the universe is moved by a weeping king facing a wall. The God who holds the stars in place is not indifferent to our cries. He hears, sees, and responds.

And that’s the thread that runs all the way through Scripture. Think about Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, the night before His crucifixion. He’s facing His own wall—a wall that looms with the weight of the cross, the wrath of God, the sin of the world. And what does He do? He falls to the ground and prays:

"Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will." (Matthew 26:39)

Even Jesus faced the wall. Even Jesus wept. And in His surrender, in His trust, God’s redemptive plan unfolded. So when you face your wall or sit with someone else you are encouraging who is facing this, know that you’re not alone. The God who met Hezekiah in his tears, who strengthened Jesus in the garden, is the same God who stands with you. He’s the God who specialises in turning our walls into doorways - doorways into the intervention and breakthroughs of God

What Wall Are You Facing?

So, let me ask you: what’s the ‘wall’ in your life right now?

Is it the wall of fear? The wall of shame? The wall of uncertainty about what’s next? About receiving God’s forgiveness? Maybe it’s the wall of unanswered prayer—the kind that makes you wonder if God is even listening.

Whatever it is, don’t turn away from it. Don’t run—that won't solve anything. Don’t numb yourself with distractions, gadgets, Netflix, social media, or drown it in busyness. Turn your face to the wall, just like Hezekiah. Let it become the place where you meet God. The place where you pray raw, unpolished prayers. The place where you bring your tears, your questions, your doubts.

If there’s a New Testament passage that echoes this, that speaks into your predicament, it’s probably Philippians 4:6–7:

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."

Paul isn't saying, “Pretend the wall isn’t there.” He doesn’t say, “Figure it out on your own.” Or, “Say positive affirmations over yourself—you are enough.” He says, “Pray.” Pour it out. Lay it all down. And what happens? The peace of God shows up—not because the wall disappears, but because God meets you there. God is present, working, redeeming.

The wall you face at some point or another isn’t the end of the story. It’s the place where God wants to write something new. So turn your face to the wall, pray, weep, and then watch what God does next.