We're going to build that wall high, and we're going to build it

Hear the words of Stephen Miller, spoken in the heat of political struggle: “We’re going to build that wall high, and we’re going to build it tall. We’re going to build that wall, and we’re going to build it out of love. We’re going to build it out of love for every family who wants to raise their kids in safety and peace… We’re building it out of love for America and Americans of all backgrounds.” These words, though born of modern conflict, echo the ancient tension between security and openness, between protection and welcome. They reveal the paradox that sometimes walls are raised not only out of fear, but also out of what is claimed as care.

The meaning of this declaration is layered. The wall is here not described as an act of exclusion, but as an act of love—a way to shield families, to preserve order, to guard the land where children may grow in safety. Miller’s vision, though controversial, frames the wall not as a symbol of hatred, but as a manifestation of duty. For in his reasoning, the first responsibility of a nation is to protect its own, and any boundary established is meant to ensure peace within. Thus, he seeks to recast the harshness of separation into the tenderness of guardianship.

The origin of this thought lies in the debates of the early twenty-first century, when questions of borders, migration, and sovereignty pressed heavily upon the American conscience. The wall, long a symbol of division, became in political speech a rallying cry, representing not only a policy but a vision of national identity. Miller’s words sought to soften the image of stone and steel by cloaking it in the language of love, insisting that even barriers could be born of noble intention.

History has shown this paradox before. Consider the Great Wall of China, raised not in malice but in the name of protection. For centuries, emperors built and rebuilt its stones to guard their people from raids and invasions. To those outside, it was a wall of exclusion; to those within, it was a wall of safety. It became both shield and symbol, proving that walls can embody fear or pride, but also the longing to preserve a way of life. The same paradox flows through Miller’s words: what is a wall to some may be a prison of division, yet to others it is a fortress of love.

O children of tomorrow, ponder this: love is a word easily spoken, yet its meaning is shaped by perspective. To build a wall “out of love” may seem noble to those who fear chaos, but it may seem cruel to those who long to cross in search of refuge. Thus, the wisdom here is not to accept words at face value, but to weigh them by their fruits. For true peace is not born simply of protection, but of justice; and true love must embrace not only safety but also compassion.

Reflect upon your own life. Have you not built walls of your own—boundaries to keep out pain, barriers to protect your heart? Sometimes these walls are necessary, guarding against harm. Yet sometimes they grow too tall, shutting out even those who come with kindness. The lesson is the same for nations as it is for souls: boundaries can protect, but they must be examined, lest they transform into prisons that stifle love rather than safeguard it.

The lesson is clear: when you build, ask yourself—does this wall arise from fear, or from true love? Does it protect the innocent, or does it exclude the desperate? The answer is not simple, but wisdom demands the question. In your own life, set boundaries with compassion. Protect those entrusted to you, but do not harden your heart. For the greatest structures are not built of stone, but of justice, mercy, and understanding.

So let Miller’s words be remembered as both teaching and warning: “We’re building it out of love.” Whether a wall protects or divides, whether it fosters peace or sows resentment, depends on the spirit in which it is raised. Build, then, not only with strength, but with compassion, so that your walls become not monuments of fear, but guardians of a love that is both firm and generous.