Make Me a Watchman

Up our gate he climbs, onto the concrete post. He perches there without a thought to its height or what the neighbors might think. All he knows is that this is the best spot for waiting. For watching.

He does this when friends are coming over, when his daddy is taking too long to return home, and when he just wants a better view of all that is happening on our quiet street. 

My son is teaching me a thing or two about hopeful waiting and eager watching. And I think of all the others in scripture who were watchmen, too:

• The disciples, staring up into the sky after Jesus’ ascension, waiting and wondering what would happen next. (Acts 1:9-11)

• The wise men, watching the stars for a sign. (Matthew 2:1-2)

• Precious Simeon and Anna, waiting and worshiping until they finally beheld the consolation of Israel. (Luke 2:25, 36-38)

• The Psalmist: “I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope. I wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, more than watchmen wait for the morning.” (Psalm 130:5-6)

I’m particularly transfixed by the watchmen referenced by Isaiah in chapter 52. These were the guardians of the city. They kept vigil at the walls so they could warn the city of impending danger or attack. But sometimes, they also got to be the bearers of good news. 

Notice, the end of Isaiah 52 introduces the famous Suffering Servant prophecy about Jesus, but just verses prior, we’re told this:

“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news… Listen! Your watchmen lift up their voices; together they shout for joy. When the Lord returns to Zion, they will see it with their own eyes.”

Isaiah 52:7a-8

These are the ones who saw the salvation of the Lord coming. These are the ones who cried out and told everyone the glad tidings. These watchmen; these waiters; these hopers; these seekers; these listeners; these guardians; these heralders: they are the ones who are the first to see their hope actualized.

As we spend this Advent season waiting, let’s take our perch. Let’s strain our eyes and tilt our ears. I can almost hear it… a baby crying, a mother humming, a camel clomping under the weight of his gold. And I can almost see it… the parting clouds, the shining trumpet, the rider with snowy beard and flaming eyes. 

Will you watch with me, just one hour more?

Close your eyes and imagine you are standing with the disciples, staring at the sky, when two men in white suddenly appear and tell you, “This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go.” How do you feel? How do you respond?