More Than Watchmen




On Thursdays, I thought I would repost some of my favorite posts--the ones that I can take no credit for because I truly believe by the mercy of God, they were written by the Holy Spirit--if their was ever any proof that He uses broken vessels, I am it.
I am so hopeful that this writing speaks to your heart as much as it spoke to mine originally.



After some research about a watchman's duties and reading more passages of scripture concerning watchmen, I knew I wanted to place myself in the watchman's shoes and see what my thoughts were.  The following is what I wrote.



MORE THAN WATCHMEN


I prepare for the night ahead. 

The darkness here in the desert can be quite cold--

I cocoon myself in future warmth, 

layer after layer of protective covering 

anticipating the deepest, the most penetrating bone-cold winds 

sweeping across the vast spaces of my soul. 

The night will be long, 

 I've served this shift before

 and the moments, the minutes, the hours 

 pass as winter sap from the tree-- 

 I look ever so often to the eastern horizon 

 Waiting for the faintest sparkle of the tourmaline sky, 

I pace from one end of my post to the other, 

 Ever on the lookout for trouble, 

for any sign of the enemy. 

 At times my heart beats like the flap of the eagles wings 

 Once it's spotted prey-- 

 The night brings not so familiar sounds-- 

 Sounds I don't want to be familiar-- 

 The core of my being raps hard 

and I look to The eastern realm again. 

 And then the quiet, 

 The orchestral din of reverberated nothingness, 

The clashing cymbal of thought upon anxious thought-- 

 One more quick look-- 

 Can it be the fringe of amber sun spilling 

 Over the horizon onto saffron sands? 

 It has come--Hope rises once more. 

It has come--Hope rises once more. 


 I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in his word I put my hope. 
My soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning, 
more than watchmen wait for the morning. Psalm 130:5-6 



 This has always been one of my favorite scriptures. I think it so interesting how the last line is repeated. In literature repetition is used for a purpose--to make a statement, to get a point across--The writer is voicing his soul's quest in terms the people of his day can understand. 

If you were this sentry how soon do you think you would want the morning to come?

How hard would you look towards the eastern horizon?

That is how I want my soul to wait for the Lord.


© ALL ART, PHOTOGRAPHS AND TEXT PROPERTY OF ELIZABETH DIANNE UNLESS OTHERWISE NOTED, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, 2008-2017






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