What are you waiting for? Perhaps you are in a queue outside the supermarket, with a trolley, two metres apart from the persons in front and behind, waiting for the slowly shuffling line to bring you to the door. Perhaps you are waiting for a book from Amazon to bedelivered; or seeds you planted to germinate; or like us, for another grandchild to be born. (Two in fact!)
We are all waiting for lockdown to be eased, for the coronavirus to cease its violent assault on our society, for vaccine to be developed. Some are eagerly awaiting re-entry into normal life; others are waiting with trepidation.
David the Psalmist wrote in Psalm 130v5 : “ I wait for the Lord more than watchmen wait for the morning.”
How do watchmen wait for the morning? Habakkuk the prophet imagined it: “I will stand at my watch and station myself upon the ramparts; I will look to see what he will say to me.” (2v4)
The watch from 3 am. until dawn is the hardest. The soldier wakes and gropes in the dark for his boots and cloak. Everyone else is asleep and snoring around him. He goes quietly up the stone stairs to the ramparts and briefly acknowledges the man he is relieving, and takes up his station. He can’t see much because it is so dark, the darkest hour. The thought flits across his mind, “Isn’t it a bit pointless trying to “watch” in the dark? It’s black! Why not just stay in bed?”
But he is under orders; he must stand guard!
There are some things he can see: vague shapes and silhouettes of trees. On a clear night he can see the skies full of stars, and if the moon is full, he can see a lot more, not as clear as day, but clear enough to discern movement, such as animals scurrying about, owls flying, or even the stealthy movement of marauders lying in wait. But if it’s a cloudy night, what then? Or foggy? If he cant see a hand in front of his face, is it a waste of time? But he has learned, you don’t only watch with your eyes, you have to train your senses. He stands very still and listens intently, slows down his breathing, every sinew alert, tense. He waits.
Every rustle of leaves, a twig snapping could be suspicious. Every flutter of a bird could indicate it was disturbed… by what?
Its dark; its cold; it may be wet. Its lonely. He is tired. He yawns thinking wistfully of his warm bed. He begins to drift, to loose concentration, his eyelids lower…No! He must not sleep! Disaster could come while his eyes are closed and his hearing dulled. He shakes himself, re-aligns his position, changes his stance slightly. Looks toward the east: will morning never come? Is there a glimmer of light on the horizon?
He waits. He watches. It will be morning soon.
Daylight brings relief that night is ended. Are we simply waiting for the coronavirus pandemic to come to an end? For these “unprecedented” days to finish and allow us to get back to normal, whatever “normal” will look like? Many Christians are expectant for more, waiting with eager longing for a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit, for the Good News of the Gospel to be proclaimed with power and vigour, for myriads to lift up their eyes, once blind, now opened, and shout, “Now I see!” Salvation to be poured out accompanied by signs and wonders, the manifest works of God when he comes in power as he did at the first Pentecost. We are waiting for such a sweeping move of God that can only be described as ‘unprecedented”!
Sometimes we get fed up with waiting and walk away. But waiting for the empowering presence of God is waiting for a certainty.
Morning always comes, he has decreed it. “His going forth is as sure as the dawn”.
The Wendy House 