Watching porpoise gambol under the bow of a cargo ship on a dark, starlit tropical night is one of the pleasures of going to sea. At 3 A.M., the world is at peace; the only sounds are the barely audible thump of the diesel and the swish of the bow wave; the wave makes the music to which the porpoise dance. The great creatures are not dancing for fun; they are feeding on the plankton disturbed by the ship’s passage. Their bodies are translucent with the phosphorus broken up by the bow wave. The weaving of several silver shapes in, out and through the water keeps the seaman mesmerized as he passes a lonely vigil on the forecastle of a quiet ship.
There is nothing else to see. The nearest land may be 1,000 miles away. The nearest ship unseen below the horizon. Since there is nothing to look for, why not watch the circus in the dark waters directly below?
The watchman
The watchman is a familiar figure to Bible readers. There is Habakkuk, standing on his watchtower, looking afar and dreading the future as he awaits advice from above; he seeks hope out of despair. Ezekiel was appointed a watchman to Israel, a trumpeter with a warning of doom. Isaiah foretold of the movement of armies as Medes and Elamites in the east would one day commence hostilities against Babylon. But in the desert to the south, all was quiet. “Watchman what of the night?” The watchman from the silent wilderness responded to Isaiah, “the morning cometh and also the night.” There appeared to be nothing to raise an alarm about in Mount Seir, just the normal monotony of night and day.
Lessons for us
What can we learn from these watchmen?
Somewhere beyond his horizon, Habakkuk waited for the Babylonians to respond, unwittingly, to God’s command. He despaired at the evil of the nations round about but was blind to the state of his own people.
We receive constant news of the sick world we live in, near at hand and far away. We stand on our watchtower and note the war games and the political upheavals with mixed hope and dismay. Are they like the porpoise gamboling under the bow? Are they drawing our attention away from what we should be watching?
Ezekiel was given little option. “I have set thee a watchman unto the House of Israel…Thou shalt speak…and warn.”
One of the last commands Jesus gave to his disciples could be framed in the same words. That message has come down to us. Can we be trusted to stay awake in the dark hours before the dawn, ready to give due warning when a light finally clears the horizon? Can we take heed when our patience is wearing thin and one night follows another until we weary of sunrises and sunsets? The mate pores over his charts, the quartermaster keeps his eyes on the compass while the watchman is mesmerized by porpoises under the bow!
What arrests our attention?
“A grievous vision is declared unto me…Go, set a watchman, let him declare what he seeth” (Isa. 21:6).
At one point, Isaiah depended on appointed watchmen who were looking to the desert. One watchman reported a messenger who brought news of the fall of Babylon. To the east, there was calamity; to the south, all was quiet.
The watchman should alert our minds too. The repetition in “Babylon is fallen, is fallen” demands a second, future fulfillment. Where shall we seek Babylon? Should we look to the east, or the south or even to the north? Perhaps we shall succeed by constant watching all round the horizon.
Later in Isaiah, the watchmen were set in Jerusalem. Again we are alerted to watch the future. We immediately recognize Paul’s use of Isa. 52:7 in Rom. 10:15, “How beautiful are the feet of him that bringeth good tidings.” The messengers who bring the gospel are welcomed by the watchman, “Thy watchmen shall lift up the voice; with the voice together shall they sing” (Isa. 52:8).
We are these watchmen; we are the ones who have responded to the gospel message, receiving it with joy.
But what of Isa. 56:10-12? “His watchmen are blind: they are all ignorant…Come ye, say they…to morrow shall be as this day, and much more abundant.” Does this suggest a time when these same watchmen will see nothing, their senses dulled by apathy, dissipation and fatigue of body or spirit? Does this indicate a time reminiscent of the wedding feast of Matt. 22 or of the five foolish virgins who slumbered and slept?
Our personal duty
There is no one watchman in the teaching of Jesus. We do not have any one individual covering for us while we get on with our daily routines.
“Watch therefore, for ye know not at what hour your Lord will come.” Jesus’ watchman is a faithful and wise servant who is more concerned about the household than the horizon. Such a policy ensures that whenever his Lord returns, his house shall be in good order, the servants well cared for and the house secured against an intruder. Can we claim to be such a servant? We can only answer for ourselves.
A regular call to duty
The stroke of a bell brings the lookout from his trance. Every half hour the bell is struck on the bridge and the response should be immediate. “Watchman, what of the night?” The bridge wants to know. A response means that all is well — there is nothing in sight, the lights are burning brightly and the ship is on course.
Once a week, we are given the opportunity to drag our minds away from our temporal plans and to take our thoughts off material things. We are urged to examine ourselves in the light of the fact that Jesus died to give mankind a new lease on life, a life that is to be free from sin’s burden and from anxiety about the future. That which is beyond the visible horizon can be safely left to the Father in heaven while we concentrate on the present.
Jesus died to save us from our sins. Let obedience be our first priority. Let us be faithful watchmen — at home, in the ecclesia and on the bow of the ship as we sail through the waters of the Gentile night looking for the sun of righteousness to arise with healing in his wings.
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One