More than watchmen for the morning

The night watchman on an ancient city wall had the loneliest shift there was — hours of darkness, straining for the first grey line on the horizon. But his waiting had one great comfort: morning always came. He was not waiting to find out if there would be a dawn, only for it to arrive.

That is the exact shape of the psalmist’s hope, and he says it twice because it bears repeating: my soul waits for the Lord more than they that watch for the morning. More intently — but with the same certainty. Waiting on God is watchman’s waiting: the outcome is not in question, only the hour.

And the anchor is specific: in his word do I hope. Not in feelings, which keep watch badly, but in what God has said — as fixed as the sunrise schedule. Whatever you are waiting on in this season, wait like the man on the wall: certain of the dawn, eyes on the east, hope tied to the word.