Saturday Morning: Watchers, Prophets, and Pasta for Breakfast.

It’s a Saturday morning, 26 minutes past 10.

I’ve already done a few things upside down. Like having pasta and vegetables and peanut butter for breakfast. No cheese in the fridge, but the olive oil and chili tomato sauce carried their weight. I’m full now. Full of food, full of thoughts, full of this ache to burn 400 calories so I can come down to a round 600 for the day. If I don’t, I’ll still be okay. But I will. I’ll walk it off.

That’s the surface of the morning. But beneath it?

Dreams. Strange, persistent dreams.

Not nightmares exactly, just revelations. Scenes behind curtains. The dark things people do when they think no one sees. But I see. Or maybe it’s not even me who sees. Maybe I’m just in the company of the Watchers. And maybe I’m not just a prophet anymore. Maybe I’ve become one of them. A Watcher.

But what is a Watcher?

Are they prophets in a higher office, or something altogether different? I wonder about that. I welcome correction. I welcome learning. I welcome truth.

But one thing I know: God provides for His prophets, His watchers, His servants. He really does. Not always money, though I sometimes wish Watchers could just blink and conjure up rent, but something better. Provision that carries eternal weight.

Then there's this town.

I don’t love it. That’s the honest truth. Some days I hate it. Not because it's especially worse than anywhere else, but because, I think, when you grow in light, you become keen-eyed for darkness. And suddenly it’s everywhere. The dullness. The shadows behind smiles. The manipulation dressed up as morality. You start to smell it before you even see it. And it stinks.

But then again, God once said, even the darkness is light to Him.

That line is beautiful and terrifying.

So if I’m walking closer with Him, should I not also be able to see the light inside the dark? Not just notice evil, but discern goodness hiding beneath rubble? Is this what knowing Him more really looks like?

Yesterday, I cried out,

God, I want to know You more. I want to know You more.

And today? Today, I woke up with these heavy, strange thoughts.

Is this what intimacy with the Almighty feels like?

Like clarity so sharp, it cuts?

Like light so strong, it scorches?

Maybe.

So for now, I’ll walk my two-hour walk. I’ll iron my clothes. I’ll maybe sip on a smoothie. No milk, but I’ll manage. I’ll read something that stirs my spirit, and I’ll keep asking questions. Keep watching.

After all, that’s what Watchers do.

“Indeed, the darkness shall not hide from You,

But the night shines as the day;

The darkness and the light are both alike to You.”

— Psalm 139:12 (NKJV)