The Watchman on the Wall That Didn't Give the Warning

 The Watchman on the Wall That Didn't Give the Warning – A Story for Today

In a small town nestled between rolling hills and winding roads, stood a modest church with a tall steeple and a bell that had not rung in years. On top of the steeple was a narrow platform—a lookout post—and the one who stood upon it was known by everyone simply as the Watchman.

The Watchman wasn’t a soldier or a guard in the traditional sense. He was a quiet man, humble and steady, who had accepted a spiritual responsibility. He believed, deeply, that he was called to "watch and warn"—to be alert for the signs of trouble and to sound the alarm for the people of the town when danger approached.

The townspeople respected him. They’d seen him pacing the wall, praying with his Bible in hand, eyes scanning the horizon. Yet, over the years, something changed.

Trouble didn’t come in the form it used to. There were no armies marching in, no sudden floods, no fires or famines. Instead, subtle changes crept in.

Church attendance dwindled—not because people stopped believing altogether, but because they were "busy." Children began learning values more from screens than from Scripture. Marriage vows were replaced by temporary arrangements. Right and wrong became blurred by popular opinion. Faith turned into tradition, and the Word of God sat closed on shelves, gathering dust.

The Watchman noticed. He saw it coming like storm clouds gathering slowly—doubt, compromise, apathy, pride. He saw the shift from gospel truth to feel-good spirituality. But he said nothing.

He told himself:

• “They won’t listen anyway.”

• “Who am I to tell people how to live?”

• “I’ll just pray quietly and hope God sends someone stronger, someone better with words.”

So he kept watching. He kept silent.

One night, he had a dream. In it, the town was overrun with destruction—not physical, but spiritual. People stumbled through the streets, clutching broken pieces of truth, weeping for answers that had once been right at their fingertips. A voice thundered from heaven:

“Son of man, I have made you a watchman... If you see the sword coming and do not blow the trumpet to warn the people... I will hold you accountable for their blood.” (Ezekiel 33:6, paraphrased)

He awoke trembling. Tears ran down his face as he realized he had failed. Not by doing evil, but by doing nothing.

And so it is today.

We live in a world on the edge—not always visibly burning, but spiritually drifting. The signs are clear. The truth is urgent. And too many of God’s people, called to be watchmen, stand silent.

The Watchman’s story is a call—not to guilt, but to action. To speak truth in love. To sound the alarm. To open our mouths even when it's uncomfortable. To be faithful stewards of the warning we’ve been entrusted with.

Because silence in the face of deception is not mercy—it’s abandonment.