The Watchtower That Kept You Safe

There was a time when the watchtower was not a problem.

It was not excessive, not wrong, not born of fear in the way fear is usually understood. It was a response. A wise one. A necessary one. The soul learned to rise above the ground and look out, not because it wanted control, but because remaining unaware had once been costly.

From that height, the soul learned to read the horizon. To sense changes before they arrived. To notice tone, mood, atmosphere. To stay ready. To stay awake. To stay one step ahead. This was not anxiety. It was protection. It was skill. It was how safety was preserved when safety could not be assumed.

The watchtower kept you safe when peace was unpredictable. It stood guard when calm could shift without warning. And so the soul learned that vigilance was not optional - it was responsible. It was caring. It was how harm was prevented. In that season, the watchtower was mercy.

Scripture speaks gently to this kind of protection. “He who watches over you will neither slumber nor sleep.” The soul was mirroring what it believed was required - that someone must stay awake. Someone must be alert. Someone must be watching. And for a long time, that someone was you.

But what the soul could not yet see was this - the watchtower was never meant to be permanent.

Over time, what once kept you safe began to cost you rest. Not because the watchtower was wrong, but because the danger it was built for was no longer present. Yet the soul did not receive the memo. It stayed at its post out of loyalty, not fear. Out of habit, not panic. Standing watch, long after the night had passed.

This is why stepping down feels risky. Not because you are unsafe, but because the soul equates vigilance with care. To stop watching can feel like neglect. To rest can feel irresponsible. And so the watchtower remains occupied, even when the land below has changed.

Jesus speaks directly into this place, not with command but with assurance. “Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” His peace does not require oversight. It does not need monitoring. It does not depend on readiness. It simply remains.

This message is not asking you to demolish the watchtower. It is not asking you to pretend it was unnecessary. Honour comes before release. Gratitude comes before rest. The watchtower did its job. It served well. It protected what mattered when protection was needed.

But now, the invitation is different.

What if safety no longer depends on you watching everything?

What if rest does not mean something will be missed?

What if the One who neither slumbers nor sleeps is inviting you to come down?

Stepping down is not abandonment. It is trust. It is the soul learning that vigilance can retire without guilt. That awareness does not have to carry burden. That peace does not need to be guarded to remain.

The watchtower may still stand. But you no longer need to live there.

You are allowed to return to the ground.

You are allowed to inhabit the moment.

You are allowed to be present without scanning.

This is not the loss of wisdom.

It is the beginning of rest.

And nothing bad happens when you step down.