Even your secret places are safe with Him.

You may have encountered the ‘Watchers’ in your ‘through the bible in a year’ readings this year. It’s a brief encounter, blink or skim, and you have missed it, but when you do read, they stand out. The watchers in Daniel are a strange and sudden presence. They appear only briefly, and yet their mention lingers like thunder rumbling deeply before the storm. In Daniel 4, Nebuchadnezzar in full panic tells his troubling dream: “I saw in the visions of my head as I lay in bed, and behold, a watcher, a holy one, came down from heaven”. No name. No lineage. Just a title – watcher. Sent from above, not to observe passively, but to speak with authority, to decree a judgment. “This sentence is by the decree of the watchers, the decision by the word of the holy ones, to the end that the living may know that the Most High rules the kingdom of men.” Gulp! Definitely one for a Netflix thriller.

Who are they? The text does not spell it out. Some see them as angels – spiritual beings who attend the throne of God and carry out His will on earth. We don’t know, but that fits the context. These watchers do not speak for themselves. Their decree is ultimately divine. Their judgment serves God’s purpose: to humble a king, to make him know what he had forgotten – that he was not sovereign. The watchers are not rogue entities, nor spiritual, heavenly spies. They are heaven’s messengers, working in concert with the God who sees all.

And that’s the tension – being watched. There’s a discomfort in the thought that brings with it a kind of vulnerability. Modern life bristles against the notion – privacy is sacred, highly valued, prized. To be observed feels like a violation, but the watchers in Daniel aren’t creepy Facetime, Instagram reel voyeurs. They represent the God who watches not to accuse, but to redeem. His watching is never indifferent. It is love that looks, not suspicion.

Jesus said it plainly: “Your Father who sees in secret will reward you.” Not the Watcher who waits to pounce, but the Father who sees and stays. Who notices the unseen moment – the prayer behind a closed door, the fast not flaunted, the gift not broadcast. He sees not in the impersonal way a security camera sees, but more like the way a parent at the window watches their child walk home in the rain. He sees you because He loves you, and He’s watching out for you. Always, with love and affection.

It’s not just a nice picture, encouraging words – the One watching took flesh. The eternal Word became visible. Watched and watching. You know the stories well; Jesus saw Nathanael under the fig tree before he even contemplated coming to Jesus, watched the widow drop her last two coins in the offering outside the temple. He saw the crowds, and had compassion on them and yet, He was also watched in a way you don’t want to be – stalked by critics, followed by the curious, examined by the proud. Finally, in the ‘aloneness’ of Gethsemane and Golgotha, He was watched in silence until finally, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” The One who was always watching the Son, turned His face away – so that, in Christ, we might never be forsaken.

Judgment is part of the story. It has to be. The watchers came with a decree, and Nebuchadnezzar’s pride was ripped open – exposed. But judgment, in God’s economy, is a doorway to mercy. The king was humbled, yes. Driven out. But in time, restored. “At the end of the days I, Nebuchadnezzar, lifted my eyes to heaven, and my reason returned to me.” It’s an astonishing encounter. The judgment of God leads to repentance, and repentance to life.

So much for Nebuchadnezzar; if you feel watched, you are, but not by a condemning eye. Not by a cosmic policeman. You are seen, watched, observed by the Father who counts your every tear, seen by the Christ who bore your shame, the Spirit who dwells within you. He sees the mess and the beauty. He sees what others don’t. He sees and He stays. He’ll never leave you nor forsake you; He’s not doing that with His eyes closed!

You are not overlooked. Not ever. God is with you and for you, never against.

The will of God is already in front of you

What on Earth does God want you to do? Good question, and we’ve all asked it. This is going to sound a bit simplistic, trite even. (Trite – that’s the first time I think I have ever used that word in writing!) I wonder if we’ve made the will of God into something it was never meant to be: an anxiety-inducing quest for personal certainty, as if somehow, if we don’t ask the right questions in prayer or read the right verse at the right moment, we’ll miss the divine satnav and spend the next decade spiritually lost. We reach for signs, fleeces, confirmations, as if God is playing hard to get. But He’s not hiding. He never was.

Take Gideon. That ‘mighty warrior’ has been turned into a spiritual prototype for indecision. People love the dead-sheep fleece story. Lay it out, wait for the dew, check the ground, reverse the test just to be sure. Rinse and repeat. But they forget the context, and it was an important one. This wasn’t about establishing a principle. Gideon wasn’t trying to decide whether to go on LinkedIn and take a new job, move cities, or join a bigger army. He wasn’t asking God whether to join the band or the welcome team (but please do that). He was called to lead Israel into war. That meant leading his people potentially into pain, blood, tears, anguish… death. He was terrified. He already had a word from God; what he didn’t have was courage. That fleece wasn’t a model of discernment. It was God’s mercy and patience with a hesitant leader in a national crisis. It’s not a biblical method for life decisions. And it certainly wasn’t about choosing between an authentic NewFrontiers style checked shirt or a plain one on Sunday morning.

The truth is, most of us already know what God wants. You do. The problem isn’t uncertainty. It’s reluctance. We squint for detail to avoid the demand of obedience. We say, “I’m seeking the will of God,” but what we mean is, “I don’t want to move until I’m completely comfortable, convinced, compelled.” But faith doesn’t work like that. Faith moves. Faith obeys. Faith serves. The life of faith isn’t fuelled by endless personal clarity – it’s fuelled by trust in the character of God, revealed most clearly in Christ. What God probably has for you, wants for you, is what you are already good at!

God’s will isn’t a hidden track under your feet, one wrong step away from catastrophe. It’s not fragile. And it’s not as specific as we often wish it were. Most of what we need to know has already been shown. Scripture is not silent. Live a life worthy of the calling. Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life, work with your hands, and love your neighbour. Devote yourself to the fellowship of the saints. Use your gifts to serve the church – don’t sit there passively whilst claiming to be charismatic. Be holy. Be thankful. Be generous. Be faithful. There’s no mystery in that.

What we’re often asking for is not guidance – it’s a guarantee. We want certainty before we commit. We want to know the outcome before we act. But God isn’t in the business of pre-approving your comfort. He calls us to faith and obedience. Whilst it is rarely the easiest option, it is right, and He walks with us through it, even when the path is not fully visible.

Often, God’s will for your life is what you already like doing! Who do you think put that interest, that focus, that inspiration in your heart in the first place?

Don’t be in a rush. You don’t need to map out your entire future to be faithful today. You don’t need a prophetic word or a detailed word of knowledge about the picture in your Bible by your bedside to sign up to serve in your local church. You don’t need an angelic visitation to start using the gifts God has given you. Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is simply get on with it. Show up. Love people. Do what your hand finds to do. Ask if you can help, and do it with joy, not waiting for the perfect fit or the glowing confirmation.

Too much emphasis on finding the will of God can bring a paralysis of faith and become a convenient way of avoiding living it, whilst others are faithfully getting on with it. We end up waiting for God to reveal more, while ignoring what He’s already made plain. He hasn’t asked you to have it all figured out. He’s asked you to be faithful and that faithfulness will look very ordinary most of the time. Turning up. Serving others. Dying to self. Living with integrity. Being slow to speak. Quick to forgive. Committed to a people, not just a project.

The turning point is that once you are doing these things, you may find God creating opportunity, favour, and space for other things – things tailor-made for you. Brace yourself – there’s never going to be a big hand appearing and pointing like a lottery advert!

The Spirit leads us, yes. He prompts. He convicts. He gives wisdom. But He rarely hands over a blueprint. He trains us to trust, not to predict. And that trust grows best in community, not in isolation. The local church isn’t a holding pen until your “real” calling begins. It’s the place where your life gets shaped, where your gifts find purpose, where you learn to prefer others, where the will of God gets worked out in real time with real people.

You don’t need another fleece. You don’t need to wait for a sign. You need to move. Get off of your little bottom and walk humbly. Serve faithfully. Love sacrificially. That is the will of God. It’s enough.