There is something about a watch. Something about that leather strap with a constant reminder of progression. The ominous silence constantly calling out the warning, “time is moving!” Yet, there is a sense of control over that time when we wear a watch. The watch keeps track of the time, still, I hold the watch on my wrist in some manner holding time in my hand. As if in by some mysterious magic I am capable of wielding the power of time. Somehow it becomes me to believe that wearing a watch gives me some modicum of control over time. Or at least control over its power over me.
Still, time presses on. On my wrist remains the constant refrain that moments are sliding by, the crushing reality that I have not seized every moment and made the best use of every breath. Still, in this moment I hold the marker on my arm. Such a time-piece offers an odd sort of comfort amidst dismay. There is just something about a watch.
Sometimes I would like to disregard the time. I’d like to believe that I have some control of the passage that my wristwatch chronicles for me. I know that I cannot hold back the waters of time. Paul says that we are to make the most use of the time, “for the days are evil” (Ephesians 5:16). He describes the days as wicked and malicious against us. And so they are. These moments of unforgiving weight that records our wait. They propel us into a desperate need to “do” and a constant sense that we must be active and work. Yet, Christ calls us to rest. The watch can drive me to labor or… something else.
As I ponder the weight of time on the human frame- that slow back bending reality that each of us must submit to, I am reminded that the watch has not always bound me to a pressure. There was a day when the watch served to remind me of the glory of rest. “For six days you shall labor, and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God. On it, you shall not do any work…” (Exodus 20:9-11). And again, “Above all you shall keep my Rest, for this is a sign between me and you throughout your generations, that you may know that I, the LORD, sanctify you!” (Exodus 31:13). The watch calls me to hold a vigil in anticipation of rest amidst our work. It brings to mind the sanctification of my soul by the LORD, simultaneously marrying the futile reality of this life and reminding me of the glory of that blessed rest to come.
The slow, constant click of the faithful chronicler I have chosen to bind on my arm serves to draw me into eager expectant waiting. Waiting for that day when my Lord will return to set aright all that my watch has recorded. Waiting for the day when rest from labor is constant and purified in the wake of my King’s return. Waiting with each tick of the hand pressing me further into the pursuit of Sabbath joy.
There is just something about a watch. It can propel one to dismay or joy. There is just something about a watch.