**The Broken Watchman: A Story of Jerusalem’s Last Warning**

The sun hung low over Jerusalem, casting long shadows across the city’s ancient walls. The air was thick with the scent of baking bread and burning incense, but beneath it lingered something darker—an unease, a tension like the quiet before a storm. The people moved through their daily routines, bartering in the markets, laughing in the courtyards, yet their laughter rang hollow. They did not see what was coming.

But Jeremiah saw.

The prophet stood atop the northern ridge, his cloak whipping in the wind as he gazed toward the horizon. There, beyond the rolling hills, a distant cloud of dust rose like a serpent uncoiling. The Babylonians. They were coming.

God had spoken to him in the night, His voice like thunder shaking the prophet’s bones: *”Flee for safety, people of Benjamin! Leave Jerusalem. Blow the trumpet in Tekoa, raise the signal over Beth Hakkerem! For disaster looms from the north, even terrible destruction.”*

Jeremiah’s heart pounded as he descended into the city, his sandals kicking up dust. He had to warn them. He had to make them listen.

### **The Shepherds Who Fed Themselves**

He went first to the priests, the men who should have been the shepherds of the people. They sat in the temple courts, their robes pristine, their faces smooth with complacency.

“Repent!” Jeremiah cried. “The Lord says, ‘From the least to the greatest, all are greedy for gain; prophets and priests alike, all practice deceit. They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious. “Peace, peace,” they say, when there is no peace.’”

The high priest, a man named Pashhur, sneered. “You speak madness, Jeremiah. Jerusalem stands strong. The temple of the Lord is here—He would never let it fall.”

Jeremiah’s voice dropped to a whisper, heavy with sorrow. “Because you have rejected God’s word, what wisdom do you have? The sword you fear will reach you. The exile you dread will take you.”

But they laughed. They called him a traitor, a madman.

### **The People Who Would Not Listen**

Next, Jeremiah went to the marketplace, where merchants weighed silver with dishonest scales and the poor groaned under their burdens.

“Hear, O earth!” he shouted. “The Lord is bringing a nation against you, an ancient nation whose language you do not know. Their quivers are like an open grave; all of them are mighty warriors.”

A woman selling linen scoffed. “Why do you frighten us with your words? We have our sacrifices. We keep the feasts. God is pleased with us!”

Jeremiah clenched his fists. “Your burnt offerings are not acceptable; your sacrifices do not please Him. What does the Lord require? Justice. Righteousness. But you have filled this land with violence!”

Still, they turned away.

### **The Watchman’s Lament**

That night, Jeremiah climbed the city walls, staring north. The fires of the Babylonian encampment now dotted the horizon like red eyes in the darkness.

He wept.

“O Jerusalem,” he whispered, “if only you had obeyed. The Lord appointed you as a refiner’s furnace, to purify His people, but you are all stubborn rebels, walking in deceit. You are bronze and iron, all corrupt. The bellows blow fiercely to burn away the lead, but the refining goes on in vain—the wicked are not purged out.”

A cold wind howled through the streets, carrying with it the sound of distant drums. The siege was beginning.

### **The Last Appeal**

At dawn, Jeremiah stood in the temple courtyard one final time. His voice, hoarse from pleading, carried over the murmuring crowd.

“Thus says the Lord: ‘Stand at the crossroads and look. Ask for the ancient paths: Where is the good way? Walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.’ But you said, ‘We will not walk in it.’ So now, I will bring disaster you cannot escape. Though you cry out, I will not listen.”

A stone struck his shoulder. Then another. The crowd surged forward, shouting, “Enough of your doom! Be silent!”

But Jeremiah lifted his hands to heaven. “The harvest is past, the summer has ended, and we are not saved.”

### **The Siege Begins**

Days turned to weeks. The Babylonian army encircled Jerusalem like a tightening noose. The once-proud gates trembled under the crash of battering rams. Starvation crept through the streets. Mothers wailed as their children grew thin. The rich hoarded grain while the poor clawed at the earth for scraps.

And still, no one repented.

Then came the final night. The walls cracked. The enemy poured in like a flood. Fire consumed the temple. The streets ran red.

From a distance, Jeremiah watched, tears streaming down his face. The Lord had given them every warning. Every chance.

But they would not listen.

And so, Jerusalem fell.