Each photo below corresponds to the chapter-a-day post for the book of Luke published by Tom Vander Well in March and April of 2026. Click on the photo linked to each chapter to read the post.
Luke (Mar-Apr 2026)
At the Table
“This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
Luke 2:12 (NIV)
In a couple of weeks I will celebrate my 20th anniversary of this chapter-a-day blogging and podcasting journey. I’ve been mulling that over a lot over the past year. The truth is that this was in many ways an overflow of a daily practice I carved out for many years before that. Each morning I crawl out of bed, I grab a cup of coffee and I show up at the table. There, I spend some time with God, meditating, praying, and thinking about where I find myself on life’s road.
Along this journey, I’ve observed that many people hope for a connection with God at their weekly church service. The hope is that being in a building they believe is God’s House, somewhere amidst the music, the spectacle, the communal worship, and the spoken word they will experience something special.
As a follower of Jesus I am called to gather with fellow believers regularly, and God does inhabit and work in-and-through the praise and worship of His people. I have observed, however, that this lends itself to wanting or expecting something amazing, emotional, and spectacular. Sometimes churches even try to create those moments intentionally — crafting services designed to stir powerful emotions.
My own experience is that this misses the point.
It wasn’t a conscious choice on my part to move from the story of Esther to Luke’s version of Jesus’ story. Yet, in the first two chapters I’m finding connections I’ve never seen before. In yesterday’s chapter, it was the fact that God raises simple, faithful, unassuming people into key players within the Great Story. In today’s chapter, it’s reversals. The story of Esther is known for all of its reversals of fortune. Wouldn’t you know it, today’s chapter is full of them, as well.
The best and the brightest of religious minds and thinkers expected God’s Messiah to arrive in pomp. The Messiah, it was believed, would establish an earthly throne, wipe out the Roman Empires and subdue the nations, reign in earthly glory in Jerusalem where the entire earth would come to worship him.
But through the prophet Isaiah God had already said:
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,”
declares the Lord.”
Building on yesterday’s chapter, we find that the Messiah enters human history quietly through unassuming people of simple faith. In today’s chapter, Luke methodically present this reversal:
| What People Expected | What God Actually Did |
|---|---|
| The Messiah would arrive in royal splendor | A baby is born quietly to a young couple of simple faith |
| The King would be announced to rulers and priests | Angels announce Him to shepherds in a field |
| The Messiah would enter the world through power | He enters through vulnerability, lying in a manger |
| The religious elite would recognize Him first | Two elderly saints quietly recognize Him in the Temple |
| God’s presence would remain centered in the Temple | Jesus begins forming relationships around everyday tables |
| The kingdom would overthrow Rome by force | The kingdom begins by transforming hearts |
Jesus did show up at the Temple. In fact, He does so twice in today’s chapter. Once as a baby and then as a twelve-year-old. But God’s Son is already establishing that His ways are not the ways of religious institutions. His focus will never be the Temple, because He knows that the Temple will be rubble in 40 years. He even tells His disciples this. His focus is on the table…
- The table he learns to craft with his earthly father’s training
- The table he shares daily with family and community for thirty years
- The table where he eats with His disciples
- The table where he dines with tax collectors and sinners
- The table where he has a midnight conversation with Nicodemus
- The table where Pharisees host Him as a guest
- The table where Lazarus throws a dinner party in His honor
- The table where He celebrates one final Passover and blesses bread and wine
In the quiet this morning, Luke reminds me that a major paradigm shift has already begun. Jesus would go to the Temple for festivals, but His focus was never on the spectacle and bustle of the Temple. His focus was daily spent quietly at the table with others.
It’s no accident that Luke’s version of Jesus’ story begins with a baby laid in a feeding trough and ends with bread broken at a table. From the beginning, God was inviting us not to a spectacle, but to a meal.
My relationship with Jesus began in a church. Worship with my local gathering of Jesus’ followers is an essential part of the spiritual rhythm of my life. But it’s not the most transformative part. The most transformative part of my relationship with Jesus is here in the quiet of my office, every morning, at the table.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
When the Spirit Hovers Again
The angel answered, “The Holy Spirit will come on you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.”
Luke 1:35 (NIV)
Yesterday we finished our trek through the story of Esther in which God providentially works through two unassuming individuals to save the Jewish people from genocide. Mordecai and his niece Esther were exiles and foreigners in Persia. Mordecai was a bureaucratic paper pusher. Esther was just a young girl.
God loves to work through unassuming people of faith.
As we begin our Lenten trek through Luke’s biography of Jesus, we see this same paradigm again.
An old priest and his wife who live in the back-country hills of Judah.
A young girl in the backwater town of Nazareth.
These are nobodies. Simple people living faithfully where life has planted them. But through them, God is going to begin a new creation.
When Mary asks the angel Gabriel how she could be pregnant, since she was a virgin, he said that God’s Spirit would “overshadow” her. That’s a fascinating word to use. The Greek word means “to overshadow,” the language used when God’s presence fills the tabernacle. It also echoes the opening chapter of the Great Story in which God’s Spirit “hovers” over the chaos and creation begins. Gabriel is announcing that through Mary a new creation is about to begin, and Mary will become like an Ark of the New Covenant.
The Ark of the Covenant was the most sacred object in Israel.
Inside it were three things:
- The stone tablets of the Law
- A jar of manna
- Aaron’s priestly staff
Above it rested what was known as the mercy seat, and God’s glory—the Shekinah—was said to dwell there. In other words, the Ark represented the place where God’s presence touched the earth. And when the Ark was placed in the tabernacle, Scripture says the cloud of God’s glory “overshadowed” it — and there’s that word again.
Now watch what Luke does.
Luke structures Mary’s visit to Elizabeth so that it mirrors an earlier story in Israel’s history.
The story appears in 2 Samuel, when King David brings the Ark to Jerusalem.
Let’s compare the passages.
| Ark Story | Mary Story |
|---|---|
| David travels to the hill country of Judah | Mary travels to the hill country of Judah |
| David asks: “How can the ark of the Lord come to me?” | Elizabeth asks: “Why am I so favored that the mother of my Lord should come to me?” |
| The Ark stays in the house of Obed-Edom three months | Mary stays with Elizabeth about three months |
| David leaps/dances before the Ark | John leaps in Elizabeth’s womb |
Now, let’s compare what was in the Ark of the Covenant and what is inside of Mary…
| Ark Contents | Fulfillment in Mary |
|---|---|
| Stone tablets of the Law | Jesus — the living Word |
| Jar of manna | Jesus — the bread of life |
| Aaron’s priestly staff | Jesus — the ultimate High Priest |
Luke begins his version of Jesus’ story by telling us that God’s glory no longer lives in a golden box inside a temple.
Instead, it lives:
- in the womb of a teenage girl
- in a stable outside Bethlehem
- in the life of a wandering rabbi with the calloused hands of a carpenter
God has moved out of the temple and into the neighborhood.
And what neighborhood?
Not the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, nor in glorious Rome— but to a back water town in Galilee. A rural nowhere where you’ll find simple people of faith living quiet, every day lives.
The kind of unassuming people God loves to use.
The same Spirit who overshadowed:
- the waters of creation
- the tabernacle in the wilderness
- Mary in Nazareth
now chooses to dwell in ordinary lives that say yes to Him.
In the quiet this morning, my heart is mulling over the reality that God tends to create the most world-changing things in hidden places. The very theme I saw all over the place in Esther’s story.
Before creation, there was dark water.
Before redemption, there was a quiet womb.
The Spirit doesn’t only move in thunder.
Sometimes He hovers.
Over a life.
Over a calling.
Over a slow, unseen work of grace.
And when He does, creation happens all over again.
“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”
2 Corinthians 5:17 (NIV)
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
Serving in Small Empires
Mordecai the Jew was second in rank to King Xerxes, preeminent among the Jews, and held in high esteem by his many fellow Jews, because he worked for the good of his people and spoke up for the welfare of all the Jews.
Esther 10:3 (NIV)
I have often mentioned in these blog posts that the Great Story from Genesis to Revelation is primarily a story of conflict between God’s Kingdom and human empire. The story of Esther is fascinating because it is about God’s people living in exile within a foreign empire. Mordecai and Esther begin the story as anonymous cogs within the Persian Empire, but they are placed in positions where they can make a positive difference for their people within an antagonistic system.
This theme is echoed in the teachings of Jesus, whose followers were marginalized minions operating under occupation by the Roman Empire and corrupt authority of the ruling religious system. The letters of the New Testament are equally addressed to followers of Jesus living through persecution from those same two kingdoms of this world.
Along my life journey, I’ve observed that the theme of “human empire” has far reaching implications. Empire exists at a number of levels. In my career I have worked with numerous clients—from giant global corporations to small family businesses. Each one is a type of human empire with a certain degree of control and impact on the lives of human beings. Likewise, the nuclear family is a type of human empire. I’ve observed what happens to children who grow up in a tyrannical home or a home in which leadership is passive or absent.
Of course, my life itself is a micro-level human empire. I have free will. I control my thoughts, words, actions, and choices.
Today’s chapter is a three-verse epilogue to the story of Esther. After all the intrigue, the fear, the courage, and the great turning of the tables, the story ends quietly. Mordecai simply goes to work—seeking the good of his people and speaking for their welfare. No miracles split the sky. No prophets thunder from the hills. Life resumes under the vast reign of Xerxes I.
Yet God placed them in positions of influence within that system.
In those positions they could serve themselves, or they could use their influence for the good of others. Esther ends with Mordecai choosing the latter.
In the quiet this morning I find myself reflecting on the reality that I face the same choice every day in every little empire where the paperwork, bureaucracy, and machinations of my life unfold.
My personal life
My marriage and family
My business
My community
My church
Each day I choose who I am going to serve.
And perhaps that is the final lesson of Esther: God’s hand is often most present not in spectacle but in faithful people who quietly use whatever influence they have for the good of others. And who knows? Perhaps that quiet faithfulness is exactly how God continues to turn the tables in our world today — one small empire at a time.
Tomorrow, we begin a trek through the book of Luke.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
Miraculous Turnarounds
On the thirteenth day of the twelfth month, the month of Adar, the edict commanded by the king was to be carried out. On this day the enemies of the Jews had hoped to overpower them, but now the tables were turned and the Jews got the upper hand over those who hated them.
Esther 9:1 (NIV)
It’s time for March Madness. Here in Iowa the state tournaments are in full swing. Just last week a girls team that was down by six points with just 46 seconds ended up winning by five. An 11-point swing in less than one minute.
You gotta love a miraculous last minute turnaround.
And that, in many ways, is the heartbeat of Esther.
What looked like certain doom becomes eucatastrophic deliverance.
| # | Original Situation | The Reversal | Where It Happens |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Queen Vashti refuses the king and is removed | Esther, a Jewish orphan, becomes queen | Esther 1–2 |
| 2 | Esther hides her Jewish identity | Her identity becomes the very thing that saves her people | Esther 2 → Esther 7 |
| 3 | Mordecai saves the king’s life but receives no recognition | His forgotten act becomes the turning point of the story | Esther 2:21–23 → Esther 6 |
| 4 | Haman rises to power as the king’s chief official | Mordecai is elevated to that same position | Esther 3 → Esther 10 |
| 5 | Haman demands Mordecai bow before him | Haman must lead Mordecai through the city honoring him | Esther 3 → Esther 6:11 |
| 6 | Haman plans genocide against the Jews | The Jews gain the legal right to defend themselves | Esther 3 → Esther 8 |
| 7 | A royal decree orders the destruction of the Jews | A second decree authorizes their protection and victory | Esther 3:13 → Esther 8:11 |
| 8 | Haman builds gallows to execute Mordecai | Haman is executed on the very gallows he built | Esther 5:14 → Esther 7:10 |
| 9 | Haman expects honor from the king | Mordecai receives the honor instead | Esther 6 |
| 10 | The Jews prepare for slaughter on the chosen day | Their enemies are defeated on that very day | Esther 9:1 |
| 11 | Fear of the empire hangs over the Jews | Fear of the Jews falls upon the empire | Esther 9:2 |
| 12 | The day chosen by lot (Pur) for Jewish destruction | The day becomes a festival celebrating Jewish deliverance (Purim) | Esther 9:26 |
| 13 | Haman’s house rises in power | His sons and lineage are destroyed | Esther 9:7–10 |
| 14 | Mordecai sits outside the gate in sackcloth | Mordecai leaves the palace in royal robes and authority | Esther 4:1 → Esther 8:15 |
Esther isn’t just a story of survival. It’s a story of reversal.
As I meditated on this in the quiet this morning I was reminded that this story does not exist isolated among the ancient stories in the Great Story. They are connected as they progressively lead toward the larger climax of the Great Story.
God has promised in Eden that One would come to deliver humanity from the consequences of sin and death. Later, God reveals that this Anointed One, Deliverer, and Messiah would be born through the Hebrew people. While God is never mentioned in the story of Esther, His fingerprints are everywhere. Without this miraculous turnaround—if the Hebrew people had been wiped out—God’s promise could not be fulfilled.
Doom looked certain for Moses and the Hebrews when the Egyptian army was closing in on them. In a miraculous turnaround, God parts the waters for the Hebrews then closes the waters in on the Egyptian army.
Doom looked certain for David as King Saul, the man with all of the power, put a price on his head. David refused to take matters into his own hands, trusting that if God wanted him on the throne as promised, God would see it done. It didn’t happen immediately. But the events that followed were no less than a miraculous turnaround of fortunes. The house of Saul fell (a bit like Haman), and the house of David was established.
Throughout the Great Story…
Schemes unfold.
Enemies seem powerful.
God appears silent.
But Scripture insists something else is happening.
Behind the curtain of history…God is writing reversals.
The cross itself was the ultimate reversal in history.
- The day meant to destroy Jesus became the day that destroyed death.
- The Prince of this World and his kingdoms thought they had won.
- But it was only Friday…Sunday was coming.
The Kingdom of God loves a last-minute plot twist.
So here’s the invitation today’s chapter whispers to me:
The day marked for my defeat may already be scheduled for my deliverance.
The lot has been cast.
But heaven still controls the calendar.
And if I listen closely … I can almost hear the music swelling as the curtain prepares to fall.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
In a System I Don’t Control
Esther again pleaded with the king, falling at his feet and weeping. She begged him to put an end to the evil plan of Haman the Agagite, which he had devised against the Jews.
Esther 8:3 (NIV)
Over the course of my career I’ve worked with a veritable plethora of clients—from companies you’d instantly recognize to many you’ve never heard of. For me, one of the most fascinating aspects of that journey has been encountering so many different corporate cultures.
In my upcoming book This Call May Be Monitored (What Eavesdropping on Corporate America Taught Me About Business and Life) [FYI: Book available mid-late April], I share a number of different experiences. One of them included a major retailer whose contact center was in the lower level of their corporate headquarters. Internally, we referred to it as “The Bunker.”
The Bunker was a rather small space crammed tight with tiny work stations. Agents were packed in like sardines. It was loud and uncomfortable. Agents were metaphorically chained to their desks. If you needed to use the restroom you were required to raise your hand and ask permission. It was no wonder they were struggling with poor customer experiences delivered by unhappy agents.
One of the challenges I have often faced in my career is that of trying to help clients move the needle on the customer experience within an antagonistic system. Often our team is hired by a lower-level executive who has little influence over whoever occupies the corner office of the C-suite. And corporate culture always flows out of the corner office.
In today’s chapter, Esther finds herself in a position that is both positive and precarious. Her nemesis, Haman, is dead but Haman’s genocidal decree remains in place. Victory over an enemy is not enough if the system he built still stands. She must risk her life a second time to approach the King, plead for her people, and request a reversal of his earlier decree.
Jewish scholars view Esther as a road map for life in exile and diaspora. Both Mordecai and Esther have no control over the culture of the foreign Persian Empire in which they live. Their exile began under the Babylonian Empire. Now the Persian Empire holds sway. In this game of thrones, they found themselves having to shift, adapt, and learn to live under very different cultures and realities.
Paul in his letter to the believers in Corinth echoes this same paradigm for followers of Jesus:
Though I am free and belong to no one, I have made myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God’s law but am under Christ’s law), so as to win those not having the law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings.
1 Corinthians 9:19-23 (NIV)
One of the joys of my career has been to participate with clients in making positive and transformative changes. The client began listening to customers and addressing the systemic issues that were undermining the customer experience. The Bunker was eventually scuttled and agents moved into a modern, spacious contact center space. The company grew and became even more profitable. I had a front row seat and had the opportunity of participating in the transformation.
In the quiet this morning, I’m reminded that I will often find myself operating within dysfunctional systems I don’t control. What I do control, however, are my own words and actions — and how I personally operate within that system. I can either participate in the dysfunction, or I can become an agent of change.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
Evil Implodes
Then Harbona, one of the eunuchs attending the king, said, “A pole reaching to a height of fifty cubits stands by Haman’s house. He had it set up for Mordecai, who spoke up to help the king.”
The king said, “Impale him on it!”
Esther 7:9 (NIV)
Evil eventually implodes. It is inherently unstable.
This is a lesson that I’ve learned on my journey. The first place I remember learning it was in The Lord of the Rings. It’s a recurring theme throughout the trilogy, but I first noticed it in the character of Gollum. He’s a despicable creature, driven from the start by selfish hunger for the Ring. Despite the opportunity to kill the creature as an act of justice, Gandalf wisely refuses. Mercy, he suggests, may prove wiser than vengeance—because the story isn’t done yet.
Evil eventually implodes—and when it does, it often finds its own unforeseen justice. Were it not for Gollum’s selfish intent and lust for the Ring, it would never have been destroyed.
I thought about this as I meditated on today’s short, but thrilling climactic chapter in Esther’s story. The entire story of Esther is a study in “reversals,” and today’s chapter is full of them as the evil Haman’s plot quickly implodes on him.
| Haman’s Plan | Actual Outcome |
|---|---|
| Mordecai will be impaled | Haman is impaled |
| Esther will die | Esther triumphs |
| Haman gains honor | Mordecai gains honor |
| Haman controls the king | The king destroys Haman |
In a wonderful ironic cosmic twist, Haman is impaled on his own spike that had been set up to kill Mordecai.
Evil eventually implodes. It is inherently unstable.
In the quiet this morning, I take solace in this simple truth as each morning Wendy and I eat our breakfast, peruse the news, and discuss the evils of the world.
Evil often looks unstoppable—until the moment it collapses.
For six chapters Haman appears untouchable:
- He has royal authority.
- He controls the narrative.
- He manipulates the king.
- He has the gallows ready.
But beneath the surface, the story is quietly turning.
God’s providence works like underground water.
Silent.
Invisible.
Patient.
Until suddenly the earth gives way.
Haman’s downfall happens in minutes.
Years of arrogance.
Then one moment of collapse
The hard part is in the waiting and the discerning. It’s one of the places where I find that God’s ways are not my ways. Blessing those who curse me and praying for my enemies doesn’t feel like justice, and God asks that I leave the justice to Him and the larger Great Story.
Like Gandalf understanding that Gollum may yet have a role to play in the tale of the Ring.
But I don’t want to wait. I want justice now.
There are seasons in life when it feels like Haman is winning.
The arrogant rise.
The cruel prosper.
The faithful seem powerless.
Esther reminds me that history has trap doors built into it. The proud eventually step on them. Evil implodes.
I am asked to do what Esther did:
Wait.
Discern the moment.
Speak when the time is right.
And when the moment arrives, a single courageous and well-crafted sentence can change everything.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
The Machinery of Heaven
That night the king could not sleep…
Esther 6:1a (NIV)
My entire life I have struggled with bouts of insomnia. I wake in the wee hours. My brain spins like a top. I can’t shut it off.
It is what it is.
One remedy I’ve discovered over the years is to lay on the couch and put something on the television that I really like, but I know won’t hold my attention. I learned this with Casablanca. It’s my all-time favorite movie, but I’ve watched it countless times. I know it by heart. My brain knows it so well that it sort of shuts down and I can fall back asleep. In recent years it’s been Ken Burns’ documentary The Civil War. Same concept. Something that stimulates my heart but, because of familiarity, not my brain.
As I begin writing today’s post it’s just before 4:00 a.m. I’ve been up since around 2:30. How ironic that when I decided to meditate on today’s chapter it begins with: “That night the king couldn’t sleep.”
God definitely has a sense of humor.
And, it just might be one of the most understated turning points in the entire Great Story.
For five chapters the story of Esther has been building.
A proud and impetuous emperor finds his entire empire threatened when his queen refuses to be summoned and placed on display.
A young Jewish girl taken against her will, groomed in a harem, chosen above all of the hundreds of other candidates to be named queen.
A rising star of the empire has a burr under his saddle because one man, Esther’s uncle, refuses to bow to him like a god. Instead of dealing with the man, he plots to kill the man’s entire race.
The entire story, and the history of an entire race hinges on one man’s bout with insomnia.
The king can’t sleep. There’s no television, so he chooses the next best thing. He has his servant read something boring. The chronicles of his own reign. Instead of putting him to sleep, the King’s brain latches on to something he’d overlooked.
The events of today’s chapter are so layered with meaning—so dripping with irony—that it’s hard to do them justice with a simple summary.
Hearing the chronicles read in his insomnia, the king realizes Mordecai saved his life in unearthing an assassination plot. He also realizes that nothing had been done to honor Mordecai for his service. This was not only an oversight, but in Persian culture it was a grave dishonor. The king is motivated to correct this by doubly honoring the man who saved his life.
Haman, who has just built the gallows to execute Mordecai, enters the king’s court to request permission to kill the very man the King wants to doubly honor.
Before he can do so, the King asks Haman to describe how he should honor a man in whom he delights. In his ego, Haman assumes it’s himself, so he goes over the top in offering his wish list.
The king agrees to the list, then unwittingly informs Haman that the honoree is his nemesis, Mordecai, the very man Haman wants to execute. Haman is tasked with the humiliation of overseeing the public honoring of his own enemy.
What makes Esther unique in Scripture is that God is never named. Yet His fingerprints are everywhere.
Consider the chain reaction in this chapter:
A king can’t sleep.
A random scroll is chosen.
A forgotten act is rediscovered.
The most prideful man in Persia walks into the room at the worst possible moment.
The enemy of Mordecai becomes the herald of his honor.
None of those events are miraculous, yet together they form a miracle.
Along this life journey I’ve experienced again and again that God’s providence hides inside ordinary moments. The turning points of my life rarely look like thunder from heaven. More often they look like:
a conversation
a delay
a memory resurfacing
a sleepless night
The machinery of heaven is astonishingly quiet.
And, so I finish up this post in the wee hours meditating on the fact that sometimes insomnia is just insomnia. But in at least one instance, insomnia was the hinge that changed the course of history.
Serving a God who is authoring the Great Story, and authoring my story within it, means that even the most ordinary of daily moments are contributing to a larger plot I will never fully know this side of eternity. My job is to traverse each day on this earthly journey loving God and loving every person, every fellow pilgrim I meet, to the best of my ability.
Esther reminds me that I can trust God’s providence with the rest of my story—even in the quiet moments when nothing seems to be happening.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
Shrewd
Esther replied, “My petition and my request is this: If the king regards me with favor and if it pleases the king to grant my petition and fulfill my request, let the king and Haman come tomorrow to the banquet I will prepare for them. Then I will answer the king’s question.”
Esther 5:7-8 (NIV)
In The Godfather, Michael Corleone shares one of the secrets of his success with a compatriot. “My father always said, ‘Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”
It wasn’t just a line. It’s a theme running through the entire trilogy of the classic trilogy. While the family celebrates, Vito eliminates rivals. Michael embraces betrayers at the table, only to deal with them when the moment is right. Baptisms and executions unfold in parallel.
One of the more fascinating, and challenging, of Jesus’ parables are those that honor shrewdness. The vineyard owner hires workers throughout the day and agrees to pay each the same amount of money. Those who worked ten hours agreed to the same wage as those who worked two. They are angry, but Jesus says that the vineyard owner was generous, and while Jesus doesn’t specifically say it, the owner was also shrewd. In another parable, a manager who has just been sacked goes to all the vendors who owe his boss money and settles their debts for a fraction of what’s owed. In the parable, the fired manager is complimented for being so shrewd.
These things came to mind this morning as I read today’s chapter. Esther is Queen. The villain Haman has set genocide into motion for all the Jews in the Persian Empire. Mordecai has implored Esther that God has put her on the throne “for such a time as this.” Now, she has to risk her life by going to the King without being summoned, and pray he shows her his favor.
Once again, the author of Esther’s story proves a master story-teller, for today’s chapter does not resolve a single thread of the story line. Instead it builds the tension and ratchets up the anticipation.
And Esther proves herself shrewd.
She goes to the king in full royal regalia.
The king likes bright, shiny, beautiful things, and she knows it.
She doesn’t barge into the throne room making accusations.
The king loves banquets, and being honored. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Rather than calling Haman out in a courtroom, let’s invite him to a feast.
Even with the king begging her to tell him what she wants to talk to him about, and seemingly disposed to do whatever she requests, she puts him off a second time and invites him and Haman to a second feast.
Esther understands the appetites of power — indulgence and intrigue — and she feeds both.
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
In the quiet this morning, I find myself meditating on the lessons Esther has for me with her shrewdness.
I rush into rooms swinging anger.
Esther enters wearing dignity.
I demand justice now.
Esther prepares a table.
I confront fast and furiously.
Esther lets pride expose itself.
Esther reminds me that when it comes to dealing with enemies and those who wish me ill will, I don’t need to force the outcome.
Faith is not frantic. It is patient courage.
Esther channels Paul’s advice to the believers in Rome (who were dealing with their own brand of enemies wanting them dead):
Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: “It is mine to avenge; I will repay,” says the Lord. On the contrary:
“If your enemy is hungry, feed him;
if he is thirsty, give him something to drink.
In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head.”
In addition, Esther wears her identity. She doesn’t enter the King’s presence as an orphan. She enters as queen.
As a child of God, I am a child of the King. I can approach the “throne of grace” with the matter of any enemy I may have. And I don’t approach God or the world in rags of insecurity.
The gallows may be rising in someone else’s backyard.
The banquet may still be unfinished.
But I am robed in calling.
And I trust the Author with the timing of the third act.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
Choosing Real
When Esther’s eunuchs and female attendants came and told her about Mordecai, she was in great distress. She sent clothes for him to put on instead of his sackcloth, but he would not accept them.
Esther 4:4 (NIV)
One of the things that makes our little town of Pella, Iowa unique is the importance our community places on the heritage of our Dutch tradition. It’s not casual. It’s a commitment. So much so, in fact, that even businesses must agree to put a little traditional Dutch flair in the architecture of their storefronts. No exceptions. Here in Pella, even Walmart, McDonalds, and Starbucks have a “Dutch Front.”
There’s a spiritual parable in this reality that many in our community have talked about for years. Behind the “Dutch Front” a building is just a building, a business is a business, and there’s no real differentiation from any building or business in the next town over. In Pella, it just “looks” quaint and perfect from the outside.
I thought about this as I read today’s chapter. As Haman’s decree to annihilate and commit genocide against the Jews living in the Persian Empire is spread, Esther’s Uncle Mordecai goes into ritual mourning, putting on sackcloth and covering himself with ashes as he stands outside the King’s Gate. He can’t enter, however.
No one in mourning was allowed inside the palace.
Queen Esther’s people notice the change. There has obviously been regular messages sent back-and-forth between Esther and her Uncle, so as soon as they see him in “mourning” they mention it to the queen. She is distressed and sends for Mordecai and sends a change of clothes.
No one in mourning was allowed inside the palace.
Mordecai refuses and sends a message along with a copy of Haman’s genocidal decree to Esther through her assistant.
What struck me as I meditated on this in the quiet this morning is that the rule sounds ceremonial. But it’s deeply symbolic.
You cannot bring grief into the palace.
Power prefers denial.
The empire runs on appearances:
- silk instead of sackcloth
- banquets instead of mourning
- decrees instead of tears
But reality waits outside the gate.
It always does.
Inside the palace, Esther is insulated. Protected. Sheltered from the smoke rising outside the gate. Her first instinct is telling. She sends Mordecai clothes.
“I want to see you, Uncle. But you have to look the part. No sadness. No ashes. Come inside and pretend with the rest of us that everything is lovely.”
Esther tries to restore dignity instead of confronting danger.
Comfort before truth.
Appearance before reality.
It’s a profoundly human reflex. We want problems to be smaller than they are. We want ashes replaced with garments. We want the crisis to be cosmetic.
We want to maintain the illusion that life is always quaint and perfect behind the Dutch Front others see from the street.
Mordecai refuses.
Some truths cannot be dressed up.
And that’s a life lesson Esther is about to learn.
Life is messy. Life is hard. And sooner or later, I will face a moment when pretending is no longer an option. I might try to hide it. I might dress myself up in bright clothes and force a fake smile on my face, but it won’t change the circumstances.
One of the lessons I’ve have learned along this life journey is that it’s best to choose to get real about what’s real.
That is the terror of this chapter. Not that Esther might die, but that she might refuse. Because Mordecai says the quiet part out loud: Deliverance will come... but you and your father’s house will perish.
God’s purposes do not depend on my cooperation.
My participation in them does.
And here is where today’s chapter gets real. I observe that we all to some degree like life with some version of a Dutch Front. I want safety and certainty. I want easy. I want happy. I want everything to be alright at all times. And even when that’s not true, I want everyone around me to perceive that I have it all together. Everything is beautiful behind Tom’s Pinterest-worthy, Instagram curated, Facebook projected life.
Esther finds out that life sometimes give us the opposite.
She and her people have received a death sentence. She is between a rock and a hard place. She can do something about it, but that requires getting real, breaking protocol, and risking everything.
No guarantee of success
No promise of survival
No assurance of favor.
Only this: You are here. This is your moment.
And faith answers with the most dangerous words a human being can say: “If I perish, I perish.“
That is the line where spectators become participants.
The line where belief becomes action.
The line where providence finds a human partner.
Today’s chapter is where Esther stops being the girl the story happened to…
…and becomes the woman the story moves through.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.