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.