Esther II: Calling

How many of you remember it? Maybe you were sitting in front of the TV, maybe you were lucky enough to be a little closer.
But, none of us were Buzz Aldrin.
And, sometimes, that leads to conspiracy theories.

Bart Sibrel, the guy who Aldrin punched in the face after calling him a liar, coward and a thief
“I went from being the biggest fan of the ‘moon missions’ to being their biggest critic… the moon landing was a Cold War CIA and Nixon administration deception”
His argument is about “how two shadows in sunlight, from objects five feet apart from one another, can intersect at 90 degrees."

An interesting question comes into my mind about this: who has lived more? Who has lived out the fullness of what perhaps God had created him to be? Is it in living something out or disproving what someone else is living? What truly is life lived?

Depending on what version you read, we have this scene come together either with an intermediary or with the two of them together.
Mordecai asks Esther to go see the king, and she stutters. Which, too, might be understandable: I’ve not be invited to see the King in a month, I might die!
And then Mordecai delivers his return: perhaps you have come to royal dignity for just such a time as this. (Kairos!)

Mordecai argues that everything that has happened in Esther’s life has created a perfect moment to live into her calling. Right place, right time, right person.
But, notice the way he frames this argument

“Do not think that in the king’s palace…”: you are not safe because of your position. You can’t be passive here. This makes me wonder about Esther’s reasoning: was it really fear of the King? Was it an argument for safety?
“If you keep silent, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another quarter…”: Mordecai’s faith. It’s clear he believes that God will save God’s people. Where? Maybe he knows, but it’s not the point.

Vocation, faith, calling, all these words that swirl around this conversation, one thing is clear: it’s not a space for spectators. Death comes for the spectator no matter where he or she is.
And, perhaps, the spectator is already dead. Disengaged, arms crossed, peering into the motion of the world about them, unmoved by the action. The only signs of life are to give reason why they should not be moved, or why other’s aren’t moving: the Bart Sibrel’s to the Buzz Aldrin’s of the world.
And if there’s something that can kill a church, fill it with spectators. The view of Christianity so much to those outside of it is the church of unmoved spectators.
But what’s interesting in Esther is the same thing for us: the life that is meant to be saved might be as much ours.

What you do in your life might change the world, but perhaps more than anything, we can hope that it changes you. That you are living into who you’re made to be. That a passive faith isn’t the one God gives us to live.
It is active! Alive! Heartrending. Fearful, joyous. It is everything that we can experience to the hilt. Wouldn’t you love to believe in something that was worth saying “if I perish, I perish?"
And that full life is what changes things. It’s what moves us from Sibrel to Aldrin.

The saddest part of Work Camp was hearing a youth say they wish some of the older adults would talk to them more.

What if you knew that the one conversation you had with someone here would be the thing that would change one of the youth’s life
What if you know that the one conversation you had with someone here would be the thing that would change your life? Save it?

There are chances to feel the vibrancy of life in community. Even as simple as just showing up for a meal or a cup of coffee. But that is our calling, our vocation. And it might just save our lives.