Royal Courage Brings Relief & Deliverance
Notes
Transcript
The story of Esther is one of stunning beauty and shocking ugliness. The drama and intrigue run high. Even though it is set in the Persian capital city of Susa during a time of tremendous peace, very little is calm. Very few are content. It begins with an overindulgent king who is peacocking his opulence by throwing a 6 month open-house. At the end of that celebration of self, king Xerxes throws a week-long banquet. Everyone in Susa was invited. The food was plentiful. The decor was splendid. The people reclined on gold couches and pranced on marble and mother-of-pearl floors. The wine flowed like an open-bar wedding. The king made a point to make sure each guest drank to their heart’s content.
But it wasn’t quite enough for high-spirited Xerxes. After seven days of partying, Xerxes wanted to show off his finest prize, his queen, Vashti. He commanded her servants to bring her to him, (Esther 1:11) wearing her royal crown so that everyone could marvel at her beauty in person. But Queen Vashti refused. And once high-spirited Xerxes was now hot—burning with anger. There was no precedent for her defiance and Xerxes was at a loss of what to do. His advisers told him that this could be a cultural flash-point. Her defiance might embolden other women to be disrespectful. To their way of thinking, this was bigger than a marital spat. So they advised Xerxes to depose Vashti and (Esther 1:19) give her royal position to someone else who is better than she. Unsurprisingly this plan pleased the egos of the king and his nobles.
After king Xerxes’ fury subsided, the search for a new queen began. A search party was commissioned to find the most beautiful women in the kingdom. This is when Esther is discovered. She was a pretty young thing who’d had a pretty rough life. Her father and mother had died and she now lived with her older cousin, Mordecai. But because of her inner and outer beauty, Esther quickly rose to the top of the list of candidates. But Mordecai was worried. He warned Esther not to tell anyone about her nationality or her family background. After a year of pampering and beauty treatments, Esther was ready to meet Xerxes. Xerxes was impressed. So he made Esther queen instead of Vashti and he threw a party and proclaimed a holiday.
While Esther was ascending to the throne, her nervous cousin Mordecai was spending more time near the king’s gate. While he was there Mordecai found out about an assassination plot. He passed the intel onto Queen Esther, who passed it on to the king and gave credit to Mordecai for sniffing it out.
In just the first two chapters we have a 6 month party, a defiant and then deposed queen, a beauty pageant, a royal holiday, and a foiled assassination attempt. The book of Esther is filled with the kind of drama that would make the producers of “the Bachelor” drool with envy.
But wait, there’s more. And that’s where we pick up today. There was a prominent and power-hungry man named Haman who also impressed king Xerxes. After some time, he became the highest noble in the land. Everyone knew who he was—and he very much liked the honor and respect that came with his status. He grinned as groups of people bowed down simply because he was walking by. But one man refused. Repeatedly. The royal officials tried to get Mordecai to honor Haman, but (Esther 3:4) he refused to comply. This enraged Haman. He would not, he could not let this insolence stand. He likely had the power to order Mordecai to be executed. But this wasn’t good enough. Instead Haman (Esther 3:6) looked for a way to destroy all Mordecai’s people, the Jews, throughout the whole kingdom. He set his sights on genocide. Nothing less would satisfy him. So crafty Haman leveraged his relationship with king Xerxes. Haman told Xerxes there was a group that wasn’t Persian enough. They were reclusive and rebellious. A defiant group that Xerxes shouldn’t tolerate any longer. Perhaps Vashti was still on his mind, but Xerxes was in full support. He gave Haman his signet ring, signaling Haman had carte blanche to do whatever he wanted. The fate of the Jews was sealed. Their lives were in the hands of a blood-thirsty enemy. Their enemy was about to triumphed, it seemed. The date, as decided by the casting of lots, was 12 months away. Haman lusted for his lucky day.
And the Jews scattered throughout the Persian empire, wept. But they weren’t alone. While the king and Haman sat down to drink, the whole city of Susa was bewildered, wondering what the Jews had done and why they were about to be annihilated. Our text begins with Mordecai’s reaction to this bad news.
Esther 4:1 When Mordecai learned of all that had been done, he tore his clothes, put on sackcloth and ashes, and went out into the city, wailing loudly and bitterly. 2 But he went only as far as the king’s gate, because no one clothed in sackcloth was allowed to enter it. 3 In every province to which the edict and order of the king came, there was great mourning among the Jews, with fasting, weeping and wailing. Many lay in sackcloth and ashes. 4 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. 5 Then Esther summoned Hathak, one of the king’s eunuchs assigned to attend her, and ordered him to find out what was troubling Mordecai and why. 6 So Hathak went out to Mordecai in the open square of the city in front of the king’s gate. 7 Mordecai told him everything that had happened to him, including the exact amount of money Haman had promised to pay into the royal treasury for the destruction of the Jews. 8 He also gave him a copy of the text of the edict for their annihilation, which had been published in Susa, to show to Esther and explain it to her, and he told him to instruct her to go into the king’s presence to beg for mercy and plead with him for her people. 9 Hathak went back and reported to Esther what Mordecai had said. 10 Then she instructed him to say to Mordecai, 11 “All the king’s officials and the people of the royal provinces know that for any man or woman who approaches the king in the inner court without being summoned the king has but one law: that they be put to death unless the king extends the gold scepter to them and spares their lives. But thirty days have passed since I was called to go to the king.” 12 When Esther’s words were reported to Mordecai, 13 he sent back this answer: “Do not think that because you are in the king’s house you alone of all the Jews will escape. 14 For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” 15 Then Esther sent this reply to Mordecai: 16 “Go, gather together all the Jews who are in Susa, and fast for me. Do not eat or drink for three days, night or day. I and my attendants will fast as you do. When this is done, I will go to the king, even though it is against the law. And if I perish, I perish.”
It seems, the king’s royal proclamation had not filtered through the palace. In many ways, Esther was quite insulated from the realities of life outside the palace. It seems, Esther was the last to know about Haman’s plan and less than eager to go into the king’s presence to beg for mercy for her people. Not only was there a law that made doing so worthy of death, but it was this kind of behavior that got Vashti deposed. If Xerxes had really made such a decree, how could she change his mind? Even if she could sway him, (Esther 8:8) no document written in the king’s name and sealed with his ring could be revoked. Mordecai’s command seemed like a suicide mission.
But Mordecai would not be deterred. So he let the cat out of the bag to her servant, Hathak. For quite some time, Mordecai and Esther had gone to great lengths to keep her ethnicity a secret. But under these dire circumstances, Mordecai plays the only card he’s got left. Esther, you’re a Jew. I know it. You know it. And some day, someone who doesn’t like you will come to know it. And you will lose your life, if you don’t do something now. Don’t you see what has happened? Don’t you think it could be possible that the reason you’ve become the queen is so that you might intercede in a moment such as this?
Something, or everything, Mordecai said struck a chord. Esther implores Mordecai to organize three days of fasting and praying before she goes to the king. She knows what could happen. But she goes to do what she knows to be right—even though she does not know how it will go.
And that is exactly where you and I live, isn’t it? Not in a Persian king’s palace, but in a time and place that shares much in common with Esther’s. Like Esther, our culture is, at best morally and spiritually wandering. Like Esther, we survey the world around us and see so much that is beyond our control. Where do we start? What can we do? Will anything we say or do make any real difference? Or is it all just going to make our lives more difficult, more complicated, and more painful?
It’s not hard to see why Esther didn’t want to speak up for her people. It was against the law, for one. Secondly, it went against her nature. Throughout the book of Esther she is portrayed as easy-to-get-along-with. Adaptable and compliant. Thirdly, she had noticed that it had been quite some time—thirty days—since she had even seen Xerxes. It went against her instincts. She suspected that she may have fallen out of favor with the king. And so she was reluctant to do what was right. And so, too, are we—when it goes against cultural norms, or against our nature, or against our instincts.
It is easy for us to want to try to keep our spiritual heritage a relative secret. To be silent when friends or neighbors or say things like: I just think it’s important to be a good person in this life. To leave a rebuke unspoken when we hear the news that our descendants are finally moving in with their significant other. Why is it when people attack your political principles, you cannot help but defend platforms and individuals whom you know do not always have your best interests at heart, but when someone slams the Scriptures or lays into the law of your God, you sit on your hands? There is a time and place to turn the other cheek, but why are we so much more apt to do so when our faith is being raked over the coals? Why do we spend hours watching cable news—when nearly nothing is happening—but still can’t find time to read the Good News? Why do we take the initiative to call to get some bill straightened out AND sit patiently on hold to talk to someone, but never show the same pep and perseverance for the people around us who are headed on the path to hell? Why do we, each year, examine our bodies, our homes, and our financial health and make plans to develop and improve those things, and ignore our spiritual needs? Why do we stay in the palaces we have fashioned for ourselves, instead of going to sinners in their misery and messes and walk with them as they learn to live a life worthy of Christ?
The root reason for all these surrenders, all these abdications of our Christian duties, is we are scared. We are scared of what might happen. We are scared we won’t know what to say. We are scared that the conversation won’t go well. We are scared that the person we need to rebuke is going to retaliate by airing out all our dirty laundry. We are scared that if we involve ourselves with people whose lives are a mess, people from afar might think we are are a mess. Or worse, our lives will become a mess. We are scared that if we start walking alongside someone who is taking spiritual baby steps, the process of spiritual discipling will be too demanding, too frustrating. We are scared that our attempts at sharing the Good News we will be rejected. So, like Esther, we prefer to sidestep the difficult, demanding, and distressing work of standing up for God’s Word and attending to God’s people.
And there are times, where God in his wisdom and mercy, sends a Mordecai. Someone who announces that we are a Christian in a moment when we’d prefer to keep that under wraps. Someone who sort of shames us into action. But wouldn’t it be better if it didn’t take that? Wouldn’t it be better if we saw situations that were morally bankrupt and we knew why we were there and what we were to do? Wouldn’t it be exciting to see God at work in places and circumstances that have been purposefully sterilized of any hint of Christianity?
Just like he did in Susa. Because what Mordecai believed to be true—based on God’s many promises—came to be. Relief and deliverance arose for God’s people. And it happened through the bold words and actions of One Individual, One who had been positioned and equipped to save God’s people from the schemes of their enemy. That is the story of Esther and the people of Israel. But it is also the story of Jesus and the people of God. Of course there are some key differences beyond their genders.
Esther was beautiful. It’s part of the reason she ascended to royalty. Jesus was not. Isaiah tells us (Is. 53:2) He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.
Esther was only potentially risking her royal rights and advantages and her life. That was frightening enough. Jesus forfeited the honor and respect, the power and glory of sitting at the right hand of the Father. Despite (Php. 2:6-7) being in very nature God, he made himself nothing by taking on the very nature of a servant.
And when Jesus appeared before a far lesser earthly power—Pontius Pilate—he did not beg for his life. Unlike Esther, Jesus did not have a king on his side who would step in and execute his enemies. Instead, a panicky Pilate did what was expedient, chose what was convenient, and allowed corruption to have its way. Pilate sat on his hands as long as he could. They he washed them in an attempt to feel better about his cowardice and handed Jesus over to be crucified. Though he was innocent in thought, word, and deed, he was treated like a despicable rebel. As he suffered, Jesus enemies gloated as he was hung on that cross. Opportunistic soldiers cast lots for his tunic, likely the only possession he had that was of any real value. His own people jeered and mocked him. Israelite leaders challenged him, if you really are the Son of God save yourself. Come down from the cross. But he refused. Not because he was scared. But because he was committed to bringing relief and deliverance to God’s people from this place of the skull. Here on the mount of death, Jesus paid the wages for the sins of the whole world. He suffered for history’s greatest crimes—those we know and those we will never know. As the Son of God suffered and died, lusty Lucifer licked his chops. He reveled as Jesus cried out for his Father and heard nothing. He rejoiced as the Son of God was numbered among criminals. It seemed, on that day before the Passover Sabbath, that there was no room for the moral or the upright, that good people are nothing more than helpless victims, that evil had triumphed over good.
But wait. There’s more that God was doing. The Lord refused to let his Holy One see decay. Relief and deliverance arose for God’s people. So God raised that Jesus, whom the people of Jerusalem crucified, from the dead and seated him at his own right hand, where there Jesus mediates on our behalf. Because Christ Jesus is alive, we have a King who has our back. He promises that he has made full atonement for our sins. He promises that he has given us the power to resist and reject temptation. He promises that no one and nothing can separate us from his love. He promises that he will be with us always in Word and in Sacrament and through the spiritual indwelling in our hearts, until he returns again in physical, bodily form to judge the living and the dead and to bring us to be with him in heaven for eternity. God is at work for our good in a world that has gone so wrong.
Just like he did in Susa. Because what Mordecai believed to be true—based on God’s many promises—came to be. Relief and deliverance arose for God’s people. And it happened through the one Mordecai suspected to be perfectly positioned to do that work: Esther. Though she had been a shrinking violet for most of her time in the palace, it is after this honest address, that she remember who she is and why. She is the Queen. And she has been raised to this life by her Lord for these times.
And so have you. You do not live in a palace in Susa. Actually, your life is better. Your life is filled with greater comforts and conveniences and means of communication than Esther could ever imagine. And you have the ear of a king greater than Xerxes, Christ Jesus, the King of kings.
Do you know how that King sees you? (1 Pt. 2:9) You are his chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. You are God’s royal priesthood. You have the ear of the King of kings, and you are called to serve your God in this world of darkness. At times the darkness is frightening. At times, when we see the darkness we wonder what difference this little light of mine could possibly make. But do not underestimate the work and will of your God! He has positioned you for the people around you. All the days ordained for you were written in God’s book before one of them came to be. He has timed your life to perfectly align with his wider will, his great plan of salvation. He has planted you in a time and place of such obvious ugliness, and gifted you with the knowledge and the message of your Beautiful Savior. To some we may be an aroma that brings death. To others, we are the pleasing aroma of Christ. But in all times and in all places we will go to our King and do his bidding, confident that even when we die, we live. Because God has secured relief and deliverance for us, his people. Amen.