When times are hard and confusing, it’s easy for a believer to feel out of place. Most of us have jobs and social circles with barely enough influence to sway a local school board race, much less move the hearts of world leaders as bombs fall. We would love to shake cities and stand before governors like Paul, but we’re more likely to have our name mispronounced at a PTA meeting. We are farmers, teachers, and grocery store clerks; what can we do in the face of war, disease, and a culture bent on screaming its way toward destruction?
In troubling times, it is helpful to turn to the Biblical story of Esther. Esther came to be in a day not so unlike ours. The Jews were threatened with annihilation; a man named Haman had deceived the king into making a law that would end the Jewish people. Through strange circumstances, Esther was in a position to help – a position that God had granted – but it was not a safe one. She was queen of the nation, but if she approached the king in the wrong manner, it could cost her life.
Thus, we read in Esther 4:10-11.
“Then Esther spoke to Hathach and commanded him to go to Mordecai and say, “All the king’s servants and the people of the king’s provinces know that if any man or woman goes to the king inside the inner court without being called, there is but one law—to be put to death, except the one to whom the king holds out the golden scepter so that he may live. But as for me, I have not been called to come in to the king these thirty days.”
Esther was scared. What will happen to me if I speak up? How can I make a difference when laws and enemies stand in my way? She may have been queen, but much like us, Esther felt helpless to change the circumstances. Esther’s relative, Mordecai, had an answer for Esther and it is one that speaks even to us many thousands of years later:
Est. 4:13-14. “Then Mordecai told them to reply to Esther, “Do not think to yourself that in the king’s palace you will escape any more than all the other Jews. For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:13-14)
It’s easy to see a threat in Mordecai’s words, but they were intended to encourage. God did not make a mistake by putting Esther into a troubling situation; in fact, God had made her for just a time as this. And, once she and the Jews had been saved by her courageous actions, it was easy to see that God was right.
But have you ever considered that Mordecai’s words applied to himself? Certainly, Esther was the one at the front and center, but it was Mordecai’s influence that spurred her on. Without Mordecai, Esther would never have approached the king, and many – if not most – of the Jewish people would have perished.
Perhaps we cannot all be Esther; we are not put into kingship or queendom in our lives. Most of our influence extends to the convenience store’s checkout line. But have we considered that God may have brought us to that checkout line for ‘such a time as this?’ We may never shake kingdoms, but perhaps we can shake individuals, inviting them into a kingdom that cannot be shaken. And it may just be, that we will spur on the next Esther, whose Godly stature and courageous action will shape the direction of an entire nation.
Stafford, Texas
Sometimes, we Christians can make prayer difficult. We read the Psalms or some of the great prayers of scripture, and beside these majestic compositions, our own prayers can feel inadequate; we may even feel as if we should not bother praying until we have something comparably worthy to say. We are, after all, going before the God of the universe with our petition; shouldn’t it be a grand and wonderful thing?
But is God concerned with the eloquence of our prayer? I think not. In fact, sometimes, the simplest prayer is the most powerful.
In Luke chapter 18, we read a parable told by Jesus:
“9 He also told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and treated others with contempt: 10 “Two men went up into the temple to pray, one a Pharisee and the other a tax collector. 11 The Pharisee, standing by himself, prayed[a] thus: ‘God, I thank you that I am not like other men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even like this tax collector. 12 I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get.’ 13 But the tax collector, standing far off, would not even lift up his eyes to heaven, but beat his breast, saying, ‘God, be merciful to me, a sinner!’ 14 I tell you, this man went down to his house justified, rather than the other. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, but the one who humbles himself will be exalted.”
By our standard, the Pharisee said a lot more than the tax collector. He used more words; he had more information – he was talking! But his prayer was all about himself and how great he was – in God’s eyes, he said nothing worthwhile. On the other hand, the tax collector says only one simple verse focused not on his greatness but God’s – and Jesus said that prayer was far more effective.
Long speech and well-thought-out, elegant wording can be beneficial when dealing with our human friends. After all, we are not inside each other’s heads; we need descriptions and explanations to understand what someone is saying. But scripture says God already knows what we need before we ask.
Matthew 6:7-8 “7 “And when you pray, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do, for they think that they will be heard for their many words. 8 Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him. “
And even when we do not know what we should pray for, the Spirit within us can send the needed words.
Romans 8:26-27 “26 Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. 27 And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God.”
Too many prayers have been left unsaid because the person praying did not feel they had the correct words or the right idea for what they needed to ask. But God longs to hear from us even in our simplest terms. Don’t keep yourself from conversing with your Father.
Forgiveness is hard. Forgiveness in a modern culture that demands a head for every offense and leaves little room for change and repentance is harder. “Once a sinner, always a sinner” seems to be the motto of the day. A tarnished name never seems to fade, no matter how much effort a person puts into renewal. Sadly, even among Christians, hearing words of judgment for past deeds is more common than forgiveness. We seem more eager to dredge up skeletons than help bury them beneath grace, despite all the many warnings in scripture that Christians are to be quick and eager to forgive.
Surprisingly enough, the early church had a similar problem. Saul, the man who would later come to be known as Paul, had a reputation among the believers in his early days: “3 As for Saul, he made havoc of the church, entering every house, and dragging off men and women, committing them to prison.” Acts 8:3.
But when Saul encountered Christ on the road to Damascus, like so many sinners who come to the cross, his whole world changed, and he repented his sin. He earnestly tried to repair the damage he had caused, even going so far as to try and join the church in Jerusalem to lend his considerable aid. But the church in Jerusalem would not have Saul – at least, not initially. The believers in the city knew who Saul was. Or, more accurately, the believers knew who Saul had been: “26 And when Saul had come to Jerusalem, he tried to join the disciples; but they were all afraid of him, and did not believe that he was a disciple.” Acts 9:26
Everybody remembered what Saul had done to the church. He was a persecutor of the faithful, responsible for many destructive acts against the body of Christ. In modern vernacular: his name was Mud. Despite giving himself to Christ, the Christians rejected Saul because of his past.
The story might have ended there, with Saul sent away, discouraged, feeling as if he could never truly atone for the sins of his past, but thankfully there was a disciple named Barnabas. Barnabas took Christ’s changing power seriously. The next verse in Acts 9 reads: “27 But Barnabas took him and brought him to the apostles. And he declared to them how he had seen the Lord on the road, and that He had spoken to him, and how he had preached boldly at Damascus in the name of Jesus.”
Barnabas looked at Saul’s past, all its sin and every vile deed, and instead of holding it against the new convert, chose to believe in the saving power of Christ. Barnabas gave Saul the same chance Christ had given Barnabas on the cross – the same chance each one of us receives when we repent of our sins.
The rest, of course, is history. Saul, now Paul, would end up writing much of the New Testament. His impact on the church is unrivaled in history – no one would dare to question the sincerity of the man’s repentance. Yet, it was a story that came so close to never being written, all because some wanted to hold Paul’s past against him.
The next time you’re tempted to judge someone’s present by their past, remind yourself of Saul’s path to God – and remember that we all walk under the shadow of God’s forgiveness. As Christ has given us a second chance, we must always be prepared to extend that same grace to others.
“12 Put on then, as God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, 13 bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.” Colossians 3:12-13
By Seth Maus
The story of Hannah in 1st Samuel is one of the most powerful examples of parental love in scripture. Hannah was barren and unable to have children; a source of great grief for her. When we first meet her in chapter one of 1st Samuel, we find Hannah pleading with God to give her a son. And so great is her desire, she vows that, should God bless her with a boy, she will devote him forever to the service of the Lord. That is a solemn prayer, the kind a desperate person may say idly in an hour of sorrow, yet not really mean when the sadness has passed.
But Hannah meant every word. When God does answer her and Hannah conceives Samuel, the vow is kept, and as soon as Samuel is weaned, he is brought to the temple to begin his service. Samuel, of course, is a major character in the history of Israel – his oversight guides the forming of the kingdom, the coronation of Saul (and removal of that crown), and eventually, the establishment of David and his dynasty. From a storytelling perspective, Samuel is the important character, so the tale should shift from Hannah to her son as soon as he is born.
However, the story doesn’t shift – not quite yet. Hannah still has a part – a significant part, though easily overlooked. In chapter two of 1st Samuel, after Hannah has sung a wonderful song of thankfulness to God, we read this:
“18 Samuel was ministering before the LORD, a boy clothed with a linen ephod. 19 And his mother used to make for him a little robe and take it to him each year when she went up with her husband to offer the yearly sacrifice.” (1 Samuel 2:18-19) It is such a small thing, this brief mention of an act of love by a mother, yet God considered it important enough to remain part of scripture. Why?
Perhaps God wanted us to consider the cost of Hannah’s vow. How much grief do you think those little robes caused her? How heavy was her heart as she handed those robes to her son, whom she saw but once a year? How many tears were shed as she waved goodbye when they left the temple? The weight of her vow must have been unbearably heavy, yet Hannah continued bringing her son this small show of love and support every year, bringing this little robe.
But perhaps God wants us to consider not only the cost but the wonderful reward of Hannah’s commitment. How encouraged must young Samuel have been, seeing his mother each year, little robe in hand? This little boy, who one day would have two whole Biblical books named after him, was being wrapped not merely in cloth but in love. And more, those little robes confirmed to Samuel that he belonged to God, and mom would always support that calling. With a committed mother behind him, Samuel would become a household name in Israel; more importantly, Samuel would become a mighty vessel for God to use.
Not all of us within the church are blessed to be parents in a natural sense, but I think every Christian can take up Hannah’s spirit. Churches worldwide are full of children who want to serve God and are called to be part of God’s family. Yet, often, they are pushed aside because of their age. We should be different. We, like Hannah, should remind those children that they belong to God and supply them with the little robes they need.
In his letter to the Philippians, Paul penned a line that has adorned an uncountable number of Christian trinkets in the millennia since: “But whatever gain I had, I counted as loss for the sake of Christ. Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.“ (Philippians 3:7-8a). This scripture is often quoted to show a Christian’s willingness to give up material possessions to serve Christ. That’s a noble sentiment, one we all should strive to emulate… but is that all Paul meant with this text?
In the lead-up to the quote above, Paul lays out a lesser-known but critical section of scripture. He says:
“For we are the circumcision, who worship by the Spirit of God and glory in Christ Jesus and put no confidence in the flesh— though I myself have reason for confidence in the flesh also. If anyone else thinks he has reason for confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; as to the law, a Pharisee; as to zeal, a persecutor of the church; as to righteousness under the law, blameless.” (Philippians 3:3-6).
Interestingly, Paul makes no mention of material goods (though I suspect he would be entirely on board with the idea of giving up physical comforts for Christ’s sake). Instead, Paul speaks about something far harder for humans to give up: ourselves.
Paul spent his early life as a devout Jew – far more zealous than most Christians who grew up in the church. While it’s unclear how high up in the religious order Paul was at the time of his conversion, he was doubtless destined to be a future leader of Israel, someone who would have the admiration and respect of an entire nation. His past was impeccable, his future was bright, and his character was pristine: he had followed the law and performed all the works – if anyone deserved eternal life (from a human perspective), it was him. Yet, Paul gave it all up. He gave up confidence in his works, he gave up the prestige of power, and he gave up the adoration of his people, all to immerse in the true life of Christ. Paul gave up himself.
With this in mind, we should turn the focus back to us: what have we given up for Christ? Do we slap Philippians 3:7 on our wall as a pretty picture and convince ourselves we fulfill it when we skip our morning coffee so we can give the congregation an extra couple of dollars that week? Or have we truly given up ourselves? Have we become willing to suffer embarrassment, scorn, and even hatred for the glory of Christ? Have we set aside our strength to lean wholly on his, trusting not our reputation or respectability but His power to bring us to life? I suspect we all (myself included) can lower ourselves a little further. Take heart that the reward is well worth the cost.
For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead. (Philippians 3:8b-11)
