Esther 4
There is a verse from this chapter that has stuck with me ever since I read it for the first time: "And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?" (vs 14) A couple days ago, I confessed that I no longer believe in coincidences, and it seems obvious to me that Mordecai didn’t believe in coincidences either. He knew that someone else was in charge of the events that had led Esther to be in the right place at the right time.
Esther 3
My, my. What a startling portrait of insecurity in the third chapter of Esther: "When Haman saw that Mordecai would not kneel down or pay him honor, he was enraged. Yet having learned who Mordecai’s people were, he scorned the idea of killing only Mordecai. Instead Haman looked for a way to destroy all Mordecai’s people, the Jews, throughout the whole kingdom of Xerxes." (vs 5-6)
Esther 2
Coincidence is God’s way of remaining anonymous. —Albert Einstein
I recently saw that quote on a church’s outdoor marquee, and I must say that I agree. In fact, I don’t even believe in coincidences anymore. I think all the details of our lives—even the nitty gritty ones—are being woven and spun by God into this grand tapestry. I don’t think He leaves anything to chance. Does He leave things to choice? Yes. But to chance? No. At least I don’t think so.
Photo © Unsplash/Anton Darius | @theSollers
How is it
that in our
overworked
underpaid
hyperstressed
neverhushed
go go go go
culture
we aren't
running full tilt
to the God
whose covenant sign
is rest
the God
whose binding contract
stipulates that
we were
first and foremost
created to know
peace?
Esther 1
For all the times I’ve read the book of Esther, I never remembered that it began this way—with an egotistical king and his non-compliant wife. King Xerxes had gone on what could kindly be described as an ego binge: "For a full 180 days he displayed the vast wealth of his kingdom and the splendor and glory of his majesty. When these days were over, the king gave a banquet, lasting seven days, in the enclosed garden of the king’s palace, for all the people from the least to the greatest who were in the citadel of Susa." (vs 4-5)
Nehemiah 13
For Nehemiah, this must have been a shocking end to his story. He had devoted his life to overseeing the rebuilding of the Jerusalem walls and ushering in a new era of spiritual revival for the Israelites. The dramatic rebuilding of the wall—which had survived numerous attacks and intended detours by political enemies—had been topped off by a spiritual celebration in the temple, culminating in a signed covenant made by the people.
Nehemiah 12
When all the people came together to dedicate the temple, it was a day of great pomp and celebration. There was feasting and music, with dozens of instruments and two huge choirs. Nehemiah says the "sound of rejoicing in Jerusalem could be heard far away." (vs 43) When these Israelites threw a party, they apparently made sure everyone knew about it!
Nehemiah 11
Once the temple and the walls had been rebuilt, Jerusalem was in need of a population. But it seems like there weren’t too many people eager to live there. The beginning of chapter 11 tells us how the city was settled: "Now the leaders of the people settled in Jerusalem. The rest of the people cast lots to bring one out of every ten of them to live in Jerusalem, the holy city, while the remaining nine were to stay in their own towns. The people commended all who volunteered to live in Jerusalem." (vs 1-2)
Photo © Unsplash/Sharon McCutcheon
Imagine having to pay for your life
the way you pay for your heat
the way you buy your electricity
the way you purchase water and sewer.
Perhaps if we received
a monthly bill for
"Life-Services Rendered"
breath and
blood and
heart beating and
neurons firing and
general suspension of the return-to-dust clause
we would remember that
life is a utility we can't generate
and be immune to
the otherwise-all-pervasive plague
of self-sufficiency.
Nehemiah 10
So, the people had returned from exile. They had rebuilt the temple and the Jerusalem wall. They had heard the law proclaimed from the temple steps and been appalled that they had fallen so far from God’s ideal. They resolved to do better. And so they entered into a covenant, a signed contract with God. They promised to obey everything God had asked them to do:
Nehemiah 9
Yes, before you get too worked up, observe the spelling of the word "but" in the title. It’s a part of speech, not a part of the body! And it illustrates something wonderful about God—that He is always eager to give us another chance and that He is always willing to forgive, forget, and move on.
In this chapter, as the Israelite exiles recounted the history of God and their nation, there were a lot of buts flying around:
Nehemiah 8
Ah, the law. The one topic that is the time-honored whipping boy of Christianity. Is the law still in effect? Was it nailed to the cross? Done away with? Is there a difference between law and grace? And what does "law" mean? Are we talking about the Ten Commandments? The Mosaic Law? The Law of Love as defined by Jesus in Matthew 22:36-40?
Nehemiah 6
I was recently engaged in a conversation about whether God really answers our prayers. A question had come up regarding the passage where Jesus said, "Truly I tell you, if anyone says to this mountain, 'Go, throw yourself into the sea,' and does not doubt in their heart but believes that what they say will happen, it will be done for them. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours." (Mk 11:23-24) and we were discussing the merits of "name it and claim it" theology.
In the end,
what You will have of me is
all
or
nothing.
There is no in-between.
Either I will be consecrated
head to toe,
my entire being
holy ground,
or
I will be a vast, open
wasteland—
a demonic haunt.
There is no in-between.
For You
(the indwelling universe-God)
will not be relegated to
a shelf
a building or
a weekly (better-not-be-longer-than-an-hour) visit.
You will either dwell
in the midst
or
You will be completely
banished from the land.
There is no in-between.
You are uninterested
in negotiation
or compromise.
Come, then,
and take no prisoners—
except me, that is.
Captivate me
head to toe
and all that's
in-between.
Come, Divine Intruder:
Make me
holy ground.
Nehemiah 5
It is an interesting trend in our culture that we value rights over responsibilities. Just ask yourself how often you hear language such as "It’s my right!" as opposed to "That’s my responsibility." In fact, we even like to use the smokescreen of "rights" to shirk responsibility. But this is the opposite of what God is like. He values responsibilities over rights.
Nehemiah 4
Well, some people just didn’t want that Jerusalem wall rebuilt! "When Sanballat, Tobiah, the Arabs, the Ammonites and the people of Ashdod heard that the repairs to Jerusalem’s walls had gone ahead and that the gaps were being closed, they were very angry." (vs 7) First, they had tried to intimidate the people with insults and threats. When that didn’t stop the work, they plotted to attack the people who were rebuilding the wall.
Nehemiah 3
Several times in our journey so far through the Old Testament, we have witnessed God’s love of community. Since love is relational, it is always seeking community. Of course, it’s important to keep in mind that the type of community God wants is only found in the mutual unity of a group of individuals. (These days, when some think of community, they tend to think of a community as a single organism that is more important than an individual. But true community begins with the individual.)
Nehemiah 2
This chapter, for me, held another stunning example of what God is like, as observed in the actions of His ambassador Nehemiah. After hearing about the state of things in Jerusalem, Nehemiah had prayed to God that restoration would come to that great Israelite city. He determined that, at some time, he would have the opportunity to speak to the king about what was on his heart.
Nehemiah 1
When I was growing up, Bette Midler’s song From a Distance was popular on the radio. Perhaps you remember the last line of the chorus: God is watching us from a distance. I think this is how a lot of people see God—as some sort of distant, unengaged Deity who doesn’t really care about the day-to-day lives of His creatures. He may be up there, and He may be running things, but He certainly doesn’t have time for the "little people."
