Great literature is filled with great reversals. The Book of Esther is, as we have seen, similarly built around a great reversal of fortunes. Whether Esther is a tragedy or a comedy depends on one’s perspective. For Haman and his allies, it is a great tragedy, as all of their schemes to triumph over the hated Jews come to nothing. For Esther, Mordecai, and the community of God’s people, however, it is a comedy in every sense, with the transformation from imminent disaster to a situation where everyone may live happily ever after and laugh at earlier fears.

This theme of reversal becomes explicit in the very first verse of Esther 9. Finally, the day of decision for the Jewish community in the Persian Empire had dawned on the thirteenth of Adar. The conflicting edicts of Haman and Mordecai against and in favor of God’s people were now put into play, raising the question of which edict would win the day. The writer doesn’t leave us in suspense for long. Those who had hoped to dominate and destroy the Jews were themselves destroyed: a reversal has been brought about in the fortunes of God’s people. The end of the story shows those who had been powerless, the Jews, in complete power, dominant over their enemies on the very day when their enemies had hoped to be dominant over them. After this verse, the rest of the book is wrap-up.

That it is wrap-up, however, doesn’t mean that it is unimportant. The lengthy ending to the story shows us three things: it describes the reversal in detail (vv. 9-16), it shows how the reversal is to be celebrated in perpetuity (vv. 17-32), and then, in a concluding postscript (10:1-3), it invites us to reconsider the reversal’s ultimate impact.

First, we have the outworking of the reversal described in detail (vv. 2-10). Israel’s victory was nothing short of comprehensive, as the extensive detail shows. All Persian officials and royal bureaucracy supported the Jews out of the fear of Mordecai. His position ensured the success of his edict, rather than that of the disgraced and deposed Haman. As a result, the Jews were free to slaughter and destroy all their enemies, just as their enemies had planned to do to them. The large number slain within the acropolis itself highlights the extent of the opposition to the Jews in positions of influence and power. Included in the slaughter were all ten of Haman’s sons, whose importance is highlighted by listing each and every one of their names. The holy war against this Agagite had been carried through effectively, unlike King Saul’s half-hearted assault on his ancestor (1 Sam. 15).

Nor was a single day enough for a victory of this magnitude. When the information of the scale of the slaughter in his capital came to Ahasuerus, he seemed more impressed than perturbed by the news (vv. 11-12). In fact, the king was so impressed that he repeated, unsolicited, his offer to Esther to grant her petition and her request. Whatever she wanted would be given to her – and what she wanted was not a fur coat or a diamond, but more time for pressing the destruction of those who had organized themselves against the people of God. Esther requested one more day for the Jews to carry out the edict, and for the sons of Haman to receive dishonor as well as death (vv. 13-14).

What Esther was doing was pressing through toward completion the practice of holy war against the self-declared enemies of God. That this was her understanding of what was going on is made abundantly clear by the refrain repeated at the end of verse 15. Even though Mordecai’s edict had permitted the taking of plunder, which was merely normal practice in warfare, the Jews refrained from enriching themselves through this conflict because it was a holy war, so the spoils were not theirs to take. The same reserve was shown by the Jews in the countryside around the empire, who likewise took part in the war against God’s enemies but kept themselves from the spoil (v. 16). The end result that flowed from the events initially set in motion by Haman’s edict was that God’s enemies were comprehensively defeated throughout the empire. Instead of being destroyed, as Haman intended, God’s people received rest from those who hated them. The world was indeed turned upside down.

It was not enough to win the victory, however; the victory also had to be celebrated. Sometimes in the closing moments of a sporting event, the commentator will say, “It’s all over but the shouting.” The saying means that the action on the field of play is effectively finished; all that remains as the clock winds down is the celebration in the stands. The shouting is also an important part of the victory in holy war. The shouting provides the opportunity to give praise where praise is due, and go on record with thankfulness to God for victory won and rest received.

There have been repeated festivals of thanksgiving that provide the context and background against which to read the story of the establishment of Purim (vv. 17-19). Seen against the backdrop of the other Old Testament festivals, the horizonal aspects of the festival of Purim are striking. It was established as an ordinance by edicts from Esther and Mordecai, not from God (vv. 20-22, 29-32). In the festival of Purim, the Jews, both far and near, bound themselves to feast, rejoice, and give presents to one another and gifts to the poor. This celebration was to endure forever, rather like the laws of the Medes and the Persians, which never pass away. What the people were to remember was Haman’s plot and the king’s intervention to deliver them (vv. 23-28).

The edict to celebrate the feast of Purim forever is not the end of the story though. Tacked on the end, rather awkwardly, is the little postscript of 10:1-3. What are these verses doing there? How do they round out the story? They serve to put into perspective the great reversal of the Book of Esther by showing us how much remained unchanged after all. The postscript starts out with the notice that King Ahasuerus imposed tribute throughout the empire, to its most distant shores. Mordecai the Jew and Eshter might now be the ones writing the edicts in Haman’s place but Ahasuerus was still king. His own personal interests remained paramount, no matter the cost to his loyal subjects.

The feast of Purim, when properly understood, is more than just a reminder to God’s people of His ability to intervene decisively even while remaining hidden to all but the eye of faith. It also pointed beyond itself to show us the need for a greater deliverance yet to come. The events celebrated by Esther’s generation and their descendants provided a foreshadowing within history of the judgment of the wicked and the deliverance of God’s people, but neither of these was comprehensively accomplished.

What we have not yet seen in Esther’s day, then, is the complete fulfillment of the ancient prophecy in Isaiah 57:19-21. In the Book of Esther, we see the tossing sea temporarily driven back through God’s grace and providence, but not yet finally stilled. That awaited the coming of One greater even than Mordecai, One who would be Prince of Peace, for whom Isaiah looked. This coming One would still the raging sea of wickedness once and for all, and would proclaim full and final peace to those who were far away and peace to those who were near (see Eph. 2:17).

Yet He did so not by waging comprehensive holy war on the historic enemies of God’s people, the Gentiles, and destroying them utterly, but rather by destroying the ancient enmity between them and God (Eph 2:14). He came not as a mighty warrior but as the Prince of Peace. In Christ, former Amalekites and Jews are now brought together into glorious peace that flows to the one new people of God. On the cross Jesus fully bore God’s curse upon our sin. Why? So that we might receive peace through His righteousness and have rest from all our guilt and sin and access into the life-giving presence of God.

What a difference understanding our forgiveness in Christ makes in our lives. Now we have peace with God. We have a peace that transcends any peace this world had to offer because it rests not on a Mordecai to plead our case before a king like Ahasuerus, but on Jesus, who brings us constantly into the presence of the King of kings. Jesus is the One who seeks our good and speaks peace to us as His seed (see Esth. 10:3).

Esther 9:1-10:3 Study Questions:

How does verse 1 summarize this chapter, as well as the entire book of Esther? In what ways does this reversal show us the sovereignty and character of God?

What do you notice about this victory of the Jews as it is described for us (vv. 2-10)? What details does the narrator choose to include, and why might they be significant?

How does King Ahasuerus respond to what is going on in his kingdom (v. 12)? What is his response to Queen Esther? How does she seize the opportunity of the moment?

In what way is this great victory celebrated and commemorated (vv. 17-19; 29-32)? Who, establishes this feast? How is this different from the way other Old Testament feasts and celebrations were initially established?

As the Book of Esther concludes, what positive results for the people of God are specifically noted (10:1-3)? What are the indications, in chapter 10, that His people have not yet received ultimate freedom and deliverance from their enemies? How does the ending of the Book of Esther point us toward the need for a greater King and Redeemer?

The “holy war” that the Jewish people wage against their enemies in Esther 9 serves as a vivid picture of God’s fierce judgment against His enemies. How must we apply this passage to the fact that we, in our sins, are naturally “enemies” of God? How must this passage drive us toward the cross – and to the need for God’s mercy and grace through Jesus?

The biblical soap opera, The Days of Esther’s life, is not yet at its conclusion. Many issues have been resolved already. The villainous Haman has met his comeuppance – literally, with the aid of his seventy-five-foot pole. Esther and Mordecai also received their reward at the beginning of chapter 8, in the shape of Haman’s confiscated estate and a promotion for Mordecai (vv. 1-2). However, Haman’s edict to exterminate the Jews had not yet been reversed: it was still hanging over their heads. Perhaps it would yet turn out that the laws of the Medes and the Persians really couldn’t be changed, and all of Esther’s efforts would have been wasted. Much still hangs in the balance at this point in the story.

King Ahasuerus may have thought that everything had been taken care of with the disposal of Haman, but in fact it hadn’t. So, Queen Esther had to go once more before the king to plead for her people’s lives. This time cool, calculating strategy was abandoned as Esther threw herself down in front of the king, weeping and pleading with him to make Haman’s evil plot go away (v. 3). Before, Esther had retained her royal dignity, always appearing as the stately queen before the king, now she threw herself down like a common beggar, crying and asking desperately for mercy for her people.

Once again, as in chapter 5, the king stretched out his scepter to Esther and received her. This time her request was immediately delivered, without manipulative games. Her words were still carefully chosen, however (vv. 4-6). King Ahasuerus’s immediate response was less than satisfactory, however (v. 7). The king said, in effect, “Look, I gave you all this money and killed your enemy for scheming against your people. What more could you possibly want?” Ahasuerus assumed that Esther was just like him: concerned only about herself and her interests. But even though Esther had once concealed her identity because her only thought was to protect herself, now that she had identified with her people, she had a new perspective that stretched beyond her own narrow self-interests. Salvation for herself was not enough if it came without salvation for her people.

Seeing that his initial answer was not exactly what Esther was looking for, Ahasuerus went on to tell her that she and Mordecai could write whatever they wanted in the king’s name and seal it with the king’s signet ring, because, after all, the king’s edicts could not be revoked (v. 8). So, King Ahasuerus could not undo his former edict because it was irrevocable, but he had no problem with Mordecai and Esther writing a contradictory edict, which would then also become irrevocable.

Mordecai had now been granted the power that Haman earlier possessed so that he could counteract Haman’s edict. He didn’t waste any time, but immediately sent out an edict of his own to the 127 provinces of the empire (vv. 9-14). Mordecai’s language deliberately echoed that of the original edict in order to highlight their parallel nature. The main difference is that these messages were not only committed to couriers, but to couriers riding on specially-bred fast horses; the messages must get through in time, even to the most distant parts of the empire.

Once the edict had gone out, so too did Mordecai, leaving the king’s presence dressed in royal splendor (v. 15). Whereas after the issuing of the first edict he went clothed in sackcloth and ashes, unable even to go in before the king, now after the second edict he emerged from the presence of the king clothed in glory. Nor was this merely a temporary glory of the kind he received in chapter 6, as a reward for his previously unrewarded faithful service. Now the attire was Mordecai’s by right as second only to the king. He had become a walking work of the empire’s art, clothed with a richness that paralleled the decorations at Ahasuerus’s great feast back in chapter 1.

The most poignant transformation of all, however, is surely the concluding note of chapter 8 (v. 17). No sooner had Esther conquered her fear and revealed her true identity with respect to her Jewishness than many of the pagans around her apparently chose to pretend to be Jewish, motivated by precisely the same type of fear. Some may indeed have been genuinely converted, motivated to join God’s people by the fear of the Lord. But others were motivated more by their fear of the Jews.

So far though, we have not addressed the fundamental moral question that the passage raises in the minds of many readers. It is this: “Was Mordecai right to issue an edict that permitted the Jews not just to defend themselves against their enemies, but to carry the battle to them, executing not only combatants but their women and children too?” Does this Scripture suggest that genocide is permissible and right when carried out by the Jews and reprehensible only when carried out by their enemies? It seems as if there is a moral double-standard here.

In order to understand these events, we need to see that what Mordecai was authorizing in his edict was a form of holy war. Haman’s edict against the Jews was not merely a matter of personal animosity; it was an expression of the age-old enmity between the Amalekites and God’s people. That connection is underlined for us twice in this text by the designation of Haman as the Agagite, the descendant of King Agag, who was the king of the Amalekites in the time of Saul (1 Sam. 15). Even in Saul’s time, the conflict between the Israelites and the Agagites had been a long-standing enmity (Ex. 17:14-16). King Saul’s attack on Agag in 1 Samuel 15 was part of that ongoing war between God’s people and His enemies, the Amalekites, rather than a personal vendetta. Saul failed to carry it through completely, a failure that led to the present difficulties of God’s people.

Now Mordecai planned to finish what his ancient kinsman had left incomplete. His edict was a continuation of that same ongoing struggle, of holy war. That is why even though Mordecai’s edict, in line with Haman’s, gave the Jews the right to plunder their defeated enemies, the text makes it clear that they refrained from doing so (Esth. 9:10, 15-16). This was holy war, and therefore the spoils were not theirs to take.

Yet holy war was not a universal practice in the Bible, not even throughout the Old Testament. It is distinctively part of the Mosaic era of redemptive history. Jesus rebuked James and John for their desire to call down fire from heaven on the Samaritan village that would not welcome Jesus (Luke 9:54-55). He taught them and us in no uncertain terms that this kind of holy war is not part of our calling as Christians. We are not engaged in an evangelical jihad in which we take up the sword and tell our non-Christian neighbors to convert or die.

It is important that we see why we are not called to this kind of holy war. It is not because holy war was somehow wrong in its original historical context, or was a sub-Christian procedure, unworthy of the followers of Christ. We have not abandoned holy war simply because we have become modern people and have grown more civilized. Rather, we have abandoned holy war in its Old Testament form because we live in a different era in the history of redemption. We live in the era of the outpouring of grace, in which we fight with spiritual weapons to bring the gospel to the nations, defeating God’s enemies by seeing them graciously transformed into His friends. Now we fight with the sword of the Spirit, the Word of God, which instead of turning live foes into dead corpse can transform dead sinners into live saints. Now we wrestle in prayer, seeking God’s enlivening work in the hearts and souls of our friends and neighbors.

What gives urgency to our task, though, is the fact that God’s nature hasn’t changed and His edict of death against rebellious sinners still stands. All men and women, young and old, must ultimately bow the knee before Christ or be eternally damned. There is no middle ground: we are either part of the Lord’s people or among His enemies, and the wrong allegiance will be eternally fatal.

God’s judgment can still be escaped. The message is clear: there is a way out of judgment through identification with God’s people. How can that be, though, given that God’s own people are themselves as guilty of rebellion and sin as those who are not God’s people? Who will deliver us from the edict of death that still stands against us in the heavenly court? What we need is an Esther of our own, someone who will put aside personal interests and safety and risk dignity, honor, even life itself, in order to plead our case before God, the Great King. Such a mediator is ours in Jesus Christ.

Esther 8:1-17 Study Questions:

How do the people of God continue to receive favor from King Ahasuerus as the chapter begins (vv. 1-2)? In what ways might we understand even this as the fulfillment of God’s promises to His people?

Describe Esther’s approach, tone, and strategy as She makes this second appeal to the king (vv. 3-6). How is this different from her carefully planned first appeal? Why might this be?

How does King Ahasuerus seem to initially respond to Esther’s request (v. 7)? What might he be implying to her about what he has already done for Mordecai and her?

While the edict prepared by Haman is not exactly overturned, a second edict is quickly circulated throughout the kingdom (vv. 9-14). What is the context of this edict? Why is it so significant for the Jewish people throughout the kingdom?

Queen Esther had a secret – her Jewishness – which she kept under wraps ever since she was first taken into the royal harem back in chapter 2. She had followed Mordecai’s advice to hide her ethnicity so faithfully, even when elevated to the level of queen, that five years later no one knew who her people were or her connection to Mordecai. To hide her nationality that successfully while living so intimately among pagans, she must have broken virtually every law in the books of Moses. She certainly couldn’t have observed the laws of ritual cleanliness, or of kosher food, or of special times and seasons of thanksgiving and fasting. She couldn’t even have prayed to God publicly. She blended in completely with the pagan colors of the empire.

Now it was time for Esther to come out of the closet. Haman’s edict threatened the whole Jewish community and, for the sake of her people, she had agreed to go before the king to intercede with him for their lives. That was going to be a tricky proposition, for King Ahasuerus was a dangerously unstable individual. It was all the trickier for Esther to intercede on behalf of the Jews since the edict she needed to have revoked had been put forward by Haman, who next to the king was the most powerful man in the empire. It was signed by him in the king’s name and stood to benefit the royal treasury to the tune of half a year’s taxes for the empire.

This was not simply “Mission Difficult”; it was truly “Mission Impossible.” All Esther had to offer in exchange was a pretty face – and behind it, a smart brain that had been working overtime. Thus, ever since she had agreed to intercede for her people back in chapter 4, she had been pursuing an intricate strategy with the king, inviting him and Haman to banquet after banquet. By almost revealing her request and then backing off, she persuaded the king three times to commit publicly in advance, to give her whatever she wished, up to half of his kingdom.

Finally, the time had come to reveal all. So, this time, when the king asked her what she wanted, Esther was ready to speak (vv. 1-4). Esther’s words were carefully chosen as her strategy had been. After the usual court niceties, she asked for a twofold favor to match the king’s twofold offer. What she wanted for her gift was the sparing of her life and the lives of her people.

The queen’s argument hit home. The king’s anger was stirred and he responded with another double-barreled question: “Who is he, and where is he, who has dared to do this?” (v. 5). Esther focused the king’s anger on the prime mover behind the edict, saying simply, “A foe and enemy! This wicked Haman!” (v. 6). Esther described Haman simply as “an enemy” because his offense before Ahasuerus was not really his enmity to the Jews, but only the fact that his edict had (unintentionally) threatened the king’s favorite wife.

Haman was appalled by this turn of events, shocked into silence, “terrified before the king and the queen” (v. 6). He had been completely out-smarted by Esther’s cunning strategy, and he could see that the king’s fierce anger had been aroused against him. Meanwhile, the king stalked out into his garden (v. 7). Already as the king went out, Haman could see that Ahasuerus had determined to do him harm. The king was unlikely to lose sleep over Haman’s fate. What was troubling the king was more likely the issue of his own reputation. He had authorized Haman’s edict, and his royal seal had ratified it. So how could he now, without losing face, punish Haman for promulgating a decree that he had approved personally?

When Ahasuerus returned to the banquet hall, he found that Haman had neatly solved his problem for him (v. 8). During the king’s absence, Haman had tried to beg for his life from Esther. With Haman falling down on Esther’s couch gave the king precisely the excuse he needed to eliminate Haman without making any embarrassing public reference to the edict (v. 8). Ironically, the one who wanted to kill a Jew for not falling down before him was ultimately executed on a charge of falling down inappropriately before a Jew! And then came the cruelest irony of all (vv. 9-10), Haman was taken out and his body was impaled on the massive pole that he himself had built just twenty-four hours before to execute Mordecai. What a difference a day makes!

With that, the king’s fury abated. Game over. Issue resolved. Except that from Esther’s perspective, it was far from over. Even though Haman personally had been dealt with, his edict still remained out there, like a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode and destroy the Jews. Esther herself might be safe, guarded within the king’s palace, but that wasn’t what she had gone through this whole routine to achieve. At this point, she must still have wondered if she would be able to achieve her goal of rescuing her people.

In this chapter, we see the interplay between human responsibility and divine sovereignty. Esther’s intricate plan was a necessary part of the process of bringing Haman to justice, a plan that required a combination of subtlety, boldness, and strength to carry it through. Yet Esther’s plan by itself was not what turned around the fortunes of God’s people. The writer of the story has shown us this by making the king’s sleepless night the hinge on which the whole story turns. Prior to that point at the beginning of chapter 6, the fortunes of the Jews were heading steadily downhill.

The key event thus had nothing to do with Esther or Mordecai, but instead was a seemingly insignificant detail in which the hidden hand of providence may be discerned – though only with careful hindsight. Isn’t that so often how it is in life? The intricate plans we lay can never come to fruition without God’s providential blessing upon them. As Psalm 127:1 puts it, “Unless the Lord builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.” God’s sovereign act is the turning point, but God works through the faithful efforts of His people, just as much as through remarkable providences.

The Bible sets before us the goal of the balance of prayer plus action, of leaning on Christ and leading people to Christ, of resting in the Lord and walking with Him. Either one on its own is inadequate. Both together are the goal. The truly wonderful part of God’s plan, though, is that even when we get the balance wrong, He will still accomplish His holy will. Esther is the perfect example. Where is her balance? Would we say that she has a model prayer life? If she did, it is surprising that the biblical narrator has not shown us this, as we see so prominently in men like Daniel and Nehemiah. On the contrary, in chapter 4 we saw the Jewish community, among whom Eshter was raised, fasting and moaning, but there is no word of them crying out to God. They may have gone through the religious motions, but there is no evidence of much true dependence on God. Yet God still delivered them, in spite of their inadequate theology. God chose to deliver His people through Esther’s activity, in spite of the absence of any explicit evidence of her prayerful dependence on Him.

Esther 7:1-10 Study Questions:

What does King Ahasuerus again affirm in verse 2? How does this continue to build Esther’s confidence and credibility as she prepares to make her request?

How does Esther describe the plot of Haman against the Jews (vv. 3-4)? What do you notice about the words she chooses? What does she choose not to include? In what way does Esther climactically call out Haman (v. 6)? What is Haman’s immediate response?

Why might King Ahasuerus have walked out to the garden (v. 7)? How does Haman ultimately seal his fate (v. 8)? Does King Ahasuerus really believe that Haman has attempted to assault Queen Esther?

What surprising and ironic reversal occurs as this chapter concludes (v. 10)? How is this a picture of the ironic reversal of the gospel and the cross of Jesus Christ? What question still remains (and whose lives hang in the balance) as this chapter ends?

For years, Esther had kept her Jewish identity hidden in the midst of the Pagan, Persian empire. Are there ways in which you hide your identity in Christ? How might God be calling you to reveal more boldly your love for Jesus and your commitment to His Word?

In the Bible, we are never simply speaking humanly. Even in a book like Esther, where God’s name is never mentioned and the characters in the story (including His own people) do their best to ignore His existence, He refuses to be written out of the script. Between the lines and behind the scenes, out of focus and incognito, the Lord continued to work to accomplish all His holy will. Esther 6 is a perfect case study in God’s way of working all things together for the good of His people, those whom He has called according to His purpose (see Rom. 8:28).

It all started with the king being unable to sleep (v. 1). The Bible gives no apparent reason for Ahasuerus’s insomnia. There seems to be reason for it, except God’s sovereign purpose to deliver His people. God’s sovereignty didn’t end with keeping the king awake. He also directed His choice of alternative activities for the night. In the absence of television, an insomniac like Ahasuerus had no lack of potential entertainments: food, drink, dancing girls…not to mention an enormous harem; all kind of pleasures waited at his disposal. Yet he chose instead to listen to a reading from government records the chronicles of his reign (v. 1). If anything would end Ahasuerus back to sleep, it was surely a monotone reading of his own life history!

In the midst of the reading, however, Ahasuerus found himself jolted wide awake. The scribe had come to the part where Mordecai had saved his life by revealing a plot against his life (v. 2). It made the king wonder: “What honor or distinction has been bestowed on Mordecai for this?” (v. 3). Persian kings were famous for their diligence in rewarding those who assisted them. The reply he received from his young attendants was shocking: “Nothing has been done for him” (v. 3).

We can almost picture the king leaping out of bed impulsively – everything Ahasuerus did was impulsive – and striding out of the royal bedchamber in dawn’s early light, trailing servants behind him. For all his impulsiveness, the king is helpless without his advisors. So, he asks his servants, “Who is in the court?” (v. 4). In other words, which of my counselors is around to tell me what to do? Normally at this time in the morning there well have been no one in the courtyard. But divine providence had been moving the other pieces into place as well, and Haman was in the courtyard, early though it was (vv. 4-5).

Haman had come for an entirely different purpose, intending to speak to the king about hanging Mordecai on his spike so that he could enjoy the rest of the day. Thus, he probably thought it a lucky moment when he was called in to see the king so early; for unlike Esther, he wasn’t about to risk his life by appearing unsummoned before Ahasuerus. As events would prove, it wasn’t a lucky moment at all, but rather a providential moment, and Providence had something far different in mind for him than Haman expected. In a delicious irony, Haman himself was asked what should be done (v. 6).

In making his request for advice, the king left out the crucial piece of information about who was to be honored, just as Haman himself had left out the crucial piece of information about the identity of the people to be destroyed in chapter 3. Haman was not slow mentally to fill in the blank, however, and with his own name (v. 6). Haman cut right to the chase, rolling the delicious words around on his tongue, savoring their sweetness: “For the man whom the king delights to honor…” (v. 7). His request was exactly what we would have expected, given the idolatry of public recognition that we saw in the past chapter. All he wanted was to be treated like the king in public (vv. 8-9).

Then reality rained on Haman’s parade in verse 10. The honors that he coveted above all else were actually to be bestowed on Mordecai the Jew, his prime enemy, and, worst of all, he personally would be the one to proclaim Mordecai’s elevation (v. 11). Haman’s own words had come back to haunt him, and the phrase he had so delighted to pronounce must have tasted like ashes in his mouth by the end of a long day of shouting it in front of Mordecai. His dream day had turned into his worst nightmare.

At the end of the day, the two men went their separate ways. For his part, Mordecai “returned to the king’s gate” (v. 12). He seems to have been virtually unaffected by the day’s events. We get the sense that for Mordecai, this was nothing special. Mordecai’s nemesis, on the other hand, was completely mortified: “Haman hurried to his house, mourning and with his head covered” (v. 12). Nor did Haman find much comfort when he got home. His wife and his other advisors had suddenly become the bearers of theological wisdom. Since Mordecai was of Jewish descent, Haman’s chances of overcoming him were nonexistent (v. 13).

This was potentially a Psalm 2 moment for Haman. His idolatry had been exposed as empty, his hatred of the Lord’s people shown to be vain. Now was the time to be wise, bow down, and kiss the son, submitting to the Lord and His anointed one, lest he be destroyed along the way (Ps. 2:12). But Haman was given little time to reflect on his foolish ways (v. 14).

What can we learn from this chapter of Esther? In the first place, once again we see the invisible hand of God changing the course of history. Yes, it’s an oxymoron to say that we see an invisible hand, but as other invisible objects (like the wind), sometimes the trail in its wake is unmistakable. So too, here in the Book of Esther, God’s work of providence is so clear that even the pagans cannot miss its significance. Even Haman’s friends are not so dense as to write off this day’s events as mere coincidence: they know that all this must be attributed to the intervention of Israel’s God, and that once He becomes involved in the world, the final outcome is never in doubt. Haman will now surely fall to destruction.

From the beginning of chapter 6 onward, the enemies of God’s people are on the run and God’s people are on the upswing – not because of their bold faith and fearless action, but simply because of a sleepless night. Esther is completely absent from this decisive chapter and Mordecai is merely a passive participant, but God is invisibly turning things around and restoring His people’s fortunes. In a way, help is arising from another place (see 4:14), in such a way as to make it clear that their deliverance is entirely from God! Yet this decisive intervention by God’s sovereignty does not make human actions meaningless. Esther will still get her moment to stand up for God and His people, and God will use her courageous stand to bring Haman’s scheming to an end.

Haman unwillingly declared Mordecai’s honor. He was forced to declare his praise. So also, some will unwillingly declare the honor of Christ on the last day. But should we who are His people be unwilling to sing His praises? Should we be among those who are slow to glorify God and give thanks to the Lamb that was slain for us? How could we not exalt Christ in our hearts as Lord, even now? How can we grow tired of praising and shouting His excellence?

How too can we be slow to trust in God’s providence, seeing that He has sent His beloved Son to the cross in our place? Will He not also, along with Christ, give us everything we need for our growth in godliness (Rom. 8:32)? Maybe we are still in an “Esther 5” situation at the moment, surrounded by enemies on every side, whose plans against us seem to be succeeding. Though the evil empire does its worst, it cannot prevail against those who have taken refuge in Christ (Ps. 2:12). Ultimately, its raging will be in vain.

If we are exalting Christ as Lord in our hearts, and are trusting firmly in God’s providence to do what is good for our souls and to bring glory to Himself, why are we so troubled? Why are we so filled with doubts and fears about our own futures, or the future of our children, or the future of our churches? God will accomplish His purposes, often slowly and imperceptibly, but nonetheless certainly. Sometimes He will do it through human agents who willingly submit to Him. Sometimes He will do it by directing those whose hearts are at enmity to Him, so that their sinful motives accomplish His perfect purposes. Sometimes He will do it through the collaboration of a whole series of seemingly trivial circumstances. But in the light of the great and precious promises of God, this we know for sure: Our God will save His people. In light of the cross, we know that His salvation cannot be thwarted. In light of these heavenly realities, what is left for us to do but to bow our hearts and knees before Him and sing His praises?

Esther 6:1-14 Study Questions:

What evidences do you see of God’s hidden sovereignty and providence in this passage, even as He continues to remain unmentioned? As the passage opens (vv. 1-2), how is this similar to the glimpses we have seen of the hidden hand of God earlier in the story?

Haman immediately assumes that King Ahasuerus delights to honor him (v. 6). Why might he be assuming this, based on earlier details in the narrative? What are we told about Haman’s response to being forced to honor Mordecai in this way (v. 12)?

In some ways, the words of Haman’s wise men and his wife come the closest in the entire book to pointing to God’s hand in this story (v. 13). What do they tell Haman about his experience with Mordecai? How do they relate it to the role of the Jewish people?

What warnings should we take from this passage, as we observe the actions and words of Haman? How does Esther 6 point us forward to the gospel of Jesus Christ – and particularly to His final and ultimate exaltation?

At the end of Chapter 4, Esther declared her commitment to put her life on the line by appearing unsummoned before King Ahasuerus. Humanly speaking, such an act was playing Russian roulette, for those who appeared before the king without invitation were liable to immediate execution. This was no empty threat. Contemporary depictions of the Persian king excavated at Persepolis show him seated on his throne holding his scepter, flanked by various officials, including a soldier with an ax. The Jewish community fasted, along with Esther, and we hold our breath…

Chapter 5 quickly takes us to the resolution of that tension in verses 1-2. After her three-day fast, Esther dressed in her royal best and presented herself before the king. Against all expectations, she won favor in his sight and he extended the scepter to her in a gesture of recognition and welcome. The threat of death is now removed: Esther will not die, but live.

Actually, the direct threat to Esther’s life from King Ahasuerus may have been defused, but behind that threat was the far greater danger to Esther and her whole community posed by the edict to destroy the Jews. This decree was issued by Haman in the king’s name. It had now become law of the Medes and Persians, which according to custom could not be changed.

The difficulty of the task facing her seems to be the reason why Esther did not respond directly to the king’s invitation to unburden her heart. The king was doubtless aware of the enormity of the risk Esther had taken in appearing unbidden in his presence. Something important was clearly troubling her, so he invited her to name the request (v. 3). Nothing short of a miracle would enable Esther’s request to be favorably received, and even though she had spent three days fasting and (implicitly) requesting divine assistance, she was in no position to presume on extraordinary assistance from on high. Unlike Moses and Elijah, she had no dramatic signs and wonders that she could call upon to convince a skeptical audience. Instead, she would have to follow the best strategy she could come up with and rely on God to make it effective in changing the king’s heart.

In response to Ahasuerus’s invitation to unburden her soul, therefore, Esther merely invited her husband to come to a feast that she was arranging that day, bringing Haman in tow (v. 4). Ahasuerus kindly accepted Esther’s invitation (v. 5). At the feast, the king once again invited Esther to reveal her request (v. 6). Ahasuerus must have recognized that she hadn’t risked her life earlier in appearing before him simply in order to get a date for the evening! Once again, it seemed to be a prime opportunity: the wine had been served, the king was in a mood of expansive generosity, again offering Esther anything she desired, up to half his kingdom. Esther seemed almost about to comply (v. 7). But then she broke off and merely asked the king and Haman to come to another feast the next day, at which all supposedly would be revealed (v. 8).

Haman went out from the feast in high spirits, not just from the effects of alcohol but also from the intoxicating effects of prestige. What Haman craved above all things was not simply significance, but rather being seen to be significant. It was quite an accolade, he thought, that he alone was summoned to this unprecedented and intimate party with the king and queen. Surely his star was now rising to unparalleled heights.

It didn’t take much to spoil his happy mood, however, because on the way out of the banquet Haman saw Mordecai sitting calmly at his desk (v. 9). Once again Mordecai failed to show Haman proper respect by rising before him or trembling with fear in view of the recent edict. Haman’s failure to instill either fear or respect in his enemy popped his bubble and turned his joy into wrath. His emotional strings were being pulled by his idol, which was public respect. His joy and his anger were simply the outward expressions of his heart’s idolatry. For now, however, he simply bided his time (v. 10).

Once Home, Haman set about the task of boosting his dented ego. He summoned his friends and his wife and required them to listen to a lengthy recitation of his exploits (v. 11). Then he announced the plum piece of news (v. 12). Haman alone, in the company of the king, had been summoned to Esther’s banquet that day and was invited to another of the same tomorrow. But as far as Haman was concerned, even this was of no consolation as long as Mordecai refused to worship him (v. 13).

Haman is a case study in what happens in our hearts when our idols are challenged. He made public recognition his idol, and the result was that as long as he was receiving adulation, he felt great. However, when the achievement of his goal was challenged, he responded by lashing out in rage and seeking to feed his idol through boasting. Even though he still possessed unparalleled power in the kingdom, that wasn’t enough. There was a void at the center of his life that no amount of success could fill.

A skilled counselor would have advised Haman to trace back his negative and positive emotions and discover what was driving his life. His rage was an opportunity to discern the condition of his heart, to uncover what was filling the God-shaped hole in the center of his life. Once he had recognized his idolatry, Haman might have been shown how the reign of his idol was being challenged by the day’s events. He could have been shown that he needed to abandon seeing the world revolving around him and his successes and instead see a world revolving around God, in which his achievements had value as a means of bringing God the Glory He deserved.

Such counsel might have saved Haman’s soul, and perhaps even his life, if he had indeed been willing to turn from his idol to the true and living God. Unfortunately, Haman did not seek biblical counseling, but rather was content to receive the wisdom of his wife and his friends. Their counsel simply to “go with the feeling” and give full vent to his rage (v. 14). This idea pleased Haman, and he had the gallows made. But the problem with this advice was that is sought to eliminate the negative emotion of anger by feeding Haman’s idolatry rather than by mortifying it. It sought to bolster Haman’s need to feel important by going for a “giant size” vengeance.

This chapter also shows us that dealing with the empire sometimes demands great subtlety. Some portions of the Bible might seem to suggest that a simple, straightforward, direct approach is always the best. “Dare to be a Daniel” and let the chips fall where they may. And often that is the best approach. However, there are times in the providence of God when a more indirect approach will yield greater results. A direct confrontation isn’t always the wisest response to conflict with the world. Sometimes subtlety and meekness are more effective in the long run.

Notice that God’s plan in this case was worked out without thunder and lightning, or a parting of the sea in order to save His people. No one was delivered from a fiery furnace or miraculously preserved in a den of lions. God’s work here is every bit as subtle as Esther’s. It proceeds by unobtrusively nudging each of the characters in the story to behave exactly in accord with their own wishes and temperaments, while at the same time they do exactly what He decreed. So, God’s plans proceed in the world around us. It goes forward, not in spite of our desires and inclinations, whether sinful or righteous, but precisely through shaping us to be the people we are.

Once again, when we consider the empire of Ahasuerus and the kingdom of God side by side, we cannot but be struck at the contrast. Praise God that we serve an altogether different king than the one Esther knew. Approaching God is not like approaching Ahasuerus, with our knees trembling and hearts wondering whether we will survive the encounter. Who can predict how such a capricious ruler will respond? Our God, however, invites us to come into His presence regularly, indeed frequently, so that we may make known to Him our petitions and requests. No special subtlety is required in framing our desires. We don’t need flowery court language or crafty psychological maneuvers to trick God into giving us what we need. On the contrary, He is a Father to us, and if even earthly fathers provide good things for their children, how much more will our will our heavenly Father give us the things we need to grow and prosper? Our King has an open-door policy.

This contrast is not because there is no cost to gain access to the King, however. Our entry to the heavenly court is free, but it was not cheaply bought. As sinners, a death is required before we can enter the presence of the all-holy One. God can hold out the golden scepter of favor to us only because the fierce rod of His judgment has fallen upon Christ. Our peace with God is paid for in Christ’s blood. However, having been paid at such a high price, our peace has thereby been purchased once and for all. No one and nothing can now separate us from God’s favor and the right to bring all of our concerns directly to the throne of grace. Neither death nor life, neither heavenly forces nor earthly trials, neither adversity nor prosperity – in short, nothing in all creation can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus (Rom. 8:38-39).

Esther 5:1-14 Study Questions:

How do the opening verses of this chapter (vv. 1-2) offer us resolution to the tension we felt as chapter 4 ended? In what way is this a hopeful moment – one that reminds us of God’s hidden hand in Esther’s life?

What do Haman’s joy and gladness in the first part of verse 9 reveal to us about his motivation, values, and treasure? What counsel would you have given to Haman, following his comments to his friends and wife (vv. 11-13)?

How would you evaluate the advice that is given to Haman by his wife and friends (v. 14)?

As we see the ugly, self-consumed heart of Haman being revealed to us in this passage, it is healthy for us to consider our own temptations toward idolatry. How might God be calling you to destroy the idol of acceptance and praise by others? How might He be calling you to accept criticism from others with more humility and grace?

In the whole Book of Esther there is one character who never appears on stage, never speaks, and is never actually spoken to: God. Nowhere is that truer than in chapter 4, where Esther must place her life in the hands of the unseen, unheard, and unrecognized God. The fate of the whole community lies in the balance. Verse 3 is how the community responded – but notice what is missing.

Mordecai too mourned the decree (vv. 1-2). Even though the empire had turned against him, Mordecai was still carefully law-abiding in everything (except bowing to Haman). He didn’t enter the king’s gate dressed in sackcloth because that was forbidden under Persian law. Yet instead of crying out to God, Mordecai’s first thought was to appeal to the king through Esther. He couldn’t go and speak to her directly, sequestered as she was, so he went to the entrance of the king’s gate in his sackcloth and ashes, knowing that word would get back to Esther of his condition. And so, it did (vv.4-5).

Notice how isolated Esther had become from the rest of the covenant community. Every Jew from India to Ethiopia was mourning and lamenting Haman’s edict, but Esther had no clue. She was apparently the only person in the whole Persian Empire who had not heard the news. Esther was not allowed to remain comfortably in the dark for long. Through her messenger, Mordecai informed her of the details of the plot (vv. 6-8).

Esther’s response to Mordecai’s first request was neutral. She didn’t say whether she would or wouldn’t go to the king. However, she underlined the risk that such a strategy would involve for her personally (vv. 9-11). According to custom, visitors had to be summoned into the presence of King Ahasuerus; no one could appear unannounced. The penalty for violating this law was death, unless the king extended his scepter in welcome. Everyone knew this, even people from outlying provinces. What is more, Esther hadn’t been summoned into the royal presence for thirty days – not a good sign, since doubtless the king had not been sleeping alone.

Mordecai was not so easily deterred. His second request to Esther was even stronger (vv. 12-14). In other words, Esther should not count on her comfortably isolated position in the royal palace. She too was part of the Jewish community, and her fate was intertwined with theirs. If they were to die, she would likely die too. If she didn’t act to help her community, though, she would be judged for failing to do her part and would suffer the consequences. But if she did intervene, things might perhaps turn out well after all. As Mordecai said, “Who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”

Faced with these unpalatable alternatives, Esther made her choice (vv. 15-17). So, Esther agreed to show solidarity with the Jewish community. A mark of this new connection was that she asked Mordecai to gather the Jews in Susa together to fast for her for three days (v. 16). She and her maids would do likewise, and then she would go to see the king. Esther’s only recorded words were “I will go to the king, though it is against the law, and if I perish, I perish (v. 16). However, the Hebrew construction makes it clear that she is not talking about death simply as one possible outcome of her obedience to Mordecai, but as an almost inevitable outcome of choosing that course.

The Book of Esther highlights a very real conundrum that pastors wrestle with on a weekly basis. Simply put, it is this: “How can people who confess an orthodox creed week after week so easily and completely lose track of the implications of that theology whenever problems emerge in daily life?” Mordecai’s worldview may have been based on a solid theology, but he had difficulty connecting that theology to the issues of everyday life. If we know people, and the motions of our own hearts, we will not have to travel to ancient Susa for examples of this phenomenon. In times of crisis, for all our orthodox theology, our own first response is frequently the whimper resignation or human strategy rather than the bark of robust faith in God. We believe in God, but in practice react to life’s crisis as if we were virtual atheists. This is a world at enmity with God and at enmity with His people, as Jesus reminded us in John 15:18-21.

Esther’s actions raise serious questions for each of us to answer. Am I still blind to the true nature of the world and the plight of many of God’s people around me? Do I know enough about what is going on in the world to mourn and lament the situation of God’s persecuted people? Often, we not know the burdens of our brothers and sisters in the church well enough or care about them deeply enough to fast and pray. We do not even know enough about what is going on in our own hearts to mourn and lament our sin. We are so blinded by our own good lives that we neither hear, nor heed the cries of God’s people. If our eyes are opened to the true nature of our world, then surely, we will find plenty of reasons to fast and cry out to God.

In fact, our actions will reveal whom we regard as our true community. When those around us in school or at work mock Christianity and we remain silent, we deny that we are part of God’s people by our silence (the dog that didn’t bark), effectively declaring instead that the world is our true community. When we judge ourselves and others according to the world’s values of what is fashionable and desirable, we declare that the world and not the people of God is our true community. What do our speech and our silence say about who our people are?

By itself, however, all the fasting in the world would accomplish nothing for God’s covenant people in Persia. What they needed was a mediator. They needed someone who was willing and able to go and plead their case where they could not go, into the presence of the king. They could not appear in the king’s presence to seek mercy for themselves; someone else had to do it for them.

Esther therefore had to act as well as to fast. She needed to take her life in her hands, risking everything for her people. She did so without any explicit promises from God to protect her, or to bring about a successful conclusion to her mission. Perhaps God would remain hidden and allow many of His people to die, including Esther herself, as He has done on other occasions in history. Yet at another level, Esther’s success was guaranteed. God had committed Himself to maintain a people for Himself, not so that they could be comfortable, but so that they could bring Him glory. No matter what sinful paths had led Esther to where she was, she was undeniably now in a position to give God glory by publicly identifying with her people and, if necessary, laying down her life through that identification. It was up to God how to glorify Himself through Esther’s obedience, whether by delivering the people through her or allowing her to be martyred in His service, but He would be glorified one way or another.

It is the same for us, when we step out in faith, however weak and trembling. We cannot know ahead of time how God will choose to use us. He may heal our diseases, transform our breaking marriages, and plant thriving ministries through us. Or He may sustain us in obedient submission to Him as our earthly hopes are dashed and our lives poured out for apparently little purpose. Either way, though, we have the guarantee that He will use even our faint faith as the means of bringing glory to Himself.

If it is true that a mediator was needed with King Ahasuerus, how much more do we need a mediator to intercede for us with God, the Great King. God is the great King of kings, the sovereign ruler of the universe, against whom we have rebelled. Fallen, sinful people cannot therefore simply saunter into His presence, unannounced and uninvited. On the contrary, His edict has gone forth against us, declaring us worthy of death because of our sin. The truth has been disseminated throughout His empire that “the soul who sins shall die” (Ezek. 18:4). His decree is settled and determined, all the more so because it was not formulated in ignorance and haste, but by perfect wisdom before the foundation of the world. Who then will argue our case? Who will come to bring relief and deliverance for us?

The answer is Jesus Christ! The true Mediator between God and man, in the fullness of time He took flesh and appeared in this world. He went before the Father, knowing that He was not just risking His life but laying it down. There was no other way in which our sin could be judged and we could be saved. Through His death, we have received life. Raised from the dead, Jesus Christ once again appears before the Father, where He continues to intercede for us.

Esther 4:1-17 Study Questions:

As the passage opens, how are the Jewish people responding to the announcement that has just been circulated throughout the kingdom (v. 3)? What is missing from their response? What might that tell you about the spiritual state of many Jews who were living in Persia?

What does verses 4-8 tell us about Esther’s awareness of the decree of the king? How does she seek to comfort Mordecai? What might that attempt at comfort reveal about her initial understanding of the imminent danger that is faced by the Jewish people?

What do you make of Esther’s initial response to Mordecai’s request of her (vv. 9-11)? What seems to worry Esther, as she considers going before the king to make an appeal?

Consider the choice Esther now has before her. What might her fears be? What additional challenge and perspective has Mordecai set before her? What do her final words in the chapter reveal about her heart and intentions (v. 17)?