The sun rose over Susa, casting golden light over a city that had seen the fall of one ruler and the rise of another. Just a day ago, the gallows stood tall in Haman’s courtyard, a symbol of his unchecked ambition and cruelty. Now, it was empty. His name, once spoken with fear and reverence, was nothing more than a whisper carried away by the wind.
But in his place, another name had begun to rise.
Mordecai.
A New Royal Seal
I stood beside King Xerxes in the great hall, watching as the royal signet ring—the same one that had once rested on Haman’s hand—was now pressed into Mordecai’s palm.
“Your wisdom has been tested,” the king declared, his voice carrying through the chamber, “and your loyalty has been proven. From this day forth, you shall take Haman’s place as my highest official, second only to me in all the land.”
I had never seen my cousin at a loss for words before, but for a brief moment, Mordecai simply stared at the ring in his hand.
I knew what he was thinking. Just weeks ago, he had stood at the king’s gate, an ordinary man, unnoticed by the court except for his defiance of Haman. And now, he stood before the king himself, wearing the robes of power, a symbol of the impossible ways in which God works through those who trust Him.
He bowed deeply. “I am honored, my king.”
I exhaled, my heart swelling with quiet pride.
Mordecai was not just a noble now. He was a leader. A voice for our people.
And we still had a battle to fight.
A Law That Could Not Be Undone
The king’s favor had brought safety to Mordecai and me, but it was not enough. The decree—the one Haman had sealed with the king’s ring—still stood.
I pleaded with Xerxes to reverse the law. However, the law of the Medes and Persians could not be revoked—not even by the king himself.
Which meant that on the appointed day, the Jews would still be attacked. Unless something was done.
The king in his wisdom gave Mordecai and me the power to do anything we would like on behalf of the Jews. He removed his signet ring and said:
“You may now write in the king’s name whatever you see fit in behalf of the Jews and seal it with the king’s signet ring, for a decree that is written in the king’s name and sealed with the king’s signet ring cannot be revoked.”
Mordecai wasted no time. He stepped into his new role with purpose, calling the scribes to draft a second decree.
If the first decree could not be undone, then a new one must be issued. One that would give the Jews the right to defend themselves.
As the scribes wrote furiously, I watched him work, my heart filled with a deep, unwavering gratitude.
He had always been a man of wisdom. A man of faith. And now, God had placed him exactly where he needed to be.
The Jewish Response
The news of Mordecai’s elevation spread rapidly. Messengers carried letters bearing the king’s seal to every province in the empire. Wherever they went, they proclaimed the new decree:
“On the appointed day, the Jews may stand and defend themselves against any who would seek to harm them.”
In every city, in every town where the first decree had cast a shadow of despair, now there was rejoicing.
Fathers embraced their children, mothers wept in relief.
And across the vast Persian kingdom, the fear that had gripped the Jews began to shift.
Their enemies were no longer certain of victory.
Mordecai’s rise had changed everything.
A New Role
Mordecai’s appointment was not merely symbolic—it was a shift in power, a restoration of justice in a kingdom that had nearly condemned an entire people to death. As he stepped into his new role, it was not with the arrogance of Haman, nor with the ambition of a man seeking his own gain.
He carried the weight of responsibility on his shoulders.
For the first time in generations, a Jew held a position of great influence in the Persian Empire. But unlike Haman, whose rule had been marked by cruelty and pride, Mordecai ruled with wisdom and humility.
One of his first acts as the king’s new highest official was to walk the streets of Susa, not in a grand display of power, but in recognition of the people who had mourned, fasted, and prayed.
When the Jews in the city saw him—dressed in royal garments, no longer in sackcloth and ashes—their cries of sorrow turned to shouts of joy.
Hope had returned.
A Reflection on Faith and Loyalty
That night, as I sat in my chambers, I thought of all that had transpired.
The path that had brought me here had not been one of ease. It had been a path of uncertainty, fear, sacrifice.
There were moments when I had doubted. When I had been afraid. When I had wondered if God had abandoned us.
But He had not.
His plan had been unfolding all along.
Mordecai had always told me, from the time I was a little girl, that faith is not always about seeing. Sometimes, it is about trusting—even when you do not understand.
And I finally understood.
We had been placed here for a reason.
The fear that had once gripped me was gone. In its place was something else.
Hope.
Because now, we had a chance to fight for our people.
And we would not fail.
Esther’s Silent Gratitude
I watched it all unfold, my heart swelling with quiet joy.
There had been a time when I thought my presence in the palace was merely chance. That I was just a girl swept into the current of the king’s whims.
But that was never true.
Mordecai had told me that I was placed here for such a time as this.
And now, I believed it.
I was no longer just Esther, the queen.
I was Esther, a daughter of Israel. A protector of my people. A servant of God.
And I would see this through to the end.
