Three Days of Waiting
They say time passes slowly when you are afraid.
But in those three days of fasting, time did not pass — it stood still.
The sun rose and fell without meaning. Food lost all purpose. Even my prayers became silent after a while. There are moments when words fail, and only the groaning of the soul remains.
Esther was in the palace, preparing to do the unthinkable. And I was at the gate, waiting to see if I would ever see her again.
The Queen Who Hid Her Name
It had been years since she had first walked into the palace — just a girl with a hidden name and a secret people.
She had followed my instructions then. Tell no one you are a Jew.
Not out of shame.
Out of timing.
God’s plan does not always move in haste, but it moves with precision.
And now, the moment had come for her to reveal everything — her name, her people, her allegiance.
Her identity was no longer something to conceal. It had become her weapon.
But would the king extend his scepter… or summon the guards?
She Walked In Anyway
We heard the story later, of course — how she dressed in royal robes, how she stood at the inner court, unmoving, silent, waiting for the king’s gaze to lift.
It could have ended in that moment.
But God…
God lifted his hand through the hand of a king.
The golden scepter extended. The judgment withheld. Favor found.
And with it, an invitation:
“What is your request, Queen Esther?”
A Banquet Instead of a Plea
But instead of pleading for her people, she did something no one expected. She smiled and said, “If it pleases the king, let the king and Haman come today to a banquet I have prepared.”
A banquet?
Not a cry for mercy. Not an appeal for justice. A banquet?
I confess — my heart sank when I heard.
Had she lost her nerve? Had the palace changed her heart? Had silence returned to claim her once more?
But I forgot something…
Hadassah was not a child anymore.
She had become Esther.
And Esther knew something I didn’t:
Sometimes, to be heard, you must first be seen.
The Game Behind the Curtain
The invitation confused Haman.
It thrilled him too, of course.
To dine with the king was an honor.
But to be invited alone with the queen? That was power. Prestige. Proximity.
And it fed the disease already growing in him — his pride.
He left that banquet not with suspicion, but with swelling self-importance. He strutted past the gate with the posture of a man who believed the world now owed him everything.
And I…
I still didn’t bow.
His eyes found me again. And this time, they were filled not with curiosity — but with hatred.
The Gallows and the Boast
Later that night, I heard what happened.
Haman gathered his friends and his wife and boasted of his riches, his children, and his unique access to the queen.
“But,” he told them, “none of it satisfies me as long as I see that Jew Mordecai sitting at the king’s gate.”
It’s strange, isn’t it? How a single man’s peace can unravel another’s power. How one refusal can expose another’s emptiness.
His wife gave him the idea. “Build a gallows,” she said. “Fifty cubits high. Ask the king in the morning to hang him there.”
And Haman smiled.
And ordered it to be done.
But God Never Sleeps
That night, while Haman dreamed of gallows, and Esther readied herself for her next move, and I sat at the gate in quiet mourning…
The king could not sleep.
