They never said My name.
Not once.
No prophet cried out in the courts.
No pillar of fire led the way.
No miracle parted the skies.
But I was there.
I was in every quiet step.
Every withheld breath.
Every sleepless night.
I was there when Vashti stood and refused.
When the throne shook without trembling.
I was there when Hadassah was taken.
When she became Esther.
When she walked the marble halls wearing obedience like a question.
I was there in Mordecai’s silence, his watchful eyes by the gate, his prayers beneath his breath.
I was there when Haman cast lots.
He thought chance would serve him.
But chance serves Me.
I am the God of hidden threads.
Of whispered plans.
Of exiles and orphans.
I am the God who lets silence stretch so that trust might grow.
They wondered where I had gone.
They fasted and feared.
They believed with nothing in hand but memory.
But faith is not the absence of fear — it is the choice to stand beneath it.
Esther stood.
And in her courage, I wrote a new ending.
I gave no signs.
I sent no thunder.
I answered with reversal.
The proud fell.
The forgotten rose.
The gallows built in secret became the monument to justice.
The king did not see Me.
But I held his hand.
The queen did not hear Me.
But I steadied her voice.
The people did not call My name.
But they belonged to Me still.
They lit candles for Purim.
They broke bread.
They told the story.
And I smiled.
Because I had never left.
Because sometimes…
My greatest works are written in the chapters where I am not mentioned.
Thank you for completing this journey.
