30 Apr Thinking Through Celebration

Ok, first the good news: I have a daughter coming in a matter of weeks, and I want to celebrate her.

Here’s the hard part: Maybe like some of you, my thoughts refuse to move past the lingering question, asked by countless parents: “How will I provide?”

The question shakes me to my knees. The spirit of poverty dangles it over my shoulder. There is cruelty in his voice when he whispers to me, “You are not enough to keep me from them.” My value and identity become misaligned and my life begins to veer towards the belief that deep down, I am not enough. 

The fear chases me into the presence of my Lord pleading, “What would you have me do?”  And the Lord whispers to me, “celebrate.”

So… I tried. And I made the shocking discovery that I don’t know how. I know to keep fighting. I know how to endure and have faith. But I couldn’t find a meaningful WOOHOO in me. And I know people will say that it’s easy, but they say that about swimming also… and I’ve almost drowned… twice. 

So I braced myself, and asked the Lord to teach me how to celebrate, and he led me to the book of Esther, whose story, remarkably, ends with celebration:

Esther 8:16-17 (ESV) The Jews had light and gladness and joy and honor. And in every province and in every city, wherever the king’s command and his edict reached, there was gladness and joy among the Jews, a feast and a holiday.

So I opened the book with an open heart, determined to follow the Spirit and see how Esther’s story ended in celebration with others…because it didn’t start that way.

The truth is–like how I have felt for much of my life- Esther was mostly alone.

She changed her name and told no one she was a Jew “for Mordecai had commanded her not to make it known.” (Esther 2:10)

That resonated with me. Honestly, most days, I feel alone. Maybe like you, I’ve felt like I couldn’t make myself known. But then I hear the Lord asking, “Who told you that you were alone?”

Perhaps it was a lesson I was introduced to when I was young. I remember the first year we were placed in the welfare system and moved to “the projects”. I was the new kid AND the nerd kid… in the hood. I had to run home from the bus every day for weeks, maybe even months, in tears, every. single. day. That is, until I learned how to fit in around the edges. I learned to be shrewd and acceptable. And like Esther, over the years, I feel like I grew in favor with people. 

Somehow I even found a family, but I still feel like I spend so much time focused on the consuming task of NOT being neurodivergent (you can look it up!). I find myself trying to mask certain behaviors in my kids, which stifles them and their expressions… which then create ripples and frictions in marriage… and reinforces the feeling that I am alone. 

So, who told me I was alone? I guess I’ve been listening to my experiences. And I’ve allowed my voice and perspective, developed in isolation,  to harmonize with those experiences. 

But as I read on, the story exposes just how alone Esther isn’t. 

You may know the plot of the book: the Jewish people  are sentenced to be executed by the evil Haman. And Mordecai, who had been checking on Esther almost daily, is fasting and mourning. He pleads with Esther to ask the king for help and she replies, “sorry, I can’t do anything.”

And it’s in the next exchange that the Lord spoke something to me. 

Esther 4:13-14 (ESV) 13 Then Mordecai told them to reply to Esther, “Do not think to yourself that in the king’s palace you will escape any more than all the other Jews. 14 For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”

Mordecai reminds her that she is connected to a people. 

Then she responds. “Have my people fast with me.”

That hit me. How many people do I have in my life that are, and have been, praying for me? I know I have people believing for God’s purposes to be revealed in my life. My family trusts that I am part of God’s good for them. And how much more has God always been present? His name is never mentioned in the book of Esther, but the evidence of His work is obvious. 

When I look at my life through the lens of culture or comfort, it’s easy for my heart to paint a sad and lonely picture. But when I look at the family I have, both physically and spiritually, I find that I am surrounded by people that love me, trust me, and depend on me. I have a role to play, and THAT is cause to celebrate. 

Lord, help me to see the evidence of your work in my life. To remember that I am never forsaken by You. And remind my heart that I am loved and trusted. Help me to delight in the role You have made me to play in the lives of those around me, and help me to celebrate those relationships. 

So first the Lord says for me to start celebrating the relationships around me. That’s hard, but to be honest, that’s the easy part.

Because  then He calls me to celebrate in faith. But what does that mean?

I was recently told there’s a difference between trust and giving the benefit of a doubt. So I asked myself, “What IS the benefit of a doubt?” And I think, when used in love, it allows us to reject the wrong ideas. It can help shift a real problem or hurt into a position where grace can better be applied. It helps with the practice of believing, hoping, and enduring all things. 

And when is it not a benefit? 

A benefit of a doubt is NOT a benefit when what you NEED is trust. I think trust is like…. impenetrable faith. It’s a malleable force forged by tribulation into spiritual armor, mental walls, and emotional defenses. Fashioned by time and repetition, trust is the sword wedged into the stone of our subconscious. I’ve tempered my lot through skepticism, perfectionism, and withdrawal. 

If I had to put the things I trust in into statements they would sound something like:

I trust it is easier to be myself. 

I trust authority to be demeaning, dismissive, and too secure in their own way. 

I trust punishment to come under the cloak of discipline. 

I trust that my security and acceptance is in what I add…

These are the places where my actions speak louder than my words, revealing that too often, I trust sin to bring ruin more than I trust love to redeem. 

When I look at Esther’s situation in Chapter 4, I can see her trust in the laws and authority of the men. She trusted them to exert that power over her, and that she was helpless to change any circumstances. She leans into a culturally acceptable doubt that she was not worthy. She tells Mordecai that ” if any man or woman goes to the king inside the inner court without being called, there is but one law–to be put to death” (Est 4:11 ESV). Her argument is sound and logical and absolutely right. I can almost FEEL Esther’s pushback in my gut. 

But then Mordecai counters her fear… with faith. He believed wholeheartedly there WOULD BE a deliverance and much reason to celebrate. BUT he warns, “If you choose to save your life, you will lose it.”

And this bolsters Esther. She responds to this firmly grounded belief from the man who raised her… with a fast. To have an entire nation of people, some of which were already fasting, remove all means of sustenance for three days and cry out to God. And in those three days she planned. She gathered her wisdom, kneaded in the favor of the Lord, and built a plan solely on faith. She lets go of the life she was trying to save, her secure and safe role as the queen of Persia, with the infamous words, “if i perish, let me perish.”

But I don’t think this was a woeful journey. Yes it was a big risk, but to Mordecai’s point, deliverance would come. The idea of celebrating the “good works” prepared for us (my family) to walk in to… feels illusive. It’s a mystery to me. But what a gift it would be, though, to be able to see the challenges, know the victory beforehand, and be able to give God the glory as things play themselves out. 

Lord, teach me to trust that the plans of my enemies, the princes of the air, cannot and will not prevail. You have promised that if I seek first Your kingdom, what I eat and what I wear will be added. You have promised that by delighting in You, my heart will be satisfied. So, my sovereign king, who does not summon us but instead descends to Your bride. As you move me and my family into this new season of life, I ask You for a healthy daughter and for the security of knowing we are cared for. I ask without shame and in full faith. Allowing my heart to celebrate in anticipation through the trust I have in You.

So I am to celebrate through relationships, celebrate in faith, and finally the Lord challenges me to celebrate the victories. 

It’s easy for me to recount the adversaries in the battles I’ve had to fight. I can quickly organize who did what and how much it hurt. I have no problem venting, mostly to myself, how hard things are or high the odds are stacked against me. Rarely, though, do I take the time to audit all the good. When a challenge has passed, my response is not to celebrate, but to recognize all the places I could have done better. I give glory and honor to God, of course, but I don’t connect HIS good to MY good. 

The Lord is inviting me to celebrate with Him. As He’s doing the work and afterwards. 

By chapter 8, Esther has exposed the plot to destroy her people and received the king’s blessing to rescue them. Then Mordecai, who the king has promoted, writes a decree stating that the Jews would be allowed to defend themselves against any who would cause them harm, and seals it with the king’s ring. 

The fighting wasn’t over, and because the message had to be carried as far as Ethiopia to India, many fights hadn’t even started. But wherever the news was received, “the Jews had light and gladness and joy and honor.” (Est 8:16 ESV)

Somehow every Jew knew that permission to fight back meant victory. That not only would they be able to defend themselves, but they would prevail. It was such a cultural stir on behalf of the Jews that the people started claiming to be Jews out of fear of what might happen. 

When I look at my story… the fights and battles that are still to come, I must remember that I have the victory. Jesus has already made the decree, “tetelestai” and in that statement my joy and gladness should be found. That should be the cornerstone of my heart towards celebration. 

And how humbling it is to know that sometimes the victory doesn’t just come to me, but through me. 

When the question of how I will provide arises, I can rejoice that the fight against the spirit of poverty within me is a battle that I know is won. And like a decree sealed with the king’s ring, that victory “cannot be revoked.” (Est. 8:8) How wonderful it is to feel released from the burden of oppression and to know that that freedom cannot be taken away. My freedom has been written and sealed with His death on the cross and that is cause to celebrate. 

Lord, let me walk towards victory full of hope and anticipation. Let me deny my trust in disappointment and surrender to Your promises to me. Help me to see Your right hand at work around me and remember that you are never absent from me. Teach me to commune incessantly with Your Spirit within me now and forevermore. 

Most of all, teach me to celebrate.

Amen,
Tazz