The Hinge of Providence Text: Esther 4:15-17
Introduction: The Unseen King
The book of Esther is a peculiar book. It is a story of palace intrigue, of ethnic hatred, of courage in the face of certain death, and of glorious, last-minute deliverance. But it is most peculiar for what it does not contain. The name of God is not mentioned once. There are no prophets, no miracles, no direct divine speech. And for this reason, many have been tempted to treat it as a merely secular story, a tale of Jewish pluck and political maneuvering. But this is to miss the point entirely. The absence of God's name is the entire point. God is not absent; He is hidden. He is the author who has not written His name on the title page, but His fingerprints are all over every sentence. He is the king who never appears on stage, but who directs every entrance, every exit, and every line spoken.
This book is the doctrine of providence written in narrative form. Providence is the script of history, written by God and performed by men. Men have their choices, their schemes, their hatreds, and their ambitions, but God sits in the heavens and conducts the whole symphony. Haman, the Agagite, the ancient enemy of God's people, thinks he is pursuing a personal vendetta. King Ahasuerus thinks he is consolidating his own power. Mordecai thinks he is simply being a faithful Jew. But behind the curtain, the unseen King is moving all the pieces on His board. He is settling a score that goes all the way back to King Saul's disobedience with the Amalekites. He is positioning a young Jewish girl in the most powerful court in the world "for such a time as this."
The passage before us is the hinge upon which the entire story turns. It is the moment of decision. Up to this point, Esther has been passive. She was taken, she was prepared, she was made queen. But now, the crisis has come to her. The edict has been signed, and a day has been appointed for the annihilation of her people. Mordecai has laid the charge at her feet. She can remain silent in the palace and hope to escape, or she can step into the role for which God has providentially placed her, risking everything. Her decision here is not just a personal one; it is a covenantal one. And her response gives us a powerful picture of true faith, which is not the absence of fear, but courageous action in the face of it, undergirded by a profound reliance on the God who works, especially when He is unseen.
The Text
Then Esther said for them to respond to Mordecai, "Go, gather all the Jews who are found in Susa, and fast for me; do not eat or drink for three days, night or day. I and my young women also will fast in the same way. And thus I will go in to the king, which is not according to the law; and if I perish, I perish.” So Mordecai went away and did just as Esther had commanded him.
(Esther 4:15-17 LSB)
The Call to Corporate Desperation (v. 15-16a)
Esther's response to Mordecai's charge is immediate and decisive. She does not argue further. She does not wallow in self-pity. She acts. And her first action is to call for a fast.
"Then Esther said for them to respond to Mordecai, 'Go, gather all the Jews who are found in Susa, and fast for me; do not eat or drink for three days, night or day. I and my young women also will fast in the same way.'" (Esther 4:15-16a)
Notice the first thing she does. She does not gather an army. She does not try to raise funds or hire lobbyists. She gathers the Jews to fast. This is a spiritual crisis, and it requires a spiritual weapon. Fasting, in Scripture, is the physical expression of spiritual desperation. It is an admission of utter helplessness. It is the body crying out what the soul feels: "We cannot solve this. We have no strength. We have no wisdom. Our only hope is in God." When King Jehoshaphat was faced with a massive invading army, he "set his face to seek the Lord, and proclaimed a fast throughout all Judah" (2 Chron. 20:3). Fasting is the emergency alarm we pull when the enemy is at the gates and we are out of options.
Esther calls for a corporate fast. "Gather all the Jews." This is not a private, devotional exercise. This is a public, unified appeal to Heaven. She understands that they are in this together. The threat is against the entire covenant people, and the appeal must come from the entire covenant people. This is a principle we have largely lost in our individualistic age. We think of faith as a private affair between "me and Jesus." But biblical faith is almost always corporate. We are saved as individuals, but we are saved into a body, a people, a kingdom. And when that kingdom is threatened, the people must cry out as one.
The terms of the fast are severe: "three days, night or day," without food or water. This is an absolute fast, reserved for the most dire of circumstances. This is not a casual skipping of lunch. This is a full-stop, whole-bodied cry of anguish and dependence. It is a recognition that the food which sustains physical life is worthless if that life is about to be extinguished anyway. They are setting aside the means of earthly sustenance to plead with the source of all sustenance.
And Esther leads by example. "I and my young women also will fast in the same way." She does not ask of her people what she is unwilling to do herself. She, in the luxury of the palace, will join her people in the discipline of desperation. This is true leadership. She identifies herself with her people not just in their danger, but in their dependence on God. Though she is a queen, she recognizes that her position is useless apart from the favor of the unseen King.
The Courage of Resigned Faith (v. 16b)
After laying the spiritual groundwork, Esther declares her intention. This is where faith moves from the prayer closet into the throne room.
"And thus I will go in to the king, which is not according to the law; and if I perish, I perish." (Esther 4:16b)
The fast is not a substitute for action; it is the preparation for it. Faith is not passive resignation to fate. Faith is active obedience, fueled by dependent prayer. Esther is going to do the thing that terrifies her. She is going to break the law of the Medes and Persians, a law designed to insulate the despotic king from unwanted appeals. To approach the king unsummoned was to gamble with your life, and the only thing that could save you was the arbitrary extension of a golden scepter. This was not a calculated risk; it was a suicidal mission with a sliver of hope.
And her resolve is captured in that immortal phrase: "and if I perish, I perish." This is not the language of despair. It is the language of profound, bedrock faith. It is the same spirit we see in Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego before the furnace: "Our God whom we serve is able to deliver us... But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods" (Daniel 3:17-18). It is the same spirit we hear from Jacob, sending Benjamin to Egypt: "And as for me, if I am bereaved of my children, I am bereaved" (Genesis 43:14).
This is what true faith looks like. It is not a guarantee of a particular outcome. It is not a name-it-and-claim-it certainty that everything will work out the way we want. True faith is a radical entrustment of the outcome to God. It is the ability to say, "I am called to obey. I am called to be faithful in this moment. The results are in God's hands. He is sovereign, He is good, and I will do my duty whether I live or die." Esther has reached the point where her own life is secondary to the life of her people and the will of her God. She is not flippant about death, but she is no longer controlled by the fear of it. This is the liberty that Christ purchases for us. He has delivered us "from the fear of death" by which we were "held in slavery" (Hebrews 2:15).
The Obedience of a United Front (v. 17)
The final verse in our passage is short, but crucial. It shows the response to Esther's courageous leadership.
"So Mordecai went away and did just as Esther had commanded him." (Esther 4:17)
There is a beautiful reversal here. Throughout the book, Mordecai has been the one commanding Esther. He was her elder cousin, her guardian, the one who told her not to reveal her identity, and the one who charged her to go before the king. But now, the roles have shifted. Esther has stepped into her God-ordained authority as queen. She is the one giving the commands, and Mordecai, the one who prodded her to action, now humbly obeys. He recognizes that God is now leading through her.
He goes and does "just as Esther had commanded him." He gathers the Jews. He institutes the fast. He puts the spiritual machinery in motion that will support Esther's dangerous mission. This is a picture of a people united in purpose. The division and hesitation are gone. They are now a single body, moving with a single mind, committed to a single course of action, whatever the cost. This unity, this shared desperation and shared resolve, is the fruit of Esther's faithful decision.
Conclusion: For Such a Time as This
This moment in Esther's life is a profound illustration of the Christian life. We are all, in our own spheres, placed by God's hidden providence "for such a time as this." We live in a world that is, like Persia, hostile to the people of God and the rule of His Christ. We are faced with our own Hamans, our own ungodly edicts, our own impossible situations.
And the call to us is the same. First, we are called to a realistic desperation. We must recognize that our political cleverness, our cultural engagement, and our personal efforts are utterly insufficient. We must be a people of the fast, a people who know how to cry out to God in corporate dependence, acknowledging that apart from Him, we can do nothing.
Second, we are called to courageous action. Prayer is not a substitute for getting up and walking into the throne room. We must speak the truth, even when it is against the law of the land. We must stand for righteousness, even if it costs us our reputation, our livelihood, or our life. We must do our duty.
And finally, we must be a people of resigned faith. We must entrust the results to God. Our task is faithfulness, not successfulness. We may or may not be delivered in the way we expect. But our God is able to deliver us. And even if He does not, we will not bow. We will do our duty, and we will say with Esther, with a calm and settled heart, "If I perish, I perish." For we know that to live is Christ, and to die is gain. We serve a King who went to His own cross with this same resolve, and because He perished and did not remain perished, we who are in Him have nothing, ultimately, to fear.