The Great Reversal Begins Text: Esther 6:1-9
Introduction: The God Who Isn't Mentioned
The book of Esther is famous for what it lacks. God is never mentioned. Not once. There are no miracles, no prophets, no direct divine interventions. And for this reason, many throughout church history have been skittish about it. But this absence of God's name is a profound literary and theological device. The author is not trying to write a secular story; he is showing us what God's raw providence looks like from the ground, in the middle of a pagan empire, when His people are in deep trouble. He is teaching us to see that God is most present when He seems most absent.
This book is a divine comedy, a story of breathtaking irony where the plans of wicked men are not just thwarted but spectacularly inverted. The gallows built for the hero ends up hanging the villain. The decree of genocide becomes the occasion for the deliverance and victory of God's people. This is God's signature move. He doesn't just block the enemy's punch; He uses the enemy's own momentum to throw him to the mat. And nowhere is this divine, ironic jujitsu more apparent than in our text this morning.
We live in a world that believes in luck, chance, and coincidence. The world believes in powerful men, in political maneuvering, in brute force. Haman is the poster boy for this worldview. He is a man who believes he can control his own destiny, arrange the world to his liking, and eliminate his problems with a pen stroke and a bit of lumber. But in this chapter, the God who is never named begins to unravel Haman's neat little world with a series of glorious "coincidences." A sleepless king, a dusty book, a forgotten good deed, and a villain's monumental pride all converge in one night. The world calls this serendipity. The Bible calls it sovereignty.
What we are about to see is the hinge of the entire story. The great reversal begins not with a thunderclap from heaven, but with a king who can't sleep. This is how our God works. He doesn't always part the Red Sea; sometimes He just gives a pagan king a restless night. And it is in these small, mundane moments that the entire course of history can be turned on a dime. This is a profound encouragement for us, because we too live in a pagan empire where God often seems silent. But He is never absent. He is always working, always weaving the threads, preparing the stage for the downfall of the proud and the exaltation of the humble.
The Text
During that night, sleep had fled from the king, so he said for them to bring the book of memoranda, the chronicles, and they were read before the king. And it was found written what Mordecai had told concerning Bigthana and Teresh, two of the king’s eunuchs from those who were doorkeepers, that they had sought to send forth their hand against King Ahasuerus. And the king said, “What honor or greatness has been done to Mordecai for this?” Then the king’s young men who attended him said, “Nothing has been done for him.” So the king said, “Who is in the court?” Now Haman had entered the outer court of the king’s house in order to speak to the king about hanging Mordecai on the gallows which he had set up for him. And the king’s young men said to him, “Behold, Haman is standing in the court.” And the king said, “Let him come in.” So Haman came in, and the king said to him, “What is to be done for the man whom the king delights to honor?” And Haman said in his heart, “Whom would the king delight to honor more than me?” Then Haman said to the king, “For the man whom the king delights to honor, let them bring a royal robe which the king clothes himself in, and the horse on which the king has ridden, and on whose head a royal crown has been placed; and let the robe and the horse be given over to the hand of one of the king’s most noble princes, and let them clothe the man whom the king delights to honor and lead him on horseback through the city square and call out before him, ‘Thus it shall be done to the man whom the king delights to honor.’ ”
(Esther 6:1-9 LSB)
Providence in Pajamas (v. 1-3)
The action begins in the dead of night, in the king's bedroom.
"During that night, sleep had fled from the king, so he said for them to bring the book of memoranda, the chronicles, and they were read before the king." (Esther 6:1)
The most powerful man in the world cannot command his own sleep. The Lord gives to His beloved sleep, but Ahasuerus is not one of His beloved. So God, for His own purposes, withdraws sleep from him. Notice the timing. This is "that night," the night between Esther's two banquets. Haman is at home, gloating over his fifty-cubit gallows, and Mordecai is at the king's gate, fasting in sackcloth and ashes. The cosmic chess match is underway, and God makes His move by giving the king insomnia.
And what does a restless king do? He doesn't call for wine or women; he calls for the most boring book in the palace, "the book of memoranda, the chronicles." This is the ancient equivalent of listening to the shipping forecast. It was the official, tedious record of the kingdom's events. And so a servant begins to drone on, reading through the court records. We are not told how long he read, but imagine the sheer volume of material. Yet, providentially, he arrives at a very specific entry.
"And it was found written what Mordecai had told concerning Bigthana and Teresh... that they had sought to send forth their hand against King Ahasuerus. And the king said, 'What honor or greatness has been done to Mordecai for this?' Then the king’s young men who attended him said, 'Nothing has been done for him.'" (Esther 6:2-3)
Out of all the records, they happen upon the story of Mordecai uncovering an assassination plot. The king's life was saved, and the man who saved it was forgotten. This is a crucial detail. God ensured that Mordecai was not rewarded at the time, saving that reward for this precise, critical moment. Had Mordecai been given a bag of gold five years earlier, this night would have gone very differently. But God's timing is perfect. The king, now fully awake and engaged, realizes a great injustice has been done. A man who saved his life received nothing. This sets the stage for the next scene.
The Villain's Entrance (v. 4-5)
Just as the king is pondering how to right this wrong, the author cuts to the courtyard. The timing is almost comical.
"So the king said, 'Who is in the court?' Now Haman had entered the outer court of the king’s house in order to speak to the king about hanging Mordecai on the gallows which he had set up for him." (Esther 6:4)
Haman, consumed by his hatred for Mordecai, couldn't sleep either. He is so eager to see Mordecai dead that he has come to the palace at the crack of dawn to get the king's permission to use his new gallows. He walks into the court, full of his murderous plan, at the exact moment the king is looking for someone to help him honor the very man Haman wants to kill. You could not write better drama. This is not chance; this is divine stage management. Haman thinks he is the one pulling the strings, but he is just a puppet walking onto a stage that God has set.
The servants announce his presence, and the king, seeing a perfect opportunity, says, "Let him come in." Haman strides in, chest puffed out, ready to make his request, completely oblivious to the fact that he has just walked into a divine ambush.
Pride Builds Its Own Parade (v. 6-9)
What follows is one of the most deliciously ironic dialogues in all of Scripture. The king poses a question, and Haman's ego does the rest.
"So Haman came in, and the king said to him, 'What is to be done for the man whom the king delights to honor?' And Haman said in his heart, 'Whom would the king delight to honor more than me?'" (Esther 6:6)
The king's question is general, but Haman's pride makes it personal. His mind is a hall of mirrors, and every reflection is of himself. It is utterly inconceivable to him that the king could be thinking of anyone else. This is the blinding nature of pride. It creates a world where you are the sun, and everyone else is a minor planet revolving around you. Haman's heart is so full of Haman that there is no room for reality.
And so, believing he is designing his own coronation, Haman lays it on thick. He doesn't just ask for a promotion or a gift. He designs the ultimate public spectacle of honor.
"Then Haman said to the king, 'For the man whom the king delights to honor, let them bring a royal robe which the king clothes himself in, and the horse on which the king has ridden, and on whose head a royal crown has been placed...'" (Esther 6:7-8)
He wants it all. The king's personal robe. The king's own horse. The royal crown. He wants to be dressed up as the king himself. This is more than just a request for honor; it is a glimpse into the treasonous ambition of his heart. He wants to be the king. This is the essence of all sin, going back to the garden: "You will be like God."
But he's not done. The parade is the thing.
"...and let the robe and the horse be given over to the hand of one of the king’s most noble princes, and let them clothe the man whom the king delights to honor and lead him on horseback through the city square and call out before him, ‘Thus it shall be done to the man whom the king delights to honor.’" (Esther 6:9)
He wants his glory to be public. He wants one of the highest princes, a rival, no doubt, to be his stable boy for the day. And he wants this prince to act as his town crier, shouting Haman's praises through the streets. In his pride, he has scripted his own humiliation down to the last detail. He has meticulously designed the ceremony that will honor his enemy and be carried out by his own hand. God did not have to devise Haman's punishment; He simply let Haman's own pride do it for Him. Pride is not just a sin; it is a self-destruct mechanism.
The Great Reversal and the Gospel
This story is a microcosm of a much larger story. The great reversal in Susa points us to the ultimate reversal in Jerusalem. Satan, like Haman, was filled with pride and murderous hatred for the true King. He thought he had his enemy cornered. He stirred up the hearts of wicked men to build a gallows, a cross, outside the city gate.
He thought that by hanging the Son of God on that tree, he would secure his final victory. He thought he was destroying his rival and solidifying his own kingdom. But in that very act, he was unwittingly fulfilling the plan of God. The cross, which looked like the ultimate defeat, was in fact the ultimate victory. It was the place where the King was exalted. It was the instrument by which the enemy's head was crushed.
Satan, like Haman, was forced to witness the exaltation of the one he sought to destroy. The death of Christ led to His resurrection and ascension, where He was given the name that is above every name. All the honor and glory that Satan craved for himself was heaped upon the Son.
And the application for us is this. We are to walk as Mordecai, not as Haman. We are to walk in humility and faithfulness, even when it seems like the Hamans of this world are winning. We are to trust in the unseen providence of God, who works through sleepless nights and forgotten details. We must understand that God is telling a story, and in that story, pride always goes before a fall. The way up in the kingdom of God is the way down.
When you are forgotten, when you are maligned, when the wicked seem to prosper, remember this night in Susa. Remember the God who is quietly moving all the pieces on the board. He has not forgotten you. Your reward is coming. And for all those who set themselves up against the Lord and His people, their day is coming too. They are busy building their own gallows, and scripting their own humiliation. And on the last day, they will be forced to watch as the King honors those they despised, and they will have to confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.