Esther 4:14 For if you remain completely silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father’s house will perish. Yet who knows whether you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”
The Festival of Purim, which we celebrate on the 14th of Adar—the last month in the Biblical calendar—begins this Thursday evening and continues through Friday evening this year. Although Purim isn’t one of the moedim, or appointed feasts, named in the Torah, it arose in the 4th century BC and has been cherished ever since.
While the dramatic events leading to Purim are vividly detailed in the Book of Esther, the festival of Purim does not appear in the New Testament.
The Book of Esther is set in the ancient city of Susa (Shushan), now part of modern-day western Iran. The story unfolds sometime after the 70-year exile in Babylon, but likely before Ezra the priest and Nehemiah the governor returned to Israel.
In a remarkable series of divinely guided events, a young Jewish woman named Hadassah, better known as Esther, ascends to become queen of Persia. Despite her high status, Esther conceals her Jewish identity on the advice of Mordecai: “Esther had not made known her people or her kindred, for Mordecai had charged her not to make it known” (Esther 2:10, 20).
As the plot thickens, Haman, the king’s advisor, engineers a plan to annihilate all Jews. By casting lots (Esther 3:7; Esther 9:26), known in Hebrew as purim, the 13th of Adar is set for this horrific event (Esther 3:13). However, the narrative takes a turn when Esther, spurred by Mordecai, discloses her heritage to the king, leading to Haman’s death and the Jews’ miraculous deliverance.
While the Book of Esther does not explicitly mention God, His presence is intricately woven throughout the narrative, visible to all who immerse themselves in its pages.
One of the most profound lessons from Purim is that God’s rescue plan for the Jewish people would happen with or without Esther’s help. Mordecai even tells Esther that if she kept quiet, “relief and deliverance for the Jews would arise from another place.” This shows that God’s plans don’t rely on just one person, even though Esther was in the right place at the right time, “for such a time as this.” (Esther 4:14)
Likewise, we are alive now “for such a time as this.” God’s prophetic plan to redeem the world, as well as the Jewish people, will happen with or without us, however, God has placed us here for “such a time as this” to see God’s prophetic plan unfold fully, that we may see the “fulness of the Gentiles” (Romans 11:25) and then “all of Israel be saved” (Romans 11:26) for this Gospel must be preached to the ends of the earth, and then the end will come! (Matthew 24:14)
So, take hold of this moment, this special time in your life, and really get that God put you here “for such a time as this.” You’re meant to do incredible things and participate in His ultimate plan—bringing hope and redemption through His Son to the whole world. And guess what? You might just be the spark that ignites a revival right where you are!
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]When the children of Israel wandered in the wilderness for forty years, they traversed a rugged, unpredictable landscape — mile after mile of mountains, valleys, rocks, and desert sands — as they journeyed from slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land.
For many, God remains a theory—an idea borrowed from tradition, deduced from the cosmos, or tucked quietly into the corners of a creed. He is believed in from afar, but is rarely encountered. Even among believers, it’s not uncommon to live with a distant reverence for God while lacking a vibrant, personal communion with Him.
God has always longed for intimacy with us. He formed us for Himself–to walk with Him, to know Him, to delight in His Presence. This is the very heartbeat of creation: relationship, not religion. Yet sin drove a wedge between us. A veil was drawn, shutting out the light of His face and placing distance where there was once communion.
A beachhead is the first critical objective in a military invasion–the spot where a force lands on enemy territory and secures a position for greater advancement. It’s the place of breakthrough. And it’s also the place of fiercest resistance.
David wrote Psalm 3 while running for his life — betrayed, heartbroken, and hunted by his own son, Absalom. The weight of rebellion wasn’t just political; it was personal. His household had turned against him. Friends became foes. Loyal hearts grew cold. The throne he once held was now surrounded by enemies, and the whispers grew louder: “There is no salvation for him in God.”
Psalm 2 is a divine announcement — a heavenly decree that demands the world’s attention. It begins with a question: “Why do the nations rage, and the peoples plot in vain?” (Ps. 2:1). The nations rise up, not against injustice or tyranny, but against the rule of God’s Meshiach (Messiah). That Anointed is Yeshua — the Son whom the Father has set on His holy hill in Zion (Ps. 2:6). The psalm strips away all pretense and exposes the heart of human rebellion: it is a refusal to be ruled by His Messiah.
Psalm 1 opens with a sobering warning about the quiet, deadly slide into sin. The man without God doesn’t become a scorner overnight — he drifts there gradually. First, he walks in ungodly counsel, entertaining worldly thoughts. Then, he stands in the path of sinners, embracing their way of life. Finally, he sits in the seat of the scornful, hardened in heart and mocking what is sacred. This progression — from a man without God to scorner — reveals how small compromises grow into full rebellion, dulling the conscience and deadening the soul.