For this Time

I was sitting in Bible study this morning, listening as we moved through the story of Esther, specifically chapters three and four. It was my first time joining this group, so I tried to keep quiet to get a sense of the way these ladies liked to work together. One question kept coming up in the group, and it lingered with me longer than I expected. How did they not know she was a Jew?

Esther was not hidden away in some quiet corner. She was living in the palace. She had been chosen as queen. She was seen, known, positioned. And still, this essential part of who she was remained unspoken. There were reasons, of course. She had been instructed to keep it to herself. There was wisdom in that for a time. But I could not shake the question.

Not about Esther… about us.

It made me wonder how often we, “nice Christian women,” do the same thing, not out of fear for our safety, but out of a quieter, more socially acceptable kind of hesitation. We tend to soften our language and keep certain parts of our faith tucked away. We avoid saying the name of Jesus in spaces where it might feel uncomfortable or misunderstood. We tell ourselves we are being respectful, that everyone is on their own journey.

And there is truth in that. God meets each of us personally, and I believe we’re all moving on our own timeline.

But faith doesn’t tend to grow in silence.

People don’t typically come to know the love of Jesus in a vacuum. They see it in someone. They feel it through someone. They are drawn in by the peace, the steadiness, the quiet joy that does not quite make sense apart from Him. Faith is lived before it is fully understood, and it is often witnessed before it is chosen.

And if I am honest, this is not just something I am observing. It is something I am feeling.

Lately, I have had this quiet but persistent sense that I am being called out by God. Not loudly. Not in a way that demands attention from anyone else. But steadily. Circumstances keep lining up. Conversations happen where people say exactly what I needed to hear, even when they do not know they are saying it. Moments repeat themselves in a way that feels far too intentional to ignore.

I would have to bury my head in the sand not to notice. And what I am noticing is this gentle but unmistakable invitation to stop holding parts of my faith so closely and to begin living it a little more openly… not perfectly… not forcefully. But honestly.

When I read Esther’s story, I am reminded that there comes a moment when what is hidden can no longer remain so. Chapter four shifts everything. The risk becomes real. The stakes become clear. Esther is faced with a choice. She can remain quiet and safe, or she can step forward and be known.

“For such a time as this.”

Her identity and her calling meet in the same place.

I cannot help but wonder where that same invitation is waiting for us. Not in a grand, dramatic gesture, but in the small, daily moments where we feel the nudge to speak, to name what we believe, and to live in a way that reflects the One we follow.

Where am I blending in when I have been called to stand in truth?

Where have I stayed quiet when I felt the invitation to speak?

What would it look like to let myself be known, not in a way that pressures or persuades, but in a way that simply reflects the goodness I have found?

Esther did not stay hidden forever.

And maybe the question is not how they did not know.

Maybe the question is: When will we choose to be known?

Be Happy 🧡