Welcome to The Daily. Today, I want to shout out Peter Merrill from Niceville, FL. Thanks for being a Project23 donor. We cannot do this without you. Read more about Project23. Our text today is Esther 2:5-7 Now there was a Jew in Susa the citadel whose name was Mordecai, the son of Jair, son of Shimei, son of Kish, a Benjaminite, who had been carried away from Jerusalem among the captives carried away with Jeconiah king of Judah, whom Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon had carried away. He was bringing up Hadassah, that is Esther, the daughter of his uncle, for she had neither father nor mother. The young woman had a beautiful figure and was lovely to look at, and when her father and her mother died, Mordecai took her as his own daughter. — Esther 2:5-7 Esther's story begins not with a crown, but with loss. Before she was known as Esther, she was Hadassah, an orphan being raised by her cousin Mordecai. Her family had already experienced displacement, captivity, and grief before she ever entered the palace. Mordecai was living in Susa, far from Jerusalem, because his family had been carried into exile. Then Esther lost both of her parents, and Mordecai took her into his home and raised her as his own daughter. Scripture does not skip over these painful details as it moves toward Esther's future. It shows us where her story began. We should not romanticize her suffering. The death of her parents was not simply a plot device meant to make her stronger. She lost the people who were supposed to protect and guide her. God's sovereignty does not make suffering good in itself, but it does assure us that suffering will not have the final word. Many of us carry painful parts of our own stories: a death, divorce, abandonment, addiction, failure, or a season when someone hurt us and left us with consequences we did not choose. It is understandable to wonder whether those experiences have ruined us. Esther's story reminds us that our past can shape us without defining us. It may explain some things about us, but it does not own us. The worst thing that happened to us is not the truest thing about us. I understand something of what it means to need someone to make room for you. When I was 15, my grandfather welcomed me into his home. That act of love and care reminds me of the way Mordecai opened his home to Esther. He could not undo everything she had lost, but he could give her a safe place to belong. God also provided care for Esther through Mordecai. He could not undo the exile or bring her parents back, but he could open his home, accept responsibility, and love her as his own daughter. In the same way, God often works through ordinary people who faithfully care for others. A relative makes room, a friend stays present, a pastor listens, or a family offers support. Through those simple acts of love, God reminds us that we do not have to carry our pain alone. Before Esther was placed in a position of public influence, God provided someone to care for her in private. He was present not only in what he would eventually ask her to do, but also in what she had already endured. The gospel gives us an even deeper assurance. In Christ, we are not only forgiven; we are adopted. God brings us near, calls us his children, and gives us a new identity and inheritance. Our pain may remain part of our story, but it does not have the authority to name us. We are not defined by what we have lost or by what has been done to us. We belong to God. Esther could not yet see the palace, the crisis, or the deliverance that lay ahead. She knew only the life she had already lived, while God was quietly preparing the next part of her story. He can do the same with ours. The pain of our past may be real, but it is not beyond God's ability to redeem. DO THIS: Name one painful part of your past that you have allowed to define you. Write beneath it: This is part of my story, but it is not my identity. I belong to God. ASK THIS: What pain still defines me? What has God provided through it? Who needs my faithful care? PRAY THIS: Father, redeem the painful parts of my story and help me live from the identity you have given me in Christ. Amen. PLAY THIS: More Than Able.
