Anna laces her fingers through mine and I look down at the little girl in the white dress and she is no queen Esther in the palace. I am.
I am sitting at a Compassion project in Africa, sitting with all the Mordecais in sackcloth outside the palace gate. We’re the ones inside the palace gate.
I am sitting in Uganda and all I can hear pounding in my head is Mordecai’s message to Esther:
“Don’t think for a moment that because you’re in the palace you will escape when all your people suffer. If you keep quiet at a time like this, deliverance and relief will arise from some other place, but you and yours will die.” There are a thousand ways for your soul to die, to be the living dead.
You can look into eyes and hear the whisper from those outside the gate:
“You’ve got to use the life you’ve been given to give others life. If your life isn’t about giving relief — you don’t get real life. What does it profit a man to gain the whole world, but lose his own soul?”
You have got to use your position inside the gate for those outside the gate – or you’re in the position of losing everything.
There are a thousand ways to be the living dead.
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