The Lens I Use

I love studying the lives of the men and women on the pages of Scripture. I find the parts of their lives not necessarily intended to inform is where I linger most. In that sense, I come at scripture through my own lens. I trust it’s part of the learning process or God wouldn’t have spoken to us in story book form. So I don’t shy away from reading between the lines.

This week I spent with Esther. Oddly, it wasn’t Esther’s actions that piqued my curiosity, but rather the scene-setters surrounding her. I saw her for the first time as a bit of a pawn in the games other people were playing. I admit I wasn’t looking for God’s redemption. I was looking at people. I made a judgment on her cousin Mordecai that had me questioning his intentions. Particularly the choice he made not to bow down (as a show of respect to a political official) to Haman.

I saw this choice as a personal one. A bit of a pissing contest gone awry. He and Haman’s forefathers had long hated each other. So there was history between them. I didn’t cease to see Mordecai as a man of good character, just one whose action drew unnecessary attention to himself, thus endangering hundreds of thousands of lives. Lives that Esther would eventually be required to negotiate for, at great risk to herself. 

Perhaps he was refusing to bow because in doing so he would be denying his allegiance to the God he wholeheartedly served, which is what I always assumed. But the Scriptures don’t say that. It was left to interpretation.

And I had never before interpreted his choice as anything less than honorable. 

Until this week.

I shared what I’d written with the group of women I’m studying alongside. Though they appreciated the deeper discussion, they challenged my conclusions and gave entirely different perspectives.

It was a great exchange of thoughtful dialogue between serious women. 

Yet I left our time wondering if I was wrong. Not just coming at it from a differing viewpoint, but actually wrong. 

So I’ve been asking myself, why did I react to Mordecai like I did? Why did I question his motives? Why did I think “political oneupmanship” and not fearless integrity?

In short, my lens. 

I’ve been living in the backwash of other people’s decisions for awhile now. Men who claim to follow Christ same as I do whose “judgement calls” have greatly affected the trajectory of my life and left me feeling powerless. Reactionary. Two things I loathe feeling.

{I should also take a moment to confess, I’ve been binge-watching House of Cards. That Frank Underwood is one stone cold SOB. He’s as ruthless as any real or imaginary tyrant we know. I can’t ignore that these hours upon hours of intake have undoubtedly seeped into my subconscious, further complicating my motive-meter.}

But back to my fervent study of scripture  😉  

The correlation I subsequently drew between all these choices and lives (including my own) is that wrong doing, left unpunished, emboldens. Which is why we need accountability by way of community. Not only to safely share and find acceptance, but to be called out. Challenged. Especially those of us who lead. And we all lead.

Today I was.

Oh so gently and not at all intentionally, but challenged nonetheless. My lens is in need of mercy. I’ve been dwelling on the actions of others for a long, long time. It’s tainting my view of myself. And worse, of God. Even my circumstances (which one would think are fairly black and white) are subject to interpretation. Just depends on the viewfinder.

I do know one thing though…Esther was tossed from one dire situation to the next with truly no say in if she wanted what she was getting or not. But she proceeded through each one with grace, finding immense favor along the way. She stayed true to who she was, regardless of what others did or their reasons for doing it.

Come political gamesmanship in the name of Christ, hardball in the name of business or simply honest differences, that’s who I want to be. True. Guileless. Other people’s actions do and will continue to affect my life. Period. It would seem then that surrendering to this notion is not weakness but the first step toward maturity. 

Thank you sisters.