The Daily + Weekly by Vince Miller

Welcome to The Daily. Today, I want to shout out Daniel Moroney from Granby, MA. Thanks for being a Project23 donor. We cannot do this without you. Read more about Project23. Our text today is Esther 2:12-14 Now when the turn came for each young woman to go in to King Ahasuerus, after being twelve months under the regulations for the women, since this was the regular period of their beautifying, six months with oil of myrrh and six months with spices and ointments for women—when the young woman went in to the king in this way, she was given whatever she desired to take with her from the harem to the king's palace. In the evening she would go in, and in the morning she would return to the second harem in custody of Shaashgaz, the king's eunuch, who was in charge of the concubines. She would not go in to the king again, unless the king delighted in her and she was summoned by name. — Esther 2:12-14 A particular kind of pain comes from realizing someone values you only for what you can provide. Your work. Your money. Your influence. Your body. Your availability. Your ability to solve their problems. As long as you are useful, they want you close. But when your usefulness ends, so does their interest. That is the painful reality behind today's scripture. Each young woman spent twelve months preparing for one sexual escapade with King Ahasuerus. Six months with oil of myrrh. Six months with spices and ointments. Then she entered the king's bedroom one evening. By morning, she was moved to a second harem. Unless Ahasuerus summoned her by name, she might be canceled forever. Scripture describes this process, but it does not celebrate it. These women were assessed by their appearance and their ability to sexually please a powerful leader. Once the king had taken what he wanted, their virginity, they were moved aside and left waiting. Women were reduced to objects for personal pleasure. Maybe you have felt this way too. You work for someone who cares more about your output than your care. You have a friend who only calls when they need something. You serve in a ministry where people appreciate your gifts but rarely inquire about your soul. Listen carefully: being needed can initially feel like being loved. But they are not the same. Sometimes people need what we can do without caring about who we are. And if we are not careful, we can begin measuring our worth the way they do. We assume we matter because we are—productive, attractive, available, successful, or strong. Then the moment we don't perform, we wonder whether we still have value. And they do too. But your value is not equal to your usefulness. God definitely works through your gifts, but he never treats you as a disposable tool. He created you in his image. He knows you completely. He cares about your heart, your pain, your limitations, and your needs. King Ahasuerus took virginity from these women for his own sexual pleasure out of a law he instituted from his own insecurity. King Jesus did the opposite. He fulfilled the law to eradicate sin to give us life, gifts, a Spirit, and new bodies for a new earth. He did not come to take from people but to give his life as a ransom for many. Now this does not mean every difficult relationship is exploitation. Love in any relationship requires sacrifice, service, and patience. But genuine love does not steal your dignity or treat you like an object. So pay attention when you feel continually used. You may need a healthy boundary, wise counsel, or help from someone you trust. And we should also examine the other side of this equation. Are we valuing people only for what they do for us? Do we see the employee, the spouse, the volunteer, the friend, and the family member—or only the benefit they provide? People are not products or objects. They are image-bearers. And that includes you. DO THIS: Name one relationship where you feel valued mainly for what you provide. Share it with a trusted, spiritually mature person and identify one healthy next step. ASK THIS: Where do I feel used? Have I confused being needed with being loved? Am I treating anyone as useful instead of valuable? PRAY THIS: Father, remind me that my worth is not based on what I provide, and teach me to treat others with the dignity you have given them. In Jesus' name, amen. PLAY THIS: Known.

Welcome to The Daily. Today, I want to shout out Michael Meyer from Wichita, KS. Thanks for being a Project23 donor. We cannot do this without you. Read more about Project23. Our text today is Esther 2:8-11 So when the king's order and his edict were proclaimed, and when many young women were gathered in Susa the citadel in custody of Hegai, Esther also was taken into the king's palace and put in custody of Hegai, who had charge of the women. And the young woman pleased him and won his favor. And he quickly provided her with her cosmetics and her portion of food, and with seven chosen young women from the king's palace, and advanced her and her young women to the best place in the harem. Esther had not made known her people or kindred, for Mordecai had commanded her not to make it known. And every day Mordecai walked in front of the court of the harem to learn how Esther was and what was happening to her. — Esther 2:8-11 Some seasons of our life don't ask for your permission. We are thrust into them. Esther did not apply for a position in the palace. She was taken. A Jewish orphan living in exile, she was taken by a powerful emperor without knowing what would happen next. Her options were limited, her future uncertain, and her identity hidden. Yet Esther found favor with Hegai, who provided for her and gave her the best available place in the harem. The system was still broken, but God had not lost sight of her within it. God's providence does not mean everything that happens to us is good. It means nothing can place us beyond his reach. Some situations we would never choose: an unexpected diagnosis, job loss, a broken marriage, a family crisis, or a decision made without our consent. We may ask, How do I get out of this? Yes, sometimes leaving is right and required. Trusting God does not mean tolerating abuse, ignoring danger, or refusing help. But when we cannot immediately change our circumstances, we should ask a different question, one posed to Esther: How can I honor God while I am here? God rarely gives us the entire map. I wish he did. Usually what he does is show us the next faithful step: tell the truth, receive help, ask for wisdom, do today's work, and trust him with tomorrow. Esther could not control the king's decree or the system surrounding her. But she could respond wisely and remain faithful with the choices still available to her. Mordecai also reminds us that God's care often comes through people who cannot fix our situation but refuse to disappear. Every day, he walked near the court to learn how Esther was doing. Jesus understands what it means to be handed over to powerful people. He willingly entered suffering and entrusted himself to the Father. He knows how to meet us when we feel powerless. Esther did not yet know how God would use her position. She only knew where she was—and God was already there. Today your circumstances may limit your options, but they cannot cancel God's presence. You may not be able to choose where you are today, but you can choose your next faithful step. So do that today. DO THIS: Divide a page into two columns: What I Cannot Control and What I Can Do Faithfully. Surrender the first column to God, then act on one item in the second. ASK THIS: What situation did I not choose? What can I still control? What is my next faithful step? PRAY THIS: Father, meet me in the circumstances I did not choose and give me wisdom and courage to take the next faithful step. Amen. PLAY THIS: Trust In God.

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.

Welcome to The Daily. Today, I want to shout out Justin Marshall from Brewton, AL. Thanks for being a Project23 donor as we continue teaching through every book of the Bible for over 23 years. We cannot do this without you. Read more about Project23. Our text today is Esther 2:1-4 After these things, when the anger of King Ahasuerus had abated, he remembered Vashti and what she had done and what had been decreed against her. Then the king's young men who attended him said, "Let beautiful young virgins be sought out for the king. And let the king appoint officers in all the provinces of his kingdom to gather all the beautiful young virgins to the harem in Susa the citadel, under custody of Hegai, the king's eunuch, who is in charge of the women. Let their cosmetics be given them. And let the young woman who pleases the king be queen instead of Vashti." This pleased the king, and he did so. — Esther 2:1-4 King Ahasuerus has finally calmed down. His anger has faded, and now he remembers Vashti, what she did, and the irreversible decree issued against her. He is missing his queen. So the emotional fire is quenched. But the consequences of his anger remain. So he is experiencing some regret. But regret is not repentance. They might initially feel similar. Both involve sadness, discomfort, and realizing something has gone wrong. Regret focuses on how a decision makes me feel. Repentance focuses on what I need to confess and change. I have had moments like this. I have cooled down after an argument, replayed a decision in my mind, and thought, I did not handle that well. And there is always a temptation in that moment. I can either take responsibility (repentance). Or I can simply emotionally move on without addressing what happened (regret). Moving on is what the king does. That's regret, not repentance. Even his attendants help him "move on." They propose gathering new, sexy, young, untouched women from across the empire so he can select another queen. This is not repentance. It is replacement. Since Vashti is gone, let's find another to replace her. Let's distract his regret with a new woman through an empire-wide sex contest. Thus they create a plan that helps him avoid facing the consequences. We do this more than we realize. Instead of admitting we were wrong, we change jobs, find a new spouse, switch churches, end the friendship, replace the relationship, or start something new. And yes, sometimes a change is necessary. But a new situation does not automatically produce a healed heart and reconciled actions. You may not be able to undo every bad decision. Some decisions have severe consequences. For example, Ahasuerus could not simply erase Persian law. You cannot unsay every word. You cannot remove every consequence. But you can confess honestly. You can apologize without defending yourself. You can learn. You can change direction. Jesus invites you to bring that issue or bad decision into the light, receive his forgiveness, and walk differently from here. Repentance declares, By God's grace, I will not keep doing this. Don't waste your regret by turning it into shame, distraction, or another quick solution. Let it lead you somewhere better. Let it lead you to repentance. DO THIS: Identify one decision you regret. Write down what is yours to confess, repair, or change, and take one practical step today. ASK THIS: What decision do I regret? What do I need to own? What must change going forward? PRAY THIS: Father, turn my regret into genuine repentance and give me courage to take responsibility and walk in a new direction. Amen. PLAY THIS: His Mercy Is More.

Welcome to The Daily. Today, I want to give a shout-out to Robert Heath from Alpharetta, GA. Thanks for being a Project23 donor as we teach through every book of the Bible over 23 years. We cannot do this without you. Read more about Project23. Our text today is Esther 1:21-22 This advice pleased the king and the princes, and the king did as Memucan proposed. He sent letters to all the royal provinces, to every province in its own script and to every people in its own language, that every man be master in his own household and speak according to the language of his people. — Esther 1:21-22 The king tried to save face—and ended up sending his shame across the entire empire. He issued official letters to all 127 provinces, translated into every local script and language, declaring that every man should be master of his household. This escalation is almost comical. He cannot command respect in his own palace, so he issues an empire-wide decree telling every other man to take control of his home. But we all know respect cannot be legislated. You can demand compliance, but you cannot command affection. You can force someone to obey outwardly, but you cannot make them honor you inwardly. Real authority is earned through godly character. And for some reason, Ahasuerus believes this decree will restore his dignity. Instead, it broadcasts his insecurity across the known world. Yet God is doing something beneath all this blatant foolishness. A royal position is now vacant. No one yet realizes how this ridiculous decree will become one small step in a much larger story of deliverance and the entrance of another woman—Esther. And God is never mentioned. That is what makes Esther's story so powerful. God does not announce what he is doing. There is no prophet. No miracle. No voice from heaven. Chapter one ends with political overreaction, wounded pride, bad advice, and a foolish decree. But God is still working. I know I prefer God's providence when it looks like a clear plan. I struggle when it looks like confusion, disappointment, or delay. I want to see how the pieces fit before I trust the God arranging them. But God's silence is not his absence. Let me say that again: God's silence is not his absence in our lives. God can work through anything—even decisions he does not endorse. He can redirect the consequences of human pride. He can use closed doors, changed plans, and even the foolish choices of powerful people to position his people for his purposes. The cross is the evidence. Political leaders, religious authorities, and an angry crowd believed they were eliminating Jesus. Yet through their sinful choices, God accomplished our salvation. Human evil did not defeat his plan—it unknowingly served it. Maybe your life feels like Esther 1 right now. Someone made a decision you did not choose. A door closed without explanation. People in power over you are acting foolishly. And God appears silent. But the story isn't over. It may just be chapter one. Even when you don't see God's hand or plan, you can still trust his promised deliverance. DO THIS: Name one situation that feels chaotic or unresolved. Write beneath it: God may be silent, but he is not absent. Then take the next faithful step you know to take. ASK THIS: Where does life feel out of control? Am I confusing silence with absence? What is my next faithful step? PRAY THIS: Father, help me trust your hidden providence when I cannot yet understand what you are doing. Amen. PLAY THIS: Sovereign Over Us.