Crying Out
In October 2017, the day after what was then the worst mass shooting in America, Bishop Joseph Pepe of Las Vegas hosted a prayer service to mourn the 59 dead, to pray for the more than 500 injured. More than 800 people attended.[1]
When we are crushed by affliction, we instinctively cry out to the Almighty. We often do not know what else to do. Unable to make sense of what’s happened on earth, we reach out to heaven.
We empathize with the words of the psalmist:
1 With my voice I cry out to the Lord; with my voice I plead for mercy to the Lord. 2 I pour out my complaint before him; I tell my trouble before him. (Ps. 142:1-2 ESV)
When we are crushed by affliction, we instinctively cry out to the Almighty.
More than 800 cried out the day after Stephen Paddock fired multiple rounds into the crowd of concert goers in Las Vegas. Prior to the event, as hurricanes Harvey, Irma and Maria slammed into cities and souls, thousands cried out to God. After the event, as fires stormed through California, thousands more cried out to God.
When we are crushed by affliction, we cry out to the Almighty. It’s our first move in times of pain.
But what does God do when we cry out like this? What is his first move?
God’s Passover Reply
The psalmist’s same word is found in the mouths of the Israelites who faced suffering. A category 5 hurricane slammed into their lives in the form of slavery. Afflicted, they cried out:
During those many days the king of Egypt died, and the people of Israel groaned because of their slavery and cried out for help. Their cry for rescue from slavery came up to God. (Ex. 2:23 ESV)
They Israelites beg God for relief, for rescue. They scream for divine assistance.
God hears their cry. And in this particular instance, he replies in a peculiar way. God responds to their pain with a Passover:
11b It is the Lord’s Passover. 12 For I will pass through the land of Egypt that night, and I will strike all the firstborn in the land of Egypt, both man and beast; and on all the gods of Egypt I will execute judgments: I am the Lord. 13 The blood shall be a sign for you, on the houses where you are. And when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and no plague will befall you to destroy you, when I strike the land of Egypt…26 And when your children say to you, ‘What do you mean by this service?’ 27 you shall say, ‘It is the sacrifice of the Lord’s Passover, for he passed over the houses of the people of Israel in Egypt, when he struck the Egyptians but spared our houses.’” (Ex. 12:11b-13, 26-27 ESV)
In times of affliction, when we cry out to the Almighty, sometimes he responds with Passover–a personal and extraordinary means of addressing the source of our pain.
Passover is filled with the extraordinary ways in which God works against evil. God takes matters into his own two hands:
- I will strike all the firstborn in the land
- I will execute judgments
- I will strike the land of Egypt
In Passover each year after this, the Israelites would celebrate how the Lord struck the Egyptians. God operated in a supernatural way to defeat the source of their suffering.
This is often how we long for God to respond to our cries during times of trouble. We hope for a Passover response.
As Hurricane Irma was steaming toward Florida, dozens of believers stood on the beach in Jacksonville, Florida and cried out for their own version of Passover. They prayed that God would miraculously still the storm in the same way Jesus stilled the storm on the Sea of Galilee.[2]
In times of pain, we often cry out in hopes of a Passover–a personal and extraordinary movement of God to address the source of our suffering.
Sometimes this is just what God provides. He takes matters into his own two hands. He cancels the cancer. He diffuses the family division. He stills the storm.
God’s Purim Reply
But many times he doesn’t. Frequently God does not reply to our cry with a Passover. More often he responds in a different way. When we reach out in times of pain, we are more likely to find God reacting not with a Passover but with a Purim.
The psalmist’s word, and the Israelite’s word, is also found in the mouth of a man named Mordecai who wailed his hurt to heaven:
When Mordecai learned all that had been done, Mordecai tore his clothes and put on sackcloth and ashes, and went out into the midst of the city, and he cried out with a loud and bitter cry. 2 He went up to the entrance of the king’s gate, for no one was allowed to enter the king’s gate clothed in sackcloth. 3 And in every province, wherever the king’s command and his decree reached, there was great mourning among the Jews, with fasting and weeping and lamenting, and many of them lay in sackcloth and ashes. 4 When Esther’s young women and her eunuchs came and told her, the queen was deeply distressed. (Est. 4:1-4 ESV)
Mordecai has just learned that Haman, the second-in-command in Persia, intends to put to death every Jew in the land. Using the psalmist’s word, Mordecai, facing the storm of suffering bearing down upon his people because of their enemy Haman, cries out in agony. Just as the Israelites had done centuries ago in the face of their mortal enemy Egypt, so now Mordecai does. He cries out, presumably to God.
But God does not respond with another Passover.
Instead, in a bitter twist of irony regarding Passover, the news of Haman’s death sentence on the Jews is sent out on the eve of Passover.[3] As faithful and fraught people had done for centuries, Mordecai cried out as he was being crushed. But there would be no Passover to resolve his pain. They could celebrate how God moved in personal and extraordinary ways to cease suffering in the past. But in the present, God would move in a more mysterious way. This time, as the cry of the crushed reached his ears, the response would not be a Passover–it would be a Purim:
And an edict was written, according to all that Mordecai commanded concerning the Jews…saying that the king allowed the Jews who were in every city to gather and defend their lives, to destroy, to kill, and to annihilate any armed force of any people or province that might attack them, children and women included, and to plunder their goods, 12 on one day throughout all the provinces of King Ahasuerus, on the thirteenth day of the twelfth month, which is the month of Adar. (Est. 8:9-12 ESV)
9 Now in the twelfth month, which is the month of Adar, on the thirteenth day of the same, when the king’s command and edict were about to be carried out, on the very day when the enemies of the Jews hoped to gain the mastery over them, the reverse occurred: the Jews gained mastery over those who hated them. 2 The Jews gathered in their cities throughout all the provinces of King Ahasuerus to lay hands on those who sought their harm. And no one could stand against them, for the fear of them had fallen on all peoples. (Est. 9:1-2 ESV)
20 And Mordecai recorded these things and sent letters to all the Jews who were in all the provinces of King Ahasuerus, both near and far, 21 obliging them to keep the fourteenth day of the month Adar and also the fifteenth day of the same, year by year, 22 as the days on which the Jews got relief from their enemies, and as the month that had been turned for them from sorrow into gladness and from mourning into a holiday; that they should make them days of feasting and gladness, days for sending gifts of food to one another and gifts to the poor. (Est. 9:20-22 ESV)
24 For Haman the Agagite, the son of Hammedatha, the enemy of all the Jews, had plotted against the Jews to destroy them, and had cast Pur (that is, cast lots), to crush and to destroy them…26 Therefore they called these days Purim, after the term Pur. (Est. 9:24-26 ESV)
When we are crushed by affliction and we cry out to the Almighty, God may rarely respond with a Passover–an extraordinary and personal movement to cease our suffering. God may more routinely respond as he did in Esther, with a Purim–an ordinary and more impersonal act to topple our tribulation.
In a Passover way, God could have sent a plague on the Persian soldiers as they slept the night prior to the battle. Instead, in a Purim way, God simply inspired Mordecai and Esther to write a letter granting the Jews permission to defend themselves against Haman’s death squad, and God emboldened the Jews to fight for their survival.
No Passover plague.
No heavenly hands-on happenings.
Just plain old Purim political maneuvering.
Just popular level Purim self-defense.
Anyone looking from the outside in at Passover would be led to believe it could only be the work of a divine Maker: a climactic plague that persuaded Israel’s most vile villain to free them from slavery.
Anyone looking from the outside in at Purim would be led to believe it was only the work mortals: a savvy queen, her astute adopted father and dauntless Jewish soldiers–not a single mention of God. Yet Purim unapologetically suggests that this work of humans was nonetheless the work of heaven. The book of Esther reveals that God’s answer to our agony is more often ordinary than extraordinary, more frequently mundane than miraculous, more often secular than sacred.
Our Lot in Life
This is seen in the meaning of the word “Purim”:
24 For Haman the Agagite, the son of Hammedatha, the enemy of all the Jews, had plotted against the Jews to destroy them, and had cast Pur (that is, cast lots), to crush and to destroy them…26 Therefore they called these days Purim, after the term Pur. (Est. 9:24-26 ESV)
The words “pur” and “Purim” are not Hebrew words. They refer to the lots which Haman cast, like die, to determine the will of the gods concerning the date on which the Jews should die. The Hebrew word “lot” is used often in the Old Testament. They Jews used it in much the same way we used it today. When we say “”That’s my lot in life” what do we mean? We mean that God has so willed this circumstance. God has worked in our life to bring us this situation.
Similarly, in the festival of Purim the Jews interpreted what had happened as their “lot”–their divine assignment or portion, given them by God. Rather than being given a supernatural miracle, their lot had been a politically savvy queen, an astute adopted father, and courageous soldiers. Ordinary things in the ancient world. But heavenly gifts nonetheless. It had had not been their lot to get a Passover in the face of pain. Instead their lot had been to get something far more routine and mundane. And to commemorate that, they called it “Purim” after the word “pur” or lot. The book of Esther, through the festival of Purim, is saying that it is often our lot in life, to have God address the pain and sorrow in our life in ways that are ordinary and routine.
And this may be hard for us to swallow, especially in the face of suffering. Because we want a radical God and an extraordinary experience of faith. When it comes to times of trouble, the lot we want is something more like Passover. Michael Horton writes this in his book Ordinary:[4]
“Ordinary” has to be one of the loneliest words in our vocabulary today. Who wants a bumper sticker that announces to the neighborhood, “My child is an ordinary student at Bubbling Brook Elementary”? Who wants to be that ordinary person who lives in an ordinary town, is a member of an ordinary church, and has ordinary friends and works an ordinary job? Our life has to count! We have to leave our mark, have a legacy, and make a difference. And all of this should be something that can be managed, measured, and maintained. We have to live up to our Facebook profile. It’s one of the newer versions of salvation by works.”
“Today we feel the pressure to have our weddings look like the cover of a bridal magazine or movie set. Our marriages have to be made in heaven, even though we’re very much on earth. Our presentations at work have to dazzle. Our kids have to make the dean’s list and get into the best graduate schools … nothing short of “brilliant” and “groundbreaking” will satisfy if you want a good job. When we do stop and smell the roses, it has to be an unforgettable package at an amazing resort. It’s not enough to enjoy recreation at the public park, but extreme sports are what really interest us.”
What we long for is extreme and extraordinary–especially when it comes to faith and spirituality. This may be doubly true when we face affliction. We long for God to respond to our cries with another Passover. That’s the lot we want. But Esther reveals that often what God grants is more routine and ordinary. Often what God gives is Purim. God determines to respond to pain and problems by working through normal people.
Gifts of Food
The book drills the point home by revealing how the Jews would give gifts of food on the days of Purim:
19 Therefore the Jews of the villages, who live in the rural towns, hold the fourteenth day of the month of Adar as a day for gladness and feasting, as a holiday, and as a day on which they send gifts of food to one another. 20 And Mordecai recorded these things and sent letters to all the Jews who were in all the provinces of King Ahasuerus, both near and far, 21 obliging them to keep the fourteenth day of the month Adar and also the fifteenth day of the same, year by year, 22 as the days on which the Jews got relief from their enemies, and as the month that had been turned for them from sorrow into gladness and from mourning into a holiday; that they should make them days of feasting and gladness, days for sending gifts of food to one another and gifts to the poor. (Est. 9:19-22 ESV)
The word “gifts” is translated earlier in Esther as “portion” (Est. 2:9). It’s the same root word used by David:
5 Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup; you make my lot secure. 6 The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. (Ps. 16:5-6 NIV)
David uses “portion” here as a synonym for “lot.”[5]
Thus, during the festival of Purim, as the Jews took gifts/ portions/ lots of food to those suffering from poverty, those very gifts reminded them that it had been their lot in life to have God address their affliction in simple and humble ways.
But the gifts to the poor take it one step further. Each time they took these gifts/ portions/ lot of food to someone suffering in poverty, they become part of that person’s lot in life. They became part of the way God was continuing to work in simple and humble ways to address pain and sorrow in the world. In the offering of a routine meal to a hungry person, they became part of God’s work to address trouble and affliction in the world.
Purim literally means that when it comes to trying times, it is usually our lot to find God not responding miraculously by working through wonders but responding mundanely by performing through people as they bring food to the hungry, adopt an orphaned child as Mordecai had adopted Esther, push the cogs of government to gain justice, or simply stand when others scram. The book of Esther teaches that God’s normal approach to our affliction is not to spectacularly still the storm or finish off the foe. God’s routine approach to our tribulation is instead to humbly send average folks into the fray to make a difference in their own simple yet significant way.
A Flood of God’s Love
This was the point, it seems, of The Christian Chronicle, when, on the front page of its October edition the headline read “After Hurricanes, A Flood of God’s Love.”[6] The paper, a circulation of Churches of Christ, carried stories the devastation wrought by the hurricanes in Texas and Florida in 2017. It went on to discuss the ways in which ordinary people and churches had provided shelter and recover and relief in the wake of the hurricanes in Florida and Texas:
“I couldn’t put it into words. They’ve treated us like we were royalty from some foreign country,” retired Army Col. Chuck Emmerich, 81, said after spending four nights in the Belton Church of Christ gymnasium, about 200 miles northwest of Houston.
Like the Belton church, the Champions Church of Christ — a Houston congregation that avoided flooding — transformed its building into an emergency shelter… “We were really homeless without any idea where we were,” Toni Sinclair said. “The church was so overwhelmingly warm and friendly. It just made me cry. They had a little kennel for our dog, and they brought us food,” she said through tears. “We hadn’t eaten in a day and a half. And they just continued to give to us and love us and share with us what we needed to do. And they gave us clothes and a shower.”
There was no reporting of mighty miracles from heaven. Just routine stories of average people and humble churches serving and making a difference. This was God’s Purim reply to affliction.
Purim is not an answer to the “why” of evil. But it is an answer to the what. What God does in the face of evil most often is send an orphaned girl who becomes a queen, commission a man to adopt an orphaned girl and raise her right, give courage to those whose knees are weak, inspire ordinary church members to turn church buildings into shelters. When the trials come, he responds sometimes with a Passover. More often he responds with a Purim.
Bob Goff in his book Love Does puts it this way:[7]
God..didn’t choose someone else to express his creative presence to the world…didn’t tap the rock star or the popular kid to get things done. He chose you and me. We are the means, the method, the object, and the delivery vehicles. God can use anyone, for sure. If you can shred on a Fender or won “Best Personality,” you’re not disqualified—it just doesn’t make you more qualified. You see, God usually chooses ordinary people like us to get things done.
[1] https://cruxnow.com/church-in-the-usa/2017/10/03/las-vegas-bishop-leads-interfaith-prayer-service-following-shooting/
[2] https://www.news4jax.com/weather/hurricane-irma/as-some-evacuate-ahead-of-hurricane-irma-others-stay-and-pray
[3] Est. 3:7-14
[4] Michael S. Horton, Ordinary: Sustainable Faith in a Radical, Restless World.
[5] Karen Jobes, Esther, The NIV Application Commentary 216.
[6] https://christianchronicle.org/issue/october-2017/
[7] Bob Goff, Love Does, ix-xi.
