**The Night of Divine Providence: A Tale of Esther Chapter 6**
The city of Susa lay under a blanket of stars, the palace of King Ahasuerus silent save for the soft footsteps of servants and the occasional rustle of guards patrolling the courtyards. The king, however, could not sleep. Restlessness gripped him, and no amount of fine wine or the soothing melodies of his harpists could ease his mind. He tossed and turned on his golden bed, his thoughts swirling like the night winds outside. At last, he rose and called for his servants.
“Bring me the book of records, the chronicles of my reign,” he commanded. His voice echoed through the halls, and servants scurried to obey. They returned with a heavy scroll, its edges gilded, the parchment filled with the deeds of the king’s reign. The king settled into his throne, the flickering light of oil lamps casting long shadows on the walls. He began to read, his eyes scanning the entries of battles won, alliances forged, and the names of those who had served him faithfully.
As the hours passed, the king’s attention was drawn to an entry that recounted a plot against his life. Two of his chamberlains, Bigthan and Teresh, had conspired to assassinate him, but their scheme had been uncovered by a man named Mordecai, a Jew who served at the king’s gate. Mordecai had reported the plot to Queen Esther, who in turn had informed the king. The conspirators had been executed, and Mordecai’s loyalty had saved the king’s life.
The king frowned, his brow furrowing as he read further. “What honor or dignity has been bestowed on Mordecai for this?” he asked aloud, his voice tinged with concern. The servants exchanged uneasy glances. “Nothing has been done for him, my king,” one of them replied.
The king’s heart stirred with a sense of urgency. He could not let such a deed go unrewarded. “Who is in the court now?” he demanded. At that very moment, Haman, the king’s most trusted advisor, entered the outer court. Haman had come to seek the king’s permission to hang Mordecai on the gallows he had prepared. His heart burned with hatred for Mordecai, who refused to bow to him, and he could not wait to see his enemy destroyed.
The king’s voice rang out. “Who is in the court?” The servants answered, “Haman is standing in the court, my king.” “Let him come in,” the king commanded.
Haman entered, his chest swelling with pride. He had risen to great heights, second only to the king himself, and he relished the power he wielded. He bowed low before the king, his mind already racing with the words he would use to secure Mordecai’s execution.
The king looked at Haman and said, “What should be done for the man whom the king delights to honor?” Haman’s heart leaped. Surely the king was speaking of him! Who else could the king possibly wish to honor? Haman straightened, a smile playing on his lips as he considered the question.
“For the man whom the king delights to honor,” Haman began, his voice smooth and confident, “let a royal robe be brought, one that the king himself has worn, and a horse that the king has ridden, one with a royal crest on its head. Let one of the king’s most noble princes array the man in the robe and lead him on horseback through the city square, proclaiming before him, ‘Thus shall it be done to the man whom the king delights to honor!'”
The king nodded, pleased with the suggestion. “Go quickly,” he said, “and do as you have said for Mordecai the Jew, who sits at the king’s gate. Leave nothing undone of all that you have spoken.”
Haman’s face fell, his confidence shattered. Mordecai? The man he despised above all others? His stomach churned, and his hands trembled as he bowed and left the king’s presence. He hurried to carry out the king’s command, his heart heavy with humiliation.
The royal robe was brought, and the horse with the royal crest. Haman himself arrayed Mordecai in the robe and led him through the city square, crying out, “Thus shall it be done to the man whom the king delights to honor!” Mordecai sat tall and dignified, his face serene, while Haman’s cheeks burned with shame.
When the procession was over, Mordecai returned to the king’s gate, his heart at peace, knowing that the God of Israel had orchestrated these events. Haman, however, rushed home, his head covered in mourning. He recounted the day’s events to his wife and friends, his voice trembling with despair. “If Mordecai, before whom you have begun to fall, is of Jewish descent,” they said, “you will not prevail against him but will surely fall before him.”
As the sun set on that fateful day, the wheels of divine providence turned unseen, setting the stage for the deliverance of God’s people. The king’s sleepless night, the forgotten deed of Mordecai, and Haman’s prideful downfall were all threads woven together by the hand of the Almighty. In the shadows of the palace, the God of Israel was at work, ensuring that His purposes would prevail and His people would be saved.
