Esther, Delilah, and the Power of a Woman

Note: This post is part of a series of posts on marriage/relationships. I pray that this "mini-series" would be a blessing to you! Please feel free to share any of your own thoughts in the comments; I would love to hear them! 


If you are new to this series, you can find the Introduction HERE, Part 1 HERE , Part 2 HERE, and Part 3 HERE.

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Our Pastor has been going through the book of Esther on Sunday mornings. I've really been enjoying this series and it has prompted me to think about the character of Esther  
and her flint-like obedience to God's direction in her life at any cost. 

I remember a film that I watched years ago about Queen Esther. I was so disappointed in it because instead of portraying Esther as a beautiful woman strong in conviction and in her God, she was portrayed as flimsy, overly-girly, and trite--characteristics that I never imagined in a woman willing to risk her life to save her people. 

Esther, the biblical Esther, was a strong woman, a beautiful woman, a woman of hope and grace, a woman who stood firm in the greatest difficulty. 

There is strength in gentleness and true conviction. There is strength in obedience and trust in God. There is strength in waiting and prayer and quietness and then finally, action. 

Esther displays all of these virtues in a beautiful, mysterious way. She captivates the king not only with her physical attractiveness, but with her gentle, quiet spirit. She also captivates the king with her strength of character and willingness to place her own life in danger to save her people. 

In other words, she feared Almighty God more than the King of Persia. What an example to us. 

Esther's people, the Jews, were in grave danger. Their lives were threatened by a wicked man, Haman, who wanted to completely and Satanically, obliterate them. 

And so Esther, in a position of power, was called upon. With dignity, grace, and determination, she accepted the plea of her Uncle Mordecai to approach the king and to plead for the lives of the Jewish people. 

She went to the king, risking her own life.

And then, Queen Esther used no manipulation, no formula, no pouting or whimpering or beating around the bush when she made her argument. She refused to grovel. 

She sensitively laid out her case, using the means of fasting and prayer, showing that her trust was ultimately in God, not in an earthly king. 

There is a mystical, spiritual power behind a woman whose hope is in the Lord. And that power is the Holy Spirit, alive and working in and through her to accomplish the will of the Father.

The man heard Esther. Both kings, Heavenly and earthly, stooped to her plea. 

Esther and her people were safe. 

The will of the Father was accomplished. Her people were saved and the enemy vanquished. 

There is something to be said here also for King Xerxes. He could have ignored Esther. He could have pridefully refused to hear her. But he didn't; his heart was moved--the work of the Father God and his own willingness to listen to a woman offering him wisdom. I believe that the beauty of Esther's spirit had softened his heart--and this was all orchestrated by the Lord. But he could have chosen not to be softened. 

And I speak to the woman here who thinks--but I've done that! I've tried to walk with the Lord in dignity and honesty and trust. Not perfectly, but in obedience to the Father. I've tried to walk with the Lord as Esther did, and my husband still will not listen to me when I offer him wisdom.

The only answer here is that there is no guarantee. There is no guarantee that a husband will listen.  And this is where our relationship with Jesus Christ comes before even that most intimate relationship with our husband. Because Christ is our Heavenly Husband --and our ultimate aim must be to please Him, leaving our husband's heart in His hands and moving forward with the Lord in obedient trust and walking uprightly with the Father. Even if he will not listen. The Lord will honor your obedience, as painful as that situation is . . . 

Another strong woman comes to mind. 

The woman Delilah--the woman partly responsible for Samson's downfall and shame. The woman whose honey-lips and tantalizing perfume lured Samson to his demise. The woman who stole Samson's heart away from his Heavenly Father for a season. 

The woman who Samson just could not resist . . . and yet, could have, had he made different choices leading up to her betrayal. 

Delilah used her female charms to pull the so-called "wool" over Samson's eyes, to shroud his heart and to dampen his discernment and resolve. 

We are often "hard" on Delilah, but sometimes I wonder if she did what she did partly out of fear. Was her own life threatened by bloodthirsty Philistines who wanted nothing but Samson's utter downfall? They knew of her intimate connection with Samson and were probably threatening Delilah's life--perhaps that of her family, too. 

It is natural to act out of fear when our hope is not in God. 

So, although this does not excuse Delilah's actions, we may certainly relate to them . . . 

How did Delilah get what she wanted? Through careful manipulation. 

The difference between Esther and Delilah is extremely important to note--and this can be so helpful to us in our relationships with our husbands and in general. Delilah acted insincerely, underhandedly, deceitfully. Esther acted sincerely, transparently, with complete honesty and openness. 

Esther's dependence and hope were in God--not in her beauty, not in the power of her words, not in her power to manipulate the king in any way, but ultimately and utterly, in God. 

Whether she lived or died. Whether her husband thought well of her or not. Whether she pleased him ultimately or not.

Her hope and strength were in God. 

Delilah's dependence was upon the opposite--upon herself--upon her own powers of manipulation. She used every female "trick" she could muster--whining, pouting, sex, employing her attractiveness and allurement to deceive and destroy. She acted out of selfishness and fear, with no real love in her heart for the man that she gave herself so completely to (and yet, didn't). 

Many men can be won in this way. There is a Satanic power behind deceit and manipulation and using sex as a tool to "encourage" a man to do what we want them to do. 

But this is not the way of Jesus. 

Someone may think, "Well, didn't Esther also manipulate her situation in some way? She dressed as attractively as possible in order to persuade the king and to present her case, she prepared elaborate banquets for him to enjoy and tried her best to ensure that the mood was right for her to address him--isn't that manipulation?"

But the key difference between Esther and Delilah's methods is that Esther didn't use deceit to hide her real motives. Esther was open and honest with no trace of deceit. Delilah's motives were carefully concealed. 

There is a difference in manipulating a situation and being wise in the way that you present something. Was it wise for Esther to make sure that she looked as lovely as possible and anoint herself before going in to see the king? Of course. She wanted to show him how serious she was, how much she respected his authority and kingship. She wanted to make herself pleasing to him in order to present the truth, whereas Delilah made herself pleasing in order to feed a lie to Samson for her own gain. Esther used her beauty and careful approach in order to soften the king's heart, not in order to deceive him. 

The Lord used Esther's beauty and gentle, determined character to touch the heart of the king. 

There is a difference between wisdom and manipulation.  Ultimately, Esther's hope and trust were in God, and in His power and ability to move the heart of the king, not in her own resources of beauty and charm. Delilah relied upon herself, her powers of manipulation, and her ability to move a man's heart in the direction that she wanted it to go. 

Esther's spirit reflected truth and submission to God, whereas Delilah's reflected hidden motives and deceit--the very opposite.

I have read marriage advice--and it has so deeply disturbed me--from respected Christian sources that basically encourage women to manipulate their husbands. 

Treat your husband a certain way and he will love you. 

Use such and such a formula and your marriage will thrive.

Crown your husband king and he will make you his queen. 

It is never from the Lord to manipulate a situation, to attempt to turn a situation in our favor in our own strength apart from the Lord.

We do this in tiny and in great ways in our marriages--and I believe that it always produces frustration or complacency (in a man who knows he's being manipulated but doesn't want to make waves and so allows himself to be manipulated). 

Manipulation never produces that true and lasting peace and contentment that stems from trust in a great and merciful Savior. 

We want a situation to change so badly and we fall prey to advice, even from Christian marriage books.

But the truth is that manipulation only works temporarily and at best produces a false peace and security.

As women, it is so easy to fall prey to the temptation of using manipulation to get what we want. 

The difficult path is waiting on the Lord, as Esther did, trusting in His power and timing--relinquishing our fears into His all-loving hands. 

He is able to turn the heart of the king, to sustain us, to deliver. 

How should we interact with our husbands based upon the examples of Esther and Delilah?

With sincerity, with openness and honesty--prayerfully, our hope and trust in God. 

Not using manipulation or female charms to deceive and distract. 

With honor and dignity, trusting the love of the One who honors those who honor Him. 


Please join me for the next post, which is closely related to this one, next week. The Lord willing, I'll be dealing more in depth with the issue of women who are married to men who are not believers or men professing to be Christians but who are walking in their own way apart from the Lord and how we should respond to that difficulty. 









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Beauty is a Cross

I have to admit it; I Googled it more than once.

Did she have the baby, yet, I wondered? 

And was it a boy or a girl? 

And what was she wearing when she made her first appearance, precious, tiny baby-soul in arms, her husband dotingly beside her? 

I read an article in passing-- something about how she plans to regain her figure as soon as possible after having the baby, what she uses to prevent stretch marks, how she styles her hair so flawlessly, has such keen fashion sense... 

We can become caught up in things like this-- lives of famous people, lives of "beautiful" people, because they intrigue us, because they seem somehow "other" than us, because we just can't envision ourselves without swollen ankles  a few hours after delivering a baby, because maybe we gained just a few too many pounds, because maybe we're genetically prone to stretchmarks even if we didn't... 

And all of these things have been swirling in my mind, in between the taking care and the nurturing and the loving my two babies-- a two-and-a-half-year-old and an 11-month-old--

And I have to confess-- that I marveled a moment and thought, "How does she look so "together" right after having a baby?" 

Soon after, this thought came, too-- all of that, all of the perfection and the smooth hair and the flawless skin and the straight teeth and the attentive husband  gives an appearance of beauty--

But real beauty goes deeper, goes beyond-- all of these external things that fascinate us and that hold our attention for a moment. 

What is real beauty?

And immediately the image of the 21 men in orange suits came into my mind... the image of them kneeling on the beach, each one's lives taken for the sake of the cross of Jesus. 

Real beauty is a cross. 

And real beauty is taking up His cross daily, no matter the cost to ourselves. 

Real beauty is serving; real beauty is sacrificing and laying aside our own interests for the interests of others. 

Real beauty isn't about being in the spotlight, but in the shadows, pointing to Christ, decreasing that He may become more. 

Real beauty is worn hands from serving and washing dishes and washing clothing and washing babies-- the heavy, humbling work of love.

Real beauty is worn knees from praying and pleading and surrendering before the throne of grace. 

And real beauty isn't perfume and makeup and tailored clothing and toned arms and tanned legs. 

Real beauty is the nail-scarred hands of Jesus, taking our sin upon His shoulders.

Real beauty isn't a crown of gold, but a crown of thorns--a crown of surrender, of suffering, of dying--so that others may live. 

Real beauty is the missionary who has given his life to become "lost" in the eyes of this world, to be found by disease, hardship, pain and sacrifice. To suffer the loss of all things in order to gain what cannot be lost. 

Real beauty is pain that is transformed to glory by the grace of Christ.

Real beauty is Kara Tippetts and her long struggle to finally be made whole on the arms of Jesus.

Real beauty is suffering that is transformed into thankfulness, the joy that is hushed and bold and real and unshakable.

Real beauty is a cross. 

Real beauty is Jesus. 

We look at the things of this world, the things of this life, 

And we marvel at their sparkle and their shine and their glow.

These things will fade, leave us wanting, grasping at something that slips through our fingers, even though we lace them tightly together. 

We can't hold on to youth, or wealth, or fame, or strength. 

They fade.

It's when we relinquish all of these things into the loving, nail-scarred hands of Jesus that we gain life. 

Through death that we live.

Through suffering that we are sanctified.

We embrace Christ.

And in embracing, find real Beauty and live. 

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Beauty in the Dying

The fast-dimming sky peered back at me, unmoved and I drew my jacket around me closer, shuddering a little. 

November-brisk days and soon it will be too cold to bring my babies outside before supper. 

The trees seemed to stare at me, emotionless, and the dim, dull ache inside bit away at my sagging spirit. 

I looked above, and there was the great, strong tree in our backyard, stripped bare of almost all of its leaves, its glory quick-departing. 

I felt like that tree as I stared back at it, stared back at it against the backdrop of the unfeeling sky, oblivious to the cries of my soul. 

Felt like that tree stripped of its leaves - felt like it right down to the physical reality of shedding away almost half of my hair in the shower--great wet clumps every time I washed it, my strength seemingly stripped away and my body, tired and drained, all-spent from giving life to one baby after the other. 

Life. . . 

And the leaves lay on the ground, dying, while the world spun and I was lost in my thoughts of sorrow that seemed to swallow all of me up and spin me out there on the cold November ground among the lonely, life-stripped leaves.

Lost in my reverie, a baby sleeping peacefully against me, I could not shake myself from the sorrow-

The sorrow of tasting death there in cold November,

The sorrow that was robbing me of joy in the month of culminating thanksgiving. 

I could not shake away the sorrow, and my very body felt, was weary, drained, seeming-useless. 

Until a breath of warmth spoke, there to my lifeless heart among the fallen glory of the leaves--

There is a beauty in the dying---

And no, no, not in death, not in death itself, because death is cold and harsh and ugly - like the sparrow that I saw lying on the ground outside as I walked into church this morning, wet-washed and spit out of the night into that brisk November morning--

Death is ugly--

He remembers each sparrow that falls to the ground...

Beauty in the dying, in the all-abundant colors of the falling leaves spinning to the ground, their last glory bathing the earth in beauty. 

Beauty in surrender, in the giving, in the seed thrusting itself from the flower, falling, falling, dying, into the ground to be buried during the barren freeze of Winter. 

Beauty in the offering, in the sweet scent of the incense rising from the altar. 

Beauty in the dying. 

Death is swallowed up in victory.

So I sat outside today in November and the Lord spoke to me there where I was, among the dying leaves, into my own feelings of dying, of changing, of growing older, of letting my own life become lost in the lives of my babies, become a seed buried in the ground--

Though the outward man is perishing, yet the inward man is being renewed day by day... 

And the sweetness of that truth plucked away the bitter-sadness in my heart -

My outward person is perishing - my body is changing, growing older, slowly losing strength and youth--

But my inward person - being renewed day by day as He grows me in conformity to His dear Son - His Son who died -

Arms outstretched in giving life -

His death birthed my life -

And beauty sang for me in the dying.

I hear a robin. Then, in November, its sweet voice laughing through the pain, into the soon-coming dusk. 

The robin sang for me, for all of creation. 

Spring is coming, the great sweet Spring that will swallow up sadness and fear and death forever -

When every tear will be wiped away, and death will be swallowed up forever. 

Sang for me - beautiful in the dying day -

Sang of life eternal to my soul. 



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Why It's Really Not About Losing Ten Pounds

I lose to find. On forehead wide
The jewels tenfold light afford:
So, gathered round Thy glory, Lord,
All beauty else is glorified.

- George MacDonald

They were the last pair in a pile of about 20 and I pulled them on. 

The last pair in a pile of about 20 in a stuffy Saver's dressing stall -- and I was starting to sweat and starting to lament that only 2 had fit so far and starting to wonder who in the world decided that the limit of clothes that you could bring in should only be six and why in the world was this dressing room so small---

They slid on, like a glove. 

Finally, something that fits, I consoled myself. 

And then I looked down and noticed that I was wearing a pair of pants with a heart-sequin-design on the pocket (and that one of the sequins was missing) and that the button was a kind of fake diamond. 

Gulp. 

I guess I'll just take the first two, I thought with fatalistic dismay. 

And if I was the type that cries in fitting rooms, I would have cried -- but I'm not, so I just scooped up my meager findings and tried to think of what winter would be like if I could only fit in my leftover capris from summer. 

Because three months later, I'm still struggling to get this last bit of pregnancy weight under control... and sometimes it seems like a losing battle. 

And it's been frustrating to me -- I am someone who craves order and discipline and if something in my life feels like it's not under control, I am prone to fret about it and try to correct it as quickly as possible. 

Fret about it -- because I can't fit into my pre-pregnancy pants--

And we live in a society where body image has become all-important -- and these pesky ten pounds have made me take a step back to consider -- what is really important? 

And I look into my babies' faces -- all beautiful, made in the image of God -- and then I look down at the stretch marks adorning my belly and I accept them as a thing of beauty, a thing of sacrifice, the surrender of using my own body to give life to another. 

And I look at myself in the mirror, the few extra pounds hanging on, and my body doesn't look the same, doesn't feel the same as before I carried babies -- it's been stretched and worn and changed. 

I struggle with nursing -- I feel weak every day and I get the "shakes" and don't have the energy sometimes that I need -- maybe my body needs the extra calories right now, and I don't really need to worry about it so much... maybe. 

Because it's not really about weight -- It's a heart issue. 

And it's an issue of what real beauty is all about. 

Is real beauty about being a size 4 and about having toned arms and about trying to flatten my stomach and diminish my hip size as quickly as I can after giving birth? 

Is real beauty about having perfectly highlighted hair and perfectly manicured nails and perfect clothing and brilliantly white teeth?

And none of these things are "wrong" in and of themselves, but sometimes we can make them into idols when they become a necessity to us -- when we don't think that we can live without them, like we can't go on living without them. 

If we can't maintain them, then we feel like we have failed in some way, like we are not good enough. 

And I see women in their 50's and 60's trying to look like teenagers--

Wearing "skinny" jeans and starving themselves and working out at gyms, trying, desperately trying to hold on to the youth that is slipping through their fingers--

As my Mama says, "Whatever happened to growing old gracefully?"

And there is nothing wrong with dressing beautifully, or staying trim, or wearing perfume, or exercising. 

Discipline is a good thing, and our Heavenly Father desires that we live orderly, disciplined lives. 

But take it from someone who knows; even discipline can become an idol, when it's not hidden within the umbrella of love for our precious Heavenly Father, when we just do it for ourselves. 

I saw a woman the other day. Coming out of Target, and she was lovely. 

And she was not a size 4. 

Her appearance was not sloppy -- it spoke order and neatness and beauty; her hair was attractively pulled back in a ponytail; she wore a calf-length skirt with sandals. 

And her clothing wasn't chosen in order to draw attention to her body and she looked like she might have had a couple of kids or so -- and she certainly wasn't a size 4. 

Sometimes we can have a false idea of beauty. 

The world tells us that we need to be a certain size, that we need to flaunt our bodies in a certain way, that we need to do our hair in a specific style in order to be attractive, in order to attract. 

But how does Jesus speak to us about beauty?

Do not let your adornment be merely outward—arranging the hair, wearing gold, or putting on fine apparel— rather let it be the hidden person of the heart, with the incorruptible beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is very precious in the sight of God. 

I Peter 3:3-4

 So I take my stretch marks and my callouses and my changed body and I lay them there at His feet, at His nail-pierced feet--

Jesus' body was broken, too -- unimaginably broken.

And His beauty shines through His scars--

My scars can also speak beauty, can also pour forth beauty--

Just as His wounds have poured forth beauty onto me.

I take my stretch marks, my sagging skin, my dismay, and I lay them there at His feet.

And His beauty covers me.

Later, on the ocean shore, I ponder these things, one baby pressed to me in my carrier, the other delightedly throwing rocks into the cold water and my husband's voice cuts into my thoughts--

"You know, you're beautiful in the sunlight."

And the Son's light covers me and I am washed there, on the shore, in His beauty.


 

I share my posts with these blogs: Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Homestead Lady, Deborah Jean's Dandelion House, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Serenity You, Renewed Daily, Sunday Stillness, The Beauty in His Grip, Tales of a Kansas Farm Mom.

Stretch Marks and Surrender

She said that she was just being honest. 

She had two babies and she didn't think that she wanted to have any more--because she "wanted her body back." 


She was "just being honest" and she said what so many others are thinking--

But I wished that she hadn't just left it at that, "honest" though it was. 

And I look down at my eight-month-pregnant belly and I touch the stretch marks--all red and glaring and unlovely and think--

There are things more important than stretch marks--(and won't I get my new body in heaven, anyway?)--

And I think of my tiny daughter and the baby growing inside of me--and the stretch marks become a thing of almost-beauty, a thing of surrender, a thing of sacrifice. 

My body for the life of another, for the sake of another life brought into the world, a little person, a precious soul. 

The stretch marks take on a new significance. 

And I hear people talking and they speak my sometimes-thoughts--the thoughts that are selfish and unlovely--the thoughts that need to be yielded and surrendered to the One who purifies all things--

And they say, in essence, that they want to have all of their children in the span of a few years, so that they can "move on" with their lives, with their careers, with pursuing the things that bring them momentary happiness. 



Are children just another "nice thing" to tack on to our existence? Or is there something deeper? 

Children are eternal beings, eternal souls loaned to us for a season--that we may point them with all of our energies towards the Eternal Father who gave them to us. 

And we sometimes think--"oh, let me 'get past' this difficult season with my children"--the time of teething, or of sleepless nights, or cranky days, or times when our children are needy in some way. We wish that they would "hurry up" and be able to talk, or walk, or ride a bike, or go to school. 

But I'm learning--and it struck me recently--that every season in our children's lives is a gift. 

It struck me last night when I was awake with my daughter from 12:30 am until 3 in the morning-- when she finally fell back to sleep--when I felt overwhelmed and heavy with sleep and forced my weary pregnant body to give just a little more--even though I didn't want to. I found that I could take His strength and trust Him. 

Whether it be learning to walk or to talk or to tie shoes or to ride a bicycle for the first time--

Or whether it be the sleepless nights, the teething, the tantrums, the cranky days, the setbacks--these are gifts too--unlikely as it may seem--to teach us to depend more upon our Heavenly Father and to entrust our children to Him, and to His wisdom. 

Each day is a gift, an opportunity to depend upon the Lord in whatever set of circumstances that He hands us with our children. 

And sometimes it is really hard, and we feel like we are "losing it," and we just want the day to be over, for the turmoil to stop. 

But He gives more grace in those situations, in whatever form it may take . . . He gives us grace, if we will depend on Him and surrender. 

I want my body back . . . 

Or my career back . . . 

Or my freedom back . . . 

Or my time back. 

But it isn't mine---

Sometimes I forget that--

It belongs to Him--it is "mine" only to surrender, to serve, and to yield. 

Children can be very good teachers . . . 

So I yield to Him--

My body--just as Jesus did, and bore the scars of submission and sacrifice. 

My career--because my "work is to do His will," in whatever form that may take as He directs my steps.

My freedom--because in Him only is my soul truly free--not in doing what I "want" or what the world says that I should want or deserve.

My time--because "my times are in His hands." 

Children aren't a thing to "get through," but rather to embrace, to cherish, to love, to raise up in the fear and submission of God. 

And sometimes it is hard--but ultimately, worth it. 

And the blessing rests upon those who will surrender. 

My body, my freedom, my time, my plans . . . and hand them over to Him--the One who is all-wise. 

And trust. 

That the seed that is buried will yield its fruit in due time--to the joy and blessing of our eternal hearts. 


Photo Credits: Amalia Lindegren [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons   (little girl)
Henri-Edmond Cross [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons  (mother with baby painting)
By William H. Majoros (Own work) [CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons (robin)




You might find me on these link-ups:

Strangers and Pilgrims on Earth, The Modest Mom, What Joy is Mine, Yes They Are All Ours, Missional Call, A Mama's Story, Mom's the Word, Rich Faith Rising, Time Warp Wife, Cornerstone Confessions, Mom's Morning Coffee, So Much at Home, Raising Homemakers, Hope in Every Season, A Wise Woman Builds Her Home, Woman to Woman Ministries, Whole-Hearted Home, A Soft Gentle Voice, My Daily Walk in His Grace, Messy Marriage, My Teacher's Name is Mama, The Charm of Home, Graced Simplicity, Children Are A Blessing, Mittenstate Sheep and Wool, Imparting Grace, Preparedness Mama, A Look at the Book, Essential Thing Devotions, Count My Blessings, Beauty Observed, Christian Mommy Blogger, Renewed Daily, Soul Survival, Good Morning Mondays