Daisies in Diaries 9- If I Perish, I Perish!

Hello dear sisters, and welcome to Daisies in Diaries.

What we do here is very simple. We retell diaries that were never really written down, but could have been. These women from the Bible, from history, from the faith, lived real lives, went through real struggles, cried real tears, and made real choices.

So we take one moment from their story, and we imagine it in diary form to make it close, alive, and relatable. We picture what they might have thought, what they might have whispered, how they might have prayed on that day.

Each time we meet, we pluck one daisy, we open one diary, and we let their story speak into ours.

Tonight, the diary we are opening is from Esther, also called Hadassah. This entry is titled: If I Perish, I Perish!

 

 

Daisies In Diaries 9: If I Perish, I Perish!

Diary, my hands are still shaking. I do not know how to begin. My heart is still loud inside my chest, as if it refuses to settle. I keep touching my neck and my wrists, just to make sure that I am truly alive. I cannot believe that my breath is still here. I cannot believe that my eyes are still open. I cannot believe that my life has been preserved. If not for Yahweh, I would have been carried out of the palace today wrapped in linen.

You see, it all started a few days ago. The day Mordecai’s letter came.

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I remember how the butler held the scroll with both hands, as if the words inside were too heavy for him. When I opened it and began to read, my heart broke into pieces. Mordecai’s voice filled my head. It did not sound like the gentle uncle who raised me. It sounded like a man carrying the weight of an entire nation on his back.

He told me everything. He told me about the decree. He told me about Haman’s wickedness. He told me that the king had sealed the letter. Ah! He told me that every Jew was marked for destruction. Fathers. Mothers. Children. Old men. Babies. All of them.

And then he wrote those words that shook my soul.

 

“Hadassah, if you remain silent at this time, relief will come for the Jews from another place. But you and your father’s house will perish. Who knows if you have come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”

I closed my eyes. Those words pierced me deeper than any sword.

For such a time as this??

Was this why Yahweh allowed a fatherless girl to be taken into a king’s harem? Was this why I found favor in the eyes of all who saw me? Was this why the king chose me above all others?

Could this crown, this heavy, glittering burden, be the tool Yahweh chose to save His people?

I read that line again and again until my vision blurred. I pressed the letter against my chest. I could feel Mordecai’s urgency rising from the parchment. I could imagine him pacing in the courtyard with sackcloth around his waist.

I could imagine the trembling in his voice. Mordecai had never spoken like that to me in the years he raised me. He had never been so direct. Never so urgent. Never so desperate.

And yet, the words were true.

He was the same man who told me to conceal my identity when I first entered the palace.

Now he was the same man telling me to reveal it.

The contradiction shook me.

What was Yahweh doing?

What kind of divine plan twists like a river with no warning?

I felt a strange pressure in my chest. It was fear, confusion and something strange and holy within me. I knew the law. I knew the danger.

Everyone in the palace reminded me of it.

The king had not sent for me for thirty days. Yet Mordecai wanted me to walk into the throne room unannounced.

Who does that? Who survives that?

I spent the whole night pacing my chamber. I kept touching the golden necklace on my neck, the one the king had gifted me. I kept asking myself if it would be the same necklace they would place on my body if I died.

I looked through my window and watched the moon sit halfway in the sky. I could not sleep. My eyes kept wandering to the sandals at the foot of my bed.

Would those be the sandals I would wear to my death?

The burden in my heart grew heavier, it pressed into my bones.

It felt like my ribs were tightening around my lungs.

I shifted from thinking about me and decided to dwell outside the palace.

I thought of my people.

I thought of their faces.

I thought of Mordecai.

I thought of the children running through the streets of Susa with their sandals slapping on the stones.

I thought of the babies who still held their mother’s clothes when frightened.

I thought of the widows and the aged.

How could I lose them?

How could I pretend not to see them in danger?

I quickly got a parchment and ink and wrote a letter and asked that it be safely and secretly delivered to Mordecai, so that all my people would also join me in a three day fasting and prayer program.

If Yahweh could find us all crying out together, maybe He would hear. Maybe He would turn the heart of the king. Maybe He would preserve His people.

‘I will go in to the king, Uncle. I will intreat him by the mercies of the Lord. If I have found favour before Yahweh, I’d come out alive. But if I perish, then, I perish!’

My hands shook as I sealed the letter. I pressed it to my forehead before giving it to the messenger.

I whispered, “Yahweh, carry these words to my uncle and strengthen him. Do not let this messenger be caught. Do not let Haman hear of this. Please hide this letter in Your wings.”
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When the messenger left, my heart felt lighter and heavier at the same time. I had done what I could. The rest was in the hands of Yahweh.

I turned back to my servants and told them again that we would neither eat nor drink for three days. Their faces fell. Their concern was written everywhere. One of the younger maids began to cry softly. Another tried to steady her breathing.

 

I put my hands on their shoulders and told them I needed them. I needed their faith beside mine. I told them this was a hunger for mercy. A hunger for rescue. A hunger for Yahweh.

 

We began that night.

 

 

The candles were blown out. The side of our palace grew quiet. The city outside hummed with its usual life, yet something in my room felt suspended.

Holy.

Dangerous.

I knelt on the floor with the first group of servants. We prayed until our voices cracked. We prayed until our tears fell freely on the marble. We prayed until the night felt warmer with Yahweh’s breath near us.

The more I prayed, the more the burden in my heart pressed inward. It felt like something growing, something too heavy for my chest.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the faces of my people. I saw women with baskets on their heads. I saw fathers leading children by the hand. I saw old men who sat at the synagogue with trembling fingers. I saw little babies who had not yet learned to speak. I saw Mordecai. And I knew that if I kept silent, I would eventually watch my own people dragged through the streets like sheep to slaughter.

I could not bear that thought.

The second day was even harder. My lips were dry. My head throbbed. But whenever the weakness became heavy, I forced myself to remember why I was doing this. I remembered the decree Haman sent out. I remembered the seal of the king on it. That seal frightened me more than any sword ever could.

Everyone knew that once a Persian king sealed a law, no one could turn it back. It was as if the thing had already happened. As if my people were already gone. As if their graves were already dug.

The thought shook me so deeply that sometimes I had to sit down.

All the Jews!!!

Every one of them!!

All marked for death! Aha!

It made my stomach tighten with fear.

I remembered Haman’s face, the day I first saw him. The cold way he looked at people. The empty pride in his voice. His smile when he got what he wanted.

Now, that smile was on the death sentence of my people!

And then I remembered Mordecai. Just this morning before he sent me the letter, he was at the backside of the palace, mourning publicly, crying in sackcloth in the middle of the public square, ignoring everyone who told him to stop. His clothes were torn. His face buried in dust. He had never been a loud man, but he wailed like a man who had lost everything. I stayed close to the fence and listened. Ah, the sound still rings in my ears.

It was all too much. The burden of it pressed on me like a heavy stone. Every time I thought about returning to normal life in the palace, I felt sick. How could I be surrounded by gold while my people prepared for death?

Then something inside me began to grow. At first, it felt like fear turning into anger. Then it felt like anger turning into strength. Then it felt like something I cannot explain. Like someone else was pushing me from within.

A thought came to me in that moment, slow and steady: Hadassah, you cannot keep quiet. Hadassah, you were not sent to this palace by accident. Hadassah, if you do nothing, you will lose everything.

I do not know how to explain what happened. I felt something stand up inside me. I do not know if it was courage or desperation. But whatever it was, it took hold of my heart and did not let go.

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I fell to the floor.

I pressed my forehead to the ground.

I cried like a child.

I told Yahweh everything that was in me.

I told Him the truth. I told Him I was scared. I told Him I did not feel strong enough for this. I told Him I did not know how to speak to a king who could kill me with a single gesture. I told Him that I felt small in that huge palace. I told Him that I felt alone.

But after pouring out all these things, I felt only one sentence rise inside me.

If I perish, I perish.

Saying it did something to me. The fear was still there, but it no longer controlled me. A strange calm settled over me, like someone had placed a hand on my back and steadied me.

On the morning of the third day, I woke up with my decision already made. My body was shaking from fasting, but my mind was clearer than it had ever been. I knew exactly what I must do. The entire palace could collapse around me. The king could raise his hand against me. I could fall dead in front of his throne.

But I would still go.

If I perish, I perish.

But I will not stay silent.

If Yahweh placed me here, then He must do something through me.

And if He does nothing, then I will still try!

In the afternoon, I heard a soft knock. Two women came in quietly. They knelt by my side. They told me they had heard about the fast. They told me they wanted to join. Word had already spread. I felt tears gather in my eyes. I did not ask them to stay, but they remained with me until the candles burned low.

By the third night, the palace felt like it was holding its breath. The servants moved softly. The guards spoke quietly. Even the air felt thick with prayer. Every time I opened my mouth to pray, only a single sentence kept coming out.

If I perish, I perish!

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And then came this morning. It felt like the longest morning of my life. My hands shook as my maids helped me sit at the low wooden stool. They brought out the royal wardrobe for me to choose from. There were gowns dripping with jewels, gowns embroidered with gold, gowns fit for a queen. But none of them felt right. None of them matched the weight in my spirit. I needed something simple. Something pure. Something that reminded me of prayer.

My eyes fell on a soft white gown with gentle golden threads at the hem. It had no loud embellishments.

It had no heavy jewels. It looked like something a woman would wear to meet God, not to impress a man. I asked them to bring it.

When they placed it over my shoulders, I felt a strange peace settle on me.

It was almost as if Yahweh Himself wrapped me in light.

They brushed my hair until it shone. They placed the smallest crown on my head, one that sat lightly. I did not want to walk in pride. I wanted to walk in purpose. When they finished, one of my maids burst into tears. I held her hand and whispered that Yahweh would walk with me. She nodded, though her tears kept falling.

I stood. My legs felt weak, but my heart felt firm.

I took a deep breath.

Then I stepped out of my chamber.
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The palace was quiet in a way I had never heard before. Silent servants hid behind pillars. Guards straightened quickly as I passed. I could feel their fear. They knew the law. They knew what it meant for me to walk toward the inner court without being called. They knew that this walk could end my life.

My robe whispered against the floor as I walked. The marble beneath my feet felt cold. Every step echoed loudly, as if the walls were repeating my heartbeat. I walked past the gardens. Past the golden lamps. Past the carved lions at the entrance of the great hall.

Once I reached the long corridor that led to the throne room, the fear hit me fully. The hallway stretched before me like a giant’s throat, wide and terrifying. Sunlight poured through the high windows. The air smelled like incense and polished stone. I could not hear anything except my own breathing. For a moment, I thought my knees would fail me.

My heart whispered, Hadassah, turn back.

But another voice whispered louder, Yahweh is with you. Keep walking.

So I walked.

When I reached the very edge of the throne room, I stopped. I placed one hand on my chest. My breath trembled.

The officials were already gathered inside. Important men with long robes and tall hats stood frozen when they noticed me. Their conversation died instantly. Their eyes grew wide.

 

No queen entered this place unless summoned. Every one of them looked seized with fear. Two actually stepped back as if lightning had struck the doorway.

Then the king looked up.

He was seated on the royal throne. His robe was bright scarlet. His crown glistened under the light. He looked tired, but powerful. His eyes moved slowly toward me. He stared. He did not speak. He did not smile. He did not frown. He just stared.

The hall became painfully still.

I felt my throat tighten. My fingers trembled violently. Inside my chest, my heart pounded like a drum of war. I could feel every eye on me. I could sense the guards waiting for the king’s signal.

Life or death.

Life or death sat in the king’s silence. Mercy or judgment waited on his fingertips. My life lived inside this one single breath.

And before I could stop myself, I fell straight to the floor. My forehead touched the marble. My hands stretched out before me. My voice trembled without sound.

The king needed to see my posture. He needed to know that I did not come with presumption. I did not come in rebellion. I did not come with pride. I did not come like Vashti who despised his summons. I came with trembling knees and a pleading heart. I came for life. I came for salvation. I came because an entire people breathed through me.

Oh king, have mercy.

The marble was ice cold on my face. My breath fogged against the floor. I could feel the pounding of my own blood in my ears. I stayed there, motionless, waiting for the swipe of a sword or the lifting of grace.

Then the room gasped.

I heard it.

A soft ripple of shock.

A few hands flew to mouths.

Someone whispered, “Look.”

I lifted my eyes slightly.

The king’s hand was moving.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Purposefully.

He reached for the Golden Sceptre!!!

He held it!

He lifted it!

And he stretched it toward me.

The light from the standing decorative lamp struck the gold of the sceptre and scattered across the hall. It lit the air around me. I stared at it, frozen.

My breath caught in my throat. I could not believe what I was seeing. My heart flooded with relief. My eyes drowned in tears. I felt Yahweh’s presence sweep over me like warm oil.

The king’s voice came, deep and shaken. “Hadassah, my queen.”

I rose on trembling knees. My fingers reached out. And I touched the tip of the scepter.

 

Life returned to me. Breath returned to me. Hope returned to me.

The room erupted quietly. Gasps. Soft cries. Hands covering hearts.

A few servants dropped to their knees in gratitude, for they knew that a queen had just come back from the very door of death.

The king stepped down from the throne. He came toward me. He reached me before I could steady myself. His hands took my arms. He lifted me gently to my feet.

He studied my face. He wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. His brows gathered with concern.

“Hadassah, my queen,” he said softly. “Why do you look so pale? Why are your eyes so tired? What burden have you carried alone? Who has troubled you? Why have you risked your life like this?”

I could not speak. I could only breathe in his nearness, trying not to collapse again.

His eyes softened even further. He signaled to his guards. “Leave us. All of you.”

They bowed and moved out quietly. The hall emptied. The heavy doors closed.
Only the two of us remained in the golden silence.

He touched my chin and lifted my face to look at him. His voice broke with worry.

“My love, tell me. Ask anything. Even half of my kingdom, and it shall be given to you.”

Oh Yahweh. To hear such love after so much fear.

To hear such tenderness after so much trembling.

To stand alive in a room where I could have died.

I felt myself crumble inside.

And so, I bowed my head softly and whispered,

“My king, please. Come today to a banquet. Only you and Haman. There is something I must say, but let me say it where my courage can breathe.”

He nodded.

He searched my eyes.

He agreed.

And he held my hand as though reassuring me of my safety.

My heart shook.

My soul bowed in worship.

I had never known such relief.

I had never known such mercy.

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All I saw was Yahweh. His fingerprints were everywhere. The moment that Golden Scepter stretched toward me, I knew it was not the king who moved first.

It was Yahweh.

It was prayer.

It was the cries of my people rising like incense for three days straight.

It was the sound of sackcloth rubbing against skin.

It was the tears of mothers. 

It was the trembling of children.

It was the whispers of every Jewish heart begging, Yahweh, remember us.

Prayer went ahead of me. Prayer walked into that throne room before my feet touched the floor. Prayer softened the king’s heart. Prayer turned judgment into mercy. Prayer overturned death.

Yahweh overturned everything. Yahweh broke the power of the decree even before I opened my mouth. Yahweh said yes to me. And the king simply followed the voice of Heaven.

Oh diary, what a day today was.
My hands are still shaking. My breath still comes in small, nervous waves. My knees still feel weak. I can still hear the soft thud of the sceptre as it touched my hand. I can still feel the warmth of the king’s fingers when he lifted me from the ground. I can still see the look on his face when he saw the state of my body from the fast.

I thought I would die today. Instead, I lived. I lived because Yahweh stood in that hall with me.

Some of the king’s servants are still crying. Some of them have not even recovered from the shock. They say it felt like a dream. They say their hearts stopped when I fell on the floor. They say their fear turned into joy the moment the king rose from his chair. They say they saw something like light around me. They say they will never forget this day.

And truly, neither will I.

Tonight, as I sit here with trembling hands, I feel the weight of everything. The fasting. The prayers. The fear. The courage. The long walk down the palace corridor. The silence of the court. The king’s stare. The tension in the hall. The moment my forehead touched the marble. The stillness before the miracle. The mercy that followed.

I am alive.

I am safe.

Tonight, I will sleep knowing that Yahweh has begun something.

Something beyond me.

Something that will shake kingdoms.

Something that will expose Haman.

Something that will deliver my people.

Something that will show that Yahweh keeps covenant.

Oh diary, today will remain the day I saw my God move like fire.
Today will remain the day I learned that one woman, with a trembling heart and a God who listens, can change the destiny of nations.

If I perish, I perish.

But Yahweh said ‘Not today, Hadassah! You will live!’

And I did!

 

Lessons from Esther’s Diary

1. God does not do coincidences. If we have yielded our lives to Him and have given Him sovereignty over our lives, He orchestrates every aspect of our lives to align with His will/ When we hold certain positions or find ourselves in certain places needing to do certain things, we must always be aware that God may find need for us and we must align accordingly. That is where we shall find fulfilment.

 

2. Like Esther, as women, we must always recognise our inadequacies and inability to bring about change by our own power or self-will. If we do, we have planned our failure from the onset. The right thing to do is to humble ourselves before the Lord in prayer and recognise that He is all powerful and whatever we seek to bring into manifestation can only come by Him.

 

3. God does not need the multitude to bring about change. God only needs that one person who is willing to stand in gap. A few scattered but united in faith can move God to shake mountains and make the irreversible, reversible and make the impossible, possible.  

 

4. When we hold certain offices of authority, we must remember always that the Lord has put us there. Hence, we must await that time and season when God will need that office for His glory. When such moments come, let us be willing to lay self aside and let God do with His according to His will. If we refuse to succumb to Him, He knows how to raise another. No woman is indispensable before God.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           
5. We must surround ourselves with sisters who are willing to join hands with us in intercession. Sometimes the battles we face, we cannot conquer ourselves because of the weariness of our hearts. Having sisters like Esther’s maid servants joining their faith with ours will keep us going in prayers and faith when all else says otherwise.  

 

6. We must learn to care less for our own lives and put the lives of others first. Esther knew that appearing before the king without summon can lead to her death. However, she went ahead to appear because the live of a nation was dependent on her willingness to face death. This is exactly what Jesus did for us. Jesus chose the agony of separation from His Father and the departure of the Spirit from Him all because you and I came to His mind and He does not want us to perish. 

 

7. Like Esther, we must not fear any man but God. Though the laws were evident before her, she could die! Esther chose to fear the God who made her queen over the laws of the land which could lead to her death. She chose to fear God over Haman who wanted to see the end of Israel. 

 

 

Rounding Off:

And here, sisters, we close today’s diary. What a fragrance it has left with us!

Do you want to read more diaries? Read other Episodes of Daisies in Diaries Here

Until next time, when another story unfolds, may your own life and mine also become a diary that whispers God’s faithfulness to generations after us.