Moral Courage, Purpose, and Choosing Faithfulness in the Time We Are Given

There are moments in history—and moments in our own lives—when we find ourselves wishing things had been different. Easier. Quieter. Less demanding. Less costly.

The image above captures that tension so well: the longing for a world without the burden, and the sober wisdom that reminds us we don’t get to choose the times we live in—only what we do with them.

That truth has echoed in my heart for decades. Long before it became fashionable language for leadership or resilience, one verse grounded me and gave shape to my sense of calling:

“And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?”
—Esther 4:14

A Verse That Wouldn’t Let Me Go

I first encountered Esther 4:14 more than twenty years ago, and it has followed me—persistently, faithfully—ever since. It has been my guiding theme through seasons of uncertainty, responsibility, and decision-making when the right path was not the easy one.

So formative was this verse that I eventually had it tattooed on my foot.

Not because it was trendy.
Not because it was decorative.
But because I wanted it literally beneath me—something I would stand on.

A reminder that purpose is not abstract. It is embodied. Lived. Walked out.

Esther and the Cost of Moral Courage

Esther’s story is often told with a triumphant ending, but we sometimes rush past the risk. She did not know how her story would turn out. She only knew that silence was safer—and that silence would cost her something far deeper than her own comfort.

Mordecai’s words to her are not sentimental. They are bracing:

If you don’t act, deliverance may come another way.
But YOU were placed here for a specific purpose.

This is the heart of moral courage:
Not the certainty of success, but the refusal to abdicate responsibility.

Purpose Is Not About Preference

One of the most challenging truths I’ve learned is this: purpose is rarely aligned with preference.

We don’t get to choose the complexity of the moment, the weight of the decision, or the discomfort of standing up when it would be easier to step back. Like Frodo, many of us quietly think, “I wish none of this had happened.”

And yet—here we are.

Leadership, vocation, and calling are not about being spared hard times. They are about being entrusted within them.

What Will We Do With the Time Given to Us?

Across faith traditions, stories, and centuries, the same question returns:

• Will we choose courage over comfort?
  
• Will we speak when silence is safer?
  
• Will we act with integrity when outcomes are uncertain?
  

Esther did not save the world by accident. She did so by choosing to show up fully in the role she had been given, at the moment it mattered most.

That is what “for such a time as this” has come to mean to me—not a declaration of importance, but a summons to responsibility.

A Quiet, Steady Yes

Moral courage is rarely loud.
Purpose is rarely glamorous.

More often, they look like a quiet, steady yes—repeated over years.

Yes to doing the right thing.
Yes to stewarding influence well.
Yes to standing firm when the cost is real.

For two decades, Esther 4:14 has reminded me that calling is not about control. It is about faithfulness.

And perhaps that is the invitation for all of us, right now—whatever our context, whatever our burden:

We are here.
The time is now.
What will we do with it?