I somehow wish I could put today’s Catch by Marti in neon. Something to make it rise up out of the plethora of information we have facing us today and be seriously considered by everyone in our community. It’s that good. No, “good” is the wrong word, though it is good. It’s important. It’s necessary. I’m afraid you’re going to miss it. I’m afraid you’re going to breeze through this inspired piece with a thousand things on your mind and go on to something else. And what a shame that would be. So am I trying to get your attention? Yes. Am I being successful? Only time will tell.

But one thing’s for sure: We’re going to spend more that one day on this. First read the piece. Then I suggest you read it again. Then tomorrow we will publish it again for those who missed it today, along with some questions that will help you journal some of this into your life should you choose (and I hope you do). I suggest you carry those questions and journaling into the weekend and spend some time with them asking God to show you what He wants you to change in your lifestyle.

You are alive for such a time as this. “Well then,” you ask, “what time is this? What does that mean? Why is this so important?” I’m going to answer that question with a hundred year-old poem written by William Butler Yeats called, “The Second Coming.” It could have been written yesterday, proof that there is nothing new under the sun.

Turning and turning

In the widening gyre

The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world;

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

Who are “the best,” if not those who follow Christ? So, is he right? Do the best lack all conviction? Only you can answer that for yourself.  – JF

For Such A Time As This…

by Marti Fischer

There’s a moment in Scripture — tucked into the Book of Esther — that has echoed through generations of God’s people. Mordecai’s words to Esther cut through her fear and hesitation:

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

That line wasn’t meant to comfort. It was meant to awaken.

Esther was safe — for a moment — hidden in the palace, removed from her people’s suffering. But comfort is deceptive. It seduces us into silence. It whispers that we can sit this one out, that someone else will step up, and that instead of being “in the world but not of it,” we hide from the very people God calls us to reach.

We are not called to be comfortable. We are called to presence, to proximity, to purpose.

Like the Jews in Persia, we too are living in exile of sorts. Not geographic, but spiritual. We live as residents in a world we are of, though we try not to be in. Many early Jews chose to remain in the Persian Empire even after the exile lifted. They had built lives, homes, and communities. They worked, traded, raised families, and influenced their neighborhoods. They learned to live faithfully and fruitfully in a foreign land — not by retreating, but by integrating without compromising.

This is the tension of the Christian life. The same one Jesus spoke of when He prayed, “My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one… As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world.” (John 17:15-18)

But somewhere along the way, many of us took a different path. We retreated and built safe bubbles, isolating ourselves in a Christian subculture. Fearing persecution, rejection, and discomfort, we created an environment where we wouldn’t have to face it or feel it. In doing so, however, we abandoned our posts. We stopped asking: What if I’m here — for this moment — for such a time as this?

And let’s be honest: fear, comfort, and limiting beliefs are all thieves. Thieves of impact. Thieves of purpose. Thieves of time.

When we avoid the world, we miss out on why we were sent into it.

Jesus never shied away from culture; He stepped right into its heart. He touched lepers, dined with outcasts, and sat at the tables of those considered unworthy. He walked through tension, not around it. And He calls us to follow Him — not just in belief, but in action.

Esther had a choice. She could stay silent and safe or step forward and risk everything — not just once but every day after. That’s the kind of courage we need today.

“To live for such a time as this” isn’t a one-time heroic act; it’s a way of life.

It involves staying alert, asking tough questions, and showing up when it’s inconvenient. It requires crossing boundaries, embracing complexity, loving when it costs, and risking reputation or comfort for the sake of another.

It means viewing this fractured, fearful, magnificent, broken world, not as something to escape, but as a field ready for love, one person at a time.

We live in a culture full of pain, confusion, and conflict. And still, God has placed us here. Now. Not to dominate. Not to disappear. But to dwell with. To walk closely enough with people that we recognize what’s needed and provide it — not from a distance, but with hands that serve and hearts that break.

This is how Jesus lived. This is how we are called to live.

So I ask you: What would change if you began to see each day as part of your “such a time as this”?

Don’t wait for the right moment. This is it. Don’t waste time hiding in safety. Step out into grace. Don’t let fear silence your voice. You were made for this moment.

Let’s stop waiting to be called and realize—we already are.