Becoming Mo

I recently watched a movie with my family about the biblical story of Esther, and when the scene surrounding Queen Vashti came up, a conversation started.

And somehow, that conversation got me thinking about voices – not just the ones we hear when we’re in the room, but the ones that speak when we’re not.

I started wondering:
When my name comes up in a room I’m not in, what is usually said about me?

Who speaks?
Who stays silent?
And what voices do I listen to?

The story of Vashti made me think about how much influence a voice can have.

The king was angry. His advisers were consulted. A decision was made. And eventually, the search for another queen began.

Of course, Scripture doesn’t tell us everything that happened behind the scenes, but I couldn’t help wondering about the conversations we don’t get to hear.

Was there someone who encouraged Vashti to believe that refusing the king wouldn’t have consequences?
Was there someone who could have spoken differently to the king?
Someone who could have said, “Let’s hear her side first.”
Someone who could have pleaded for her?

We don’t know.

But it made me think about the people in our own lives.

Do we have people who will speak for us when we’re absent?

Not people who will lie for us or defend everything we do, but people who know us well enough to say, “That’s not quite fair.”

People who will bring context when someone has only heard one side.

People who won’t happily participate when our name becomes the subject of a conversation that could hurt us.

Because sometimes, one person’s voice can change the direction of a situation.

And sometimes, silence can too.

There are people who hear something unkind being said about someone they know and say nothing.

Maybe they’re uncomfortable.
Maybe they don’t want to get involved.
Maybe they don’t know what to say.
Maybe they agree.
Maybe they simply don’t care enough to speak.

But silence isn’t always neutral.

Sometimes, our silence gives room for a false story to grow.

That thought stayed with me. The more I thought about it, the more Proverbs 18:21 came to mind.

“Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof.” — Proverbs 18:21 (KJV)

I’ve been different things to different people.

I’m sure you have too.

Some people have experienced the best parts of me. Others may have experienced a version of me they didn’t particularly enjoy. There are probably people who would tell stories about me that I wouldn’t tell about myself.

And that’s okay.

I’m not expecting everyone to love me or always speak well of me.

We’re human. We misunderstand each other. We hurt each other. Sometimes we get things wrong.

So, I found myself praying:
Lord, whenever my name comes up in a room I’m not in, let there be someone who speaks for me with grace.

Someone who can say, “Let’s not judge.”
Or, “There may be more to the story.”

And then my prayer became bigger.
Lord, let there be people who speak well of my children when they aren’t in the room too.

Because one day, they will walk into rooms I cannot enter. They’ll have friendships, teachers, workplaces and relationships that I can’t always be part of.

I won’t always know what’s being said. I won’t always be there to explain who they are or correct a misunderstanding.

So I pray they will have people around them who will speak with wisdom and kindness.

People who will protect their names without pretending they’re perfect.
People who will correct them when necessary but won’t tear them down for sport.
People who will see the whole person, not just one mistake.

But then came the uncomfortable part.

I had to ask myself:
Am I that person for someone else?

When someone else’s name comes up, what do I do?

Do I add to the story?
Repeat what I heard?
Sit quietly because it’s easier?
Or do I use my voice wisely?

Because perhaps the prayer isn’t only:
“God, give me people who will speak for me.”

Perhaps it’s also:
“God, make me someone who speaks well of others when they’re not there.”

Give me wisdom to know when to speak.
Give me courage when silence would make me complicit.
Give me restraint when speaking would only cause more harm.
And give me enough grace to remember that I don’t know every side of every story.

Esther’s story is beautiful, and God’s purpose through her is undeniable. But Vashti’s story still made me pause. Because I kept thinking:
What if just one person had spoken differently?

We will never know.

But maybe that’s the point.

We don’t always know the weight our words carry.
We don’t always know what our silence permits.
We don’t always know what someone is going through when their name becomes a topic of conversation.

So I’m praying for my voice too.

That when I speak, I speak life.
That when I need to defend someone, I have courage.
That when I need to be quiet, I have wisdom.
And that when someone’s name comes up in a room they’re not in, I remember that they’re still a person, even in their absence.