The full story of Hannah can be found in 1 Samuel 1-2.
She doesn’t know how much more of Penninah’s taunting she can take.
Every year it’s the same. She visits the Tabernacle with her family to offer sacrifices to God, and all the while Penninah makes fun of her because she has no children. God has forgotten you, Hannah, she‘d say. You’re just not fit to be a mother.
These thoughts consume Hannah’s own mind nearly every day, but the words hurt more when Penninah says them. They ring truer, somehow, coming from a woman God has so clearly blessed.
Sometimes it feels like even her husband doesn’t understand. She’s tried to talk to him about it, to tell him everything in her heart. How badly she wants children of her own, how badly Penninah’s taunts hurt her. But all he ever says in response is, Why are you so sad? Why won’t you eat? You have me, am I not better than 10 children?
Tonight, after the sacrificial meal, she sneaks off to pray. She can’t bear to be around her husband, or Penninah and her children. Hannah tries so hard to love them as if they’re her own, but every hug, every kiss on the cheek from them is an agonizing reminder of her empty womb.
Alone in the temple, she collapses to her knees. The tears come, and there’s nothing she can do to stop them. They fall and fall, wetting the fabric of her tunic. From the anguish of her heart, she cries out to God. Have you truly forgotten me, Lord? I have tried to be faithful to you all my days, but is there something I have done to deserve such a cruel punishment?
She wonders if speaking to God in such a way is even acceptable. She should be thanking Him, she tells herself, for His faithfulness. That’s the very reason they’re here in Shiloh—to worship Him and offer sacrifices of repentance and thanksgiving. Not to complain about her own lack. After all, she’s healthy. She has a husband who takes care of his family.
I want to be thankful, she prays. And I am thankful, my Lord. You have blessed me in many ways. The harder she tries to push down her feelings, the harder and faster her tears fall.
But my heart is broken, she tells Him. Perhaps God just wants the honest cry of her heart. You know the depths of me, Lord, and you know what I desire most. I promise that if you bless me with a child, I will give Him up in service to You. He will be Yours for His entire lifetime, and not even his hair will be cut.
It pains Hannah to even think about giving up her child, but even a child in service of God, a child she’d only get to see once a year, would be better than no child at all.
So she says it again. Please, my Lord. Bless me with a son, and I will give him back to You.
She lifts her head and wipes the tears from her eyes. Just then, she notices the priest standing only a few feet away. In her distress, she hadn’t noticed him when she entered the Tabernacle.
He looks at Hannah with unmasked disdain. “Must you come into the Lord’s house drunk with wine?” he says. “Throw away your wine and leave this place!”
She stands hastily. “Oh, no, my lord. I haven’t been drinking. Please don’t think I’m a wicked woman. I am merely heartbroken, and have been crying out to God from my deepest sorrow.”
Realizing his mistake, the priest’s expression softens. He reaches out and places a gentle hand on Hannah’s shoulder, and her eyes well with tears once again. “Go in peace, daughter,” he says. “And may the God of Israel grant what you’ve asked of Him.”
At his kind words, a weight eases off Hannah’s chest. She takes a deep breath, smooths her tunic, and bows to the priest. “Thank you,” she says.
And thank You, she says to God her Father.
*
All throughout Scripture, we read of people lifting their deepest anguishes, greatest heartbreaks, and biggest failures to God in prayer. Nearly half of the Psalms are prayers of lament. There’s an entire book of the Bible called Lamentations. From the cross, Jesus Himself cried out, Father, why have You forsaken Me?
Hannah’s prayer was honest and heartfelt. It was full of sorrow and bitterness. She’d endured years of ridicule from Penninah about her inability to have children. At best, she probably believed God had forgotten about her. At worst, she probably believed He was punishing her for something she’d done.
But God had not forgotten about her, and He certainly wasn’t punishing her. Hannah’s prayer was not only heard by God, but answered by Him. She conceived and gave birth to Samuel, and, faithful to her word, she offered her beloved son right back to God—even though it meant she’d only get to see him once a year. In return, God blessed her with even more children, above and beyond what she’d prayed for.
God wants nothing more than the honest prayers of our hearts. Even if they’re ugly. Even if they feel less like gratitude and more like a complaint. God sees every single desire of your heart, every hurt, every frustration. He knows what you’re feeling before you tell Him—but He still wants you to tell him!
Our honesty before God is a sign of our trust in Him. That even when things are hard, even when we can’t see through our circumstances, even when we’re mad at God Himself, we’re still running toward Him, not away from Him.
God had not forgotten about Hannah, and He hasn’t forgotten about you. Pour your heart out to Him as honestly as you can, and let Him redeem each and every thing you’ve laid at His feet.
