Cultivating a Hannah Heart

The wind picked up around her, blowing into her empty hands, as she followed her husband to the tent of the Lord. Behind her, she could hear the footsteps of the tiny ones she longed for—and the taunting laughter of their mama, her rival. Every year they made this journey, and she knew the routine deep down in her grief-worn soul: Sacrifice. Eat. Celebrate. Endure. Weep. Pray. Return. Finally, desolation became desperation. She couldn’t bear one more trip home without hope; she had to do something.

Hannah had grown up in a time of anarchy—the era of Israel’s judges. Her people would continually forget Yahweh and all He had done for them, serve idols, suffer the consequence of oppression, cry out for help, and see the salvation of the Lord through the hand of a judge. Despite continued rescue, generation after generation after generation abandoned God, and the nation chosen as His special treasure was riddled with moral decay. Scripture relates (twice!) that this period was marked by ridiculous self-rule: “Everyone did what was right in his own eyes.”

In addition, Israel’s spiritual leaders were woefully lacking. 1 Samuel 2:12 calls the priest Eli’s sons “worthless men” who “did not know the Lord.” They were so occupied with robbing God and His people that they had no time to care about Him, let alone to teach others His ways.

Keeping this cultural climate in mind, read 1 Samuel 1:1-20.

There was a certain man of Ramathaim-zophim of the hill country of Ephraim whose name was Elkanah the son of Jeroham, son of Elihu, son of Tohu, son of Zuph, an Ephrathite. He had two wives. The name of the one was Hannah, and the name of the other, Peninnah. And Peninnah had children, but Hannah had no children. Now this man used to go up year by year from his city to worship and to sacrifice to the Lord of hosts at Shiloh, where the two sons of Eli, Hophni and Phinehas, were priests of the Lord. On the day when Elkanah sacrificed, he would give portions to Peninnah his wife and to all her sons and daughters. But to Hannah he gave a double portion, because he loved her, though the Lord had closed her womb. And her rival used to provoke her grievously to irritate her, because the Lord had closed her womb. So it went on year by year. As often as she went up to the house of the Lord, she used to provoke her. Therefore Hannah wept and would not eat. And Elkanah, her husband, said to her, “Hannah, why do you weep? And why do you not eat? And why is your heart sad? Am I not more to you than ten sons?” After they had eaten and drunk in Shiloh, Hannah rose. Now Eli the priest was sitting on the seat beside the doorpost of the temple of the Lord. She was deeply distressed and prayed to the Lord and wept bitterly. And she vowed a vow and said, “O Lord of hosts, if You will indeed look on the affliction of Your servant and remember me and not forget Your servant, but will give to Your servant a son, then I will give him to the Lord all the days of his life, and no razor shall touch his head.” As she continued praying before the Lord, Eli observed her mouth. Hannah was speaking in her heart; only her lips moved, and her voice was not heard. Therefore Eli took her to be a drunken woman. And Eli said to her, “How long will you go on being drunk? Put your wine away from you.” But Hannah answered, “No, my lord, I am a woman troubled in spirit. I have drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but I have been pouring out my soul before the Lord. Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for all along I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation.” Then Eli answered, “Go in peace, and the God of Israel grant your petition that you have made to Him.” And she said, “Let your servant find favor in your eyes.” Then the woman went her way and ate, and her face was no longer sad. They rose early in the morning and worshiped before the Lord; then they went back to their house at Ramah. And Elkanah knew Hannah his wife, and the Lord remembered her. And in due time Hannah conceived and bore a son, and she called his name Samuel, for she said, “I have asked for him from the Lord.”

Hannah’s story leaves me astonished.

Here she was, planted in a morally and spiritually bankrupt culture, with morally and spiritually bankrupt leaders, casting herself fully into the hands of Yahweh. Who taught her to pray at all, not to mention with such passion? She was unable to employ the psalms as a guide—they hadn’t been written yet! Hannah had never been exposed to the intimate, personally involved side of this conquering King seated in eternity. But even without solid spiritual teachers or helpful devotional materials, what little she knew of God prompted her to pour herself out to Him, not giving way to the fear that the state of her heart mattered less to Him than the state of His cosmos.

This God of wonders, who toppled dynasties and established nations, arranging the world’s superpowers at will, who ripped the sea wide open, who hurled hailstones at His enemies until their bodies piled high—was now being called into the quiet, humble space of sorrow over an empty womb. Against all probability, Hannah begged Him to notice her. And He did. And because she begged, and because He noticed, a baby was born who would mark the end of Israel’s doomed self-rule.

Could God trust me with a role that required such tenacious faith? To expect me, after years of relentless suffering, to press Him to rectify a problem He chose to create? (Verses 5 and 6 explicitly say that “the Lord had closed her womb.”) This brave woman navigated the mysterious waters in which sovereignty mingles with hope; and in doing so, she changed the world.

I long to be like Hannah, filling the gaps of my understanding with faith in God’s goodness. She refused to consider embarrassing topics off-limits with the only One who could redeem them. Neither did she feel the need to clean herself up in the asking, even when reprimanded. Hannah’s life is a celebration of trust in the Lord’s heart.

How much more should we approach the throne of grace with boldness today! Solid teaching is available at our fingertips. The canon of Scripture is complete and sufficient. And, most importantly, the cross serves as a proof-positive backdrop for every prayer that drips with “great anxiety and vexation.” Can we believe that this concern, whatever it may be, will matter to Yahweh? Of course—He gave the Son out of love for us! How could we suspect Him of withholding care? So let’s take a cue from our big sister Hannah and lift up every longing to a God, a King, a Father, who leans toward us. And then may we go out in peace, with faces as radiant as the morning.