Snellville, Georgia

Johnny, a very bright five-year-old told his daddy he’d like to have a baby brother and, along with his request, offered to do whatever he could to help. His dad, a very bright 35-year-old, paused for a moment and then replied, “I’ll tell you what, Johnny. If you pray every day for two months for a baby brother, I guarantee that God will give you one!” Johnny responded eagerly to his dad’s challenge and went to his bedroom early that night to start praying for a baby brother.

He prayed every night for a whole month, but after that time, he began to get skeptical. He checked around the neighborhood and found out that what he thought was going to happen had never occurred in the history of the neighborhood. You just don’t pray for two months and then, whammo—a new baby brother. So, Johnny quit praying. After another month, Johnny’s mother went to the hospital. When she came back home, Johnny’s parents called him into the bedroom. He cautiously walked into the room, not expecting to find anything, and there was a little bundle lying right next to his mother. His dad pulled back the blanket and there was—not one baby brother—but two! His mother had twins! Johnny’s dad looked down at him and said, “Now aren’t you glad you prayed?” Johnny hesitated a little and then looked up at his dad and said, “Yes, but aren’t you glad I quit when I did?” Ah, the power of prayer.

Hannah's yearning for a son is another testimony to the power of prayer—prayer for a baby boy. It is one of the most poignant stories ever told. It speaks of immortal longings. It lifts up higher purposes that are surrounded by human misunderstanding.

The books of Samuel span a great age in the life of the Hebrew people. It begins with this morning’s text, the birth of the prophet Samuel around 1070 BC and ends with the close of the reign of King David in 970 BC. Within those 100 years, great things happened politically and spiritually. Judges were replaced by kings as Israel moved from a loose confederation of 12 nomadic tribes to a powerful, united kingdom. From being worshippers at local shrines in Shiloh, the Israelites ended by concentrating their worship at Jerusalem.

These were indeed in many ways great times in Israel, but they were also crazy times. Throughout this part of Israel’s history, there was constant warfare, primarily with the Philistines. It was a time, as the last chapter of Judges reports, when everyone was doing what was right in their own eyes. In fact, Judges ends with an Israelite raping and killing a woman, cutting her body into 12 pieces, and distributing those pieces to each of the 12 tribes of Israel. These were crazy times.

But in the midst of such crazy times, have you discovered, God is so prone to work miracles in the lives of very ordinary people? In the midst of crazy times, God so often brings some great event to pass—in this case the birth of one of the greatest prophets, Samuel.

And so with such a backdrop, we now move to a little village in the mountains. Elkanah, a good upright man—a "churchman" if you will—takes his two wives (polygamy was accepted back then) to Shiloh on their annual pilgrimage to make their sacrifice before the Lord. And yet, even amidst such a sacred event, human sin in the form of petty jealousy taints such an occasion. Peninnah, one of Elkanah's two wives, has borne many children. Hannah, the other, has none. She is barren, and in those days barrenness was considered a curse from God and a fruitful womb was seen as a sign of blessing from God.

Hannah, however, is clearly the favored wife of Elkanah. After all, she gets double portions of the meat offered at the sacrifice. This favoritism grates on Penninah. Especially as she has provided many children for Elkanah, she becomes tired of playing "second fiddle." Her jealousy is so deep that year after year she continuously taunts and ridicules the barren Hannah. Regarding the children, Penninah keeps reminding Hannah, “I have many. You have none.”

While on the family pilgrimage, Hannah reaches her breaking point. She can take it no longer. She stops eating. She weeps bitterly. Elkanah, the middleman caught in the webbing between his two wives, cannot understand her distress. "Cheer up, honey,” he says, “Do I not mean more to you than 10 sons?" Not the most therapeutic or sympathetic response. Hannah cannot answer. She can only cry. Her voice is muted.

So in her distress, while at the temple in Shiloh, Hannah turns to the Lord. Bringing her burden to God in the midst of her tears, she gets down on her knees and makes a dramatic vow: “Lord,” she prays, “if you just give me a son, I will dedicate him to you for as long as he lives. I will make him a ‘man of the cloth.’ I’ll let him go and let him be raised and trained to be a priest.” She continues to pray passionately. This muted woman is beginning to gain voice.

It just so happens that the temple priest Eli is standing nearby. He witnesses this woman in the throes of deep prayer. But in her agitation, he mistakes her praying for drunkenness. He interrupts her prayer: “Woman, be gone. This is no place to be drunk. Sober up.”

But Hannah is a lady of strong mettle and steady spirit. She is a woman gaining her voice back. She states, “Sir, I am not drunk. I am simply pouring out my heart to the Lord out of my deep distress.”

Eli then ends this part of the drama by giving a priestly response to such a heartfelt prayer: “Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant the petition you have made to him.”

With those words, something changes within Hannah, something magical. It is drastic and immediate. Hannah pours her heart out before God as surely she has done many times before, but this time, she finally hears those wonderful words, “Go in peace.” It is a eureka moment. Though nothing has changed—she still has no guarantee that she will bear a son—everything has changed. The simple act of turning to God and trusting God without even knowing God’s response brings her peace. Hannah leaves the house of God a new woman.

Well we know how the story ends. Her request is granted. She bears a son, and she names him Samuel, which, in Hebrew, means “asked of the Lord.” Amazing, isn’t it? A woman who initially has no voice, mired in a seemingly hopeless situation, begins to gain her voice as she brings her burdens before the Lord. And as her prayer request is granted, she proceeds to name the child herself, a job that was normally reserved for the father. This is a story of a muted woman who finds her voice.

Hannah continues to gain voice in amazing ways as she begins to raise her son. A year passes. It is time once again for the family to round up the little ones and proceed to Shiloh for their annual pilgrimage. Now is the time for Hannah to let Elkanah in on her little secret: “Sweetheart…um…this year…um…little Sammy and I will stay behind. In fact, I think we’ll stay behind until he is no longer nursing, and then we’ll go with you to the temple. And by the way, when we are ready to return, then we’ll just leave little Sammy with Eli there for the rest of his life so that he can be raised to be a priest. Is that okay with you?”

And Elkanah responds, “Sure, whatever you say, honey.” Amazing. I know that’s what you wives would like to hear more often from your husbands!

We move ahead a couple of years. Samuel is weaned. The toddler is taken to the temple. Sacrifices are made. Hannah takes Samuel by the hand to Eli and then shares her testimony with the priest: “Remember me? A few years back, you thought I was drunk when I was praying to God here in this temple. I prayed if God would give me a son, I would give him back to a priest. I now leave him with you. Take care of him, would you?”

They then bow down and worship God. Hannah says good-bye and leaves Samuel with Eli. Without her son, she returns to her home with Elkanah, Penninah, and all of Penninah’s children.

What a story! Through all these scenes over the course of a few years, we get such a rich view of real life, do we not? Here we tap into the human condition. We see the bad stuff, the petty jealousies, the miscommunications. But we also see the good stuff, the power of Hannah’s fervent prayer life, the abiding love and faithfulness of her husband, the blessing of her priest, her own willingness to live up to her sacrificial promises.

As I read this story, a couple of things really pop out to me. First, I think of God’s gift to Hannah. In this story, we see the unmistakable message that God has regard for every trusting and faithful person, be that person a priest like Eli, a patriarch like Elkanah, or even an oppressed and childless woman like Hannah. Or especially an oppressed and childless woman like Hannah. Here we cannot help but recall the words of Mary in a similar situation, pregnant with the baby Jesus: “For he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant” (Luke 1:48). The God who answers Hannah’s prayer is a God who is faithful, a God who works for good in every situation for those who believe. Here in vivid colors we see God’s gift to Hannah.

But there is more to the story, for we also see Hannah’s gift to God Do you not find it amazing that in the text as Hannah leaves her son at the temple, there is no hint of torn loyalties, no tears, no emotional parting? I think I would be a basket case if I were expected to leave my child—my little Madison or my little Jackson—to be raised by another. It reminds me of Abraham and his willingness to offer his own son Isaac as a sacrifice to God.

I stand in awe of the depth of this woman’s faith. As people in the Reformed, Presbyterian tradition, we talked a lot about the sovereignty of God, and that’s a good thing. However, sometimes, I think, we are too quick to dismiss the human dimension in the course of world events, claiming that all that is is because simply God said so. But this is a story not only of divine authority, but also of human authority. Without the passion and persistence of this abused and misunderstood woman, there would have been no Samuel, and therefore some other way would have had to be found to establish Israel and the monarchy.

I have something to learn from this woman’s persistence and her passion. Perhaps we all do. As someone whose prayer life recently has been more by rote and obligation rather than by passion, I admire this woman’s witness to me that prayer can indeed change things. It can even change the heart of God. I admire this woman’s tenacity of spirit, her generosity, her faithfulness. Here we see loud and clear Hannah’s gift to God.

Now let us not kid ourselves. The Christian faith is not horse-trading with God. The message of this story is not that we’ll get everything we ask of God. God doesn’t send every childless couple a son or daughter. God doesn’t heal every prayed-over sickness or disease. God doesn’t say “yes” every time we ask. That is not the message of the story. The message of the story, I believe, is that yes, God always brings hope in the midst of despair. God always brings new life in the midst of barrenness. God always blesses God’s people and never lets them go. Do you hear that? God will never let you go.

Remember that as we wind down our stewardship season. Remember that as you find yourself in tough economic times. God will never let you go. So yes, bring your burdens to God. Pour out to the Lord the deepest yearnings of your heart. But do more than that. Don’t just bring your burdens to God. Also bring your blessings to God, especially in chaotic times. Focus on the gifts you have received from God: perhaps good health, a loving husband or wife, wonderful children, a good job that, though it doesn’t pay all that much, does enable you to share your gifts and talents to be used for God’s glory. Or maybe it’s simply your calling to be a member of Westminster Presbyterian Church. Bring your burdens to God, but also bring your blessings.

In gratefulness to God—for God’s gift to Hannah—Hannah gave her son back as Hannah’s gift to God. What will you give to God with gratitude and thanksgiving for what God has done for you? Amen.