In the Old Testament book of 1 Samuel, we meet a woman named Hannah. She was married to a man named Elkanah, of the tribe of Ephraim. They lived in the hill country, in a little town with a big name—Ramathaim-zophim.
As was common in that culture, Elkanah had a second wife—Peninnah. And, as is usually the case in multiple marriages, Elkanah’s home was full of tension and angst.
Hannah means “grace.” Perhaps because of Elkanah’s love—he favored her over Peninnah (see 1 Sam 1:4–5)—Hannah felt graced much of the time. It’s not a stretch, however, to surmise that every time Hannah saw the empty crib in her empty nursery, she felt cursed. For whatever reason, she was barren. Peninnah, meanwhile, had multiple children. As we might expect, these women became fierce rivals (1:6).
Kids can become a kind of currency or status symbol. This is not a new phenomenon. Children (in quantity or quality) can become a measuring stick, a way of keeping score. Peninnah, likely out of her woundedness and bitterness, gloated over her fertility. She actually took to taunting her “sister wife,” which was especially hurtful and humiliating to Hannah on the annual trips to Shiloh, where Elkanah’s not-so-happy family worshiped, offered sacrifices, and feasted before the Lord.
One year Hannah couldn’t take it anymore. She melted down, excusing herself from the sacrificial feast. Going back over to the tabernacle, she poured out her heart to God. In between her great, racking sobs, Hannah made a deal with God—or at least a vow to him. She swore that if he would give her a son, she would devote the boy to God’s service. (Think of an ancient Jewish boarding school arrangement.) He would live a consecrated, alcohol-free life as a Nazirite.
As Hannah blubbered loudly and prayed fervently but silently, Eli the priest watched with dismay. Deciding this worked-up woman must have had a couple of glasses of wine too many at the feast, he scolded her. “No, my lord,” responded Hannah, insisting she wasn’t inebriated. “I am a woman with a broken heart. . . . Don’t think of me as a wicked woman; I’ve been praying from the depth of my anguish and resentment” (1 Sam 1:15–16).
Satisfied she was sad, not sauced, Eli blessed her: “Go in peace, and may the God of Israel grant the petition you’ve requested from Him” (1 Sam 1:17). Sure enough, when she returned home Hannah conceived at long last. In accordance with the desires of her heart, she gave birth to a son. She named him Samuel, which means “God has heard.”
After she weaned young Samuel, Hannah made good on her vow. She and her husband gathered up the boy, who was probably only four or five, and made the trek back to Shiloh. There they offered sacrifices to God and found Eli. Hannah told him the story of how God answered her prayer: “‘Please, my lord,’ she said, ‘as sure as you live, my lord, I am the woman who stood here beside you praying to the Lord. I prayed for this boy, and since the Lord gave me what I asked Him for, I now give the boy to the Lord. For as long as he lives, he is given to the Lord’” (1 Sam 1:26–28).
Leaving their young son with Eli so that he might begin his religious training, the couple departed. Then, like a prophetess, filled with the Holy Spirit, Hannah worshiped God with a beautiful prayer (see 1 Sam 2:1–10).
God wasn’t done “gracing” the woman whose name means “grace.” He later gave her five other children: three sons and two daughters (see 1 Sam 2:21). But it was her firstborn, Samuel, who became a great prophet, a beloved and respected spiritual leader, and an influential adviser to Israel’s kings.
The Takeaway
There are so many lessons in the story of Hannah: God’s goodness and grace to his people, the wisdom of sticking to the biblical ideal for marriage (i.e., one man and one woman for life), the power of prayer, the importance of kindness, the blessings that come from living with integrity.
But perhaps the biggest reminder from Hannah’s life is the truth that God’s blessings are more technically loans. Our stuff isn’t really “our” stuff. Our kids aren’t really “our” kids. The teaching of Scripture is that God owns everything in all the world (see Deut 10:14; Pss 24:1; 50:12). This makes us stewards or caretakers or managers. So when we give back to God, we’re really only giving him what’s already his in the first place.
Whether in our finances, careers, or parenting, our goal should always be God’s greater glory, not our own.
Food for Thought
- Can you think of some specific ways we live vicariously through our children?
- In what ways do you struggle with viewing God as the owner of all you have?
- What are the unique tensions for parents and children when a child feels a pull toward some kind of full-time Christian ministry?