I'm an Old Testament kind of girl. I have my favorite stories, but none has touched my life like the story of Hannah. I really didn't get into it until my Hannah had passed away; I mean, I knew the story, but I didn't GET it. It has a whole new meaning for me that's grown over the years.
Hannah had what many would think was a beautiful life: She had a husband that loved her best. Sure, he had a second wife, but all we hear about Peninnah is that she was a total jerk who mocked Hannah for not having children. REALLY?!?!?
Women in the church that deal with not having children face a stigma that most often goes unsaid; occasionally, someone will actually have the audacity to verbalize it. "Barrenness is a curse."
Do you KNOW what you do, when you say/infer that to a woman who wants to have children?
You turn her away from the face of God.
Enjoy having that on your conscience.
We live in an era that comes against the blessings of God. Although I will happily get into the science of being over-inundated with hormones and its affects on sexuality/reproduction/identity, it's more than this blog can handle (and would most likely result in hate mail). We live in a society that extols the "freedom" of the single woman, and that denies the unique creation of children. We live in a world that has attempted to redefine what constitutes a family, while ridiculing those of us who cling to the Biblically-based concepts of a mom, of a dad, and of participating in a community of like-minded individuals. I'll stop this tangent before I get too side-tracked...
No one talks about Peninnah. No one talks about the woman who Hannah thought, had it all. There's no chapter in the Bible dedicated to extoling her as a woman, as a prayer warrior, or as a mother. Like I said before—all we’re left with is the knowledge that she was a total…Well, no one liked her. No one names their children after her. She is forever known as “the provoker” (I Sam. 1:7).
We remember Hannah—we remember that Elkanah loved her best. We remember that he gave her a double portion. We remember that he did not cast her aside…that he did what he thought was best to give her comfort (I Sam. 1:8).
I see a lot of David (as in my husband, not as in The King) in Elkanah. In spite of his own grief, his own loss, and his own hopes, he has never stopped encouraging me on this journey. Of course our relationship is not perfect!!! But when I was certain that God had forgotten me…that God didn’t like me…that I wasn’t worthy of His love or attention…David was the Elkanah that gave me a double portion. There were the conversations in the car where I was brutally honest with how I felt toward the Lord, toward church, toward my friends (who only ever did their best), and toward my family. There were the conversations that ended in tears (most of them), and the ones where I shouted and screamed…there were the conversations that, I’m sure, left him convinced that I needed to be sedated or institutionalized.
There were plenty of conversations where all he said is, “Cassidy, you know that’s not true. Change your mindset.” Those were infuriating…but they are so indicative of the nature of the man. Like Elkanah, who probably frustrated Hannah by telling her that he was better than 10 sons (nice!), David never stopped reminding me that with just the two of us, there was happiness.
And there is.
Elkanah never deprived his wife of intimacy because he didn’t think it was fruitful. He continued to provide for her, even abundantly blessing her, because he loved her. Women who struggle with having children often shut down—we push people away, we push our husbands away, because we feel defective. We feel unloved, accursed, broken, and abandoned by our own bodies. Sure, I didn’t struggle with fertility issues; my struggles were different. But the concepts are the same: Our bodies have betrayed our hearts.
The husband who stands by the wife who feels like a freak of nature, is a man worth noting. He is made of iron and steel, and he has the power to make or break her…she is fragile, in every sense of the word. He takes his vows seriously…he takes her dreams seriously…and he takes her spiritual state into consideration.
Elkanah and Hannah are, to me, such a type-and-shadow of Jesus and His Bride. I Samuel 1 and 2 are a love story, and I know that sounds strange. But when you consider the culture of the day, and the care with which Elkanah treated his broken bride, you can see very clearly how Jesus treats us when we are “damaged”: He stays with us. He doesn’t abandon us. He helps us stay focused on Him; He challenges the mindset that the Provoker stabs us with. He reminds us of who we are with Him. He challenges us to seek Him, even though our fleshly mind tells us to give it up already.
Because Elkanah did not abandon her, and because he ensured that his family maintained their relationship with God (he took them to worship and sacrifice at Shiloh on a consistent basis), Hannah had a place to go, to pour out her heart. She had a relationship with the Lord on her own, that was freely expressed. I find it interesting that even though she blamed the Lord for closing her womb (which He did—He had a purpose), she never gave up pursuing Him for what she wanted. She was clear and specific, and never disregarded her request. That’s hard—sometimes, you feel so stupid for going before the Lord yet AGAIN, for the same thing. You fall prey to the lie that He gets sick of hearing from you.
He never gets tired of our prayers.
Hannah knew that—she knew her Lord. So she went after Him, wholeheartedly...She pursued Him. She makes a severe covenant—I say “severe,” because she promised to dedicate her son to the Lord and to let him be raised outside of her home. It almost feels like she’s bargaining with God in I Sam. 1:11—“If You do THIS, I’ll do THAT,” but I really don’t think that’s the case. Her promise to dedicate her son to the Lord is a testimony to her faith that this would come to pass. She made a Nazarite vow, and from the point of weaning, on, she only got to see her baby boy once a year. That’s a crazy-brave woman.
In her pursuing of the Lord, she prayed so hard that the priest Eli thought she was drunk. I’ve mentioned this a few times in my blog, because it fascinates me. When you pray past the understanding of human comprehension…when you are so goal-oriented that no one understands you…when you have one focal point for years on end…when nothing else really matters, except for this one pursuit…then you are praying the Prayers of Hannah. The rest of the world won’t get it—they’ll think you’re crazy. They’ll tell you you’ve missed God, that you need to give it up.
Don’t do it.
“Drunk” is subject to interpretation.
He sees you…He hears you. He’s not ignoring you; He may be shutting you down for a brief time, but He isn’t missing your prayers. And when He “shuts you down,” it’s because He has a perfect timing in mind. When you look back, after your prayer is answered, things will make a lot more sense.
I know (better than most people) that sounds so mundane and churchy. I hate hearing that, even now. But drunk people are not rational people, so the things you say to us do not make sense at the time that we’re in that heavy pursuit of a goal. It isn’t until after someone has “sobered up” that they understand the “consequences” of their actions. It isn’t until the hope deferred is realized, that the pursuit is praised. THEN people tell you you’re strong…then people tell you that you have “great” faith. They don’t tell you that when you’re falling-on-your-face desperate, or nose-deep in the carpet of the altar, or shut up at home because you can’t stand to see one more person who has what you know God has called you to—no, that’s when they think you’re just sad or depressed. When you finally get to the point where your prayers are answered, then everyone thinks you’re awesome for hanging on.
I like the people that have hung out with me when I was “drunk.” I like the friends and family members who kept encouraging me past the point of medical reason. I like the pastors who acknowledged our broken hearts and called a congregation to pray that we’d get to be parents someday. I like the people that got “drunk” with me.
I’d like to be someone who gets “drunk” with them…who supports them in their crazy pursuit of their heart’s desires.
Do you know anyone like that? Are you someone like that? Well, c’mon, you “bunch of drunks!” Get in there, and pursue—get in there, push back the crowds, and touch the hem of His garment (See! I CAN make a NT reference!). Press in—go face-first. Be a Hannah. Go face-first for your friends—pursue WITH them, instead of standing back and judging them. Be an Elkanah, not an Eli—and whatever you do, don’t be a Peninniah (who was that again?!?)
I raise my glass to you, fellow drunks: Here’s to the pursuit, to the process, and to the reward. Here’s to the realization of heart’s desires, and to the dreams that will not be ignored. Cheers!
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