CHAPTER THIRTEEN - HANNAH: THE SWEET SCENT OF HOPE

From my book Like a Sweet Fragrance

One fall morning, I stood on the front porch of our 100-year-old house, basking in the aroma of the cornucopia of flowers in my garden and admiring the plethora of purple, red, and pink zinnias growing in my front yard. Usually butterflies are flittering around the fragrant flowers, and many times honey bees and bumblebees are happily feeding off the nectar. But on this day, I saw hummingbirds. And they were having a marvelous time diving, hovering, and then ultimately coming to rest – briefly – on one particular purple zinnia. I was awed as they were awesome.  It was one of those times when the gifts of God so impacted my heart that I could barely breathe. 

That’s what the Word of God does to me. Its impact can be so powerful that I can’t even breathe. Just gasp. And stand in awe and amazement as God speaks.  

But God’s Word is also like that one purple zinnia. One flower.  Doing what it is suppose to do. And regardless of whether it’s the butterflies, the honey bees, the bumblebees, or even the hummingbirds, that flower -- just like God’s Word -- gives each one exactly what he or she needs. Nourishment for life.

Hannah’s story, found in the Old Testament book of First Samuel, is like that. When I was young, I heard her story, and when I was a teenager, I read more about her. As a young mother, I studied her even more and now in my middle-aged years, I’m still learning about Hannah. And the Scriptures surrounding her life are doing exactly what they are supposed to do for me. They are feeding me, nurturing my soul, and renewing my love for God exactly the way He intended them to do. Regardless of how many times I read her story.

Famously known as a barren woman who was given a child by God, Hannah was much more than that. To me, she’s an example of what to do with my own barrenness. Not a barren state of childlessness, but a barren state of emptiness that from time to time, I try to fill with something other than God -- even though it’s a void only Jesus can fill. 

Unfortunately when I’m upset, I'll sometimes go on a feeding frenzy, filling myself with food and self-medicating with chocolate, preferably, even though my husband’s homemade bread with butter or Blue Bell’s homemade vanilla with Hershey’s chocolate syrup will suffice. Of course, there’s also chocolate chip cheesecake, which definitely makes my Top Ten of Tasty Treats. Once, I did wake up with a dead peanut butter sandwich on my pillow, which was quite disgusting! However, there was one particularly distressing time when I was so upset I couldn’t eat.

The psalmist says in Psalm 42:3, “My tears have been my food day and night.”

As we read Hannah’s story, God presents us with a profound picture of a burned out, grief-stricken, and completely disillusioned young woman whose tears were her “food day and night.” Tormented by those she lived with, she was misunderstood by many others year after year after year. With absolutely no relief.

If you’ve ever cried yourself to sleep, been misunderstood and ridiculed by people around you, or felt like your life was never going to change for the better, then Hannah is your friend.
 
Hannah had major problems. In 1 Samuel 3:5-6, we’re told that the LORD was responsible for closing her womb, making it impossible for her to have a child, which made it even worse. In addition, she lived during a time when “The Word of the LORD was rare” (1 Samuel 3:1), and the priests, whom she might normally go to for help, were “wicked men” who “had no regard for the LORD” (1 Samuel 2:12). It was not the best of times, nor was her situation particularly pleasant. Hannah was a barren woman living in a land of spiritual barrenness.

Since barrenness during that time was considered a curse from God, signifying that God had withheld special blessings from the family, Hannah was also suffering socially and undoubtedly her self-worth was affected by her barren state. And to make it even worse, not only did infertility deny her a child, but it also denied her the possibility of being the woman chosen to bear the Messiah, which all Hebrew women yearned to be.

Hannah was a woman known for what she did not have.

Other people looked at this young woman and saw what she did not have, and Hannah looked at herself that way, too. She was depressed, disillusioned, and despondent, burdened down with the weight of broken dreams and living in a situation she never imagined having to face. A hopelessly unpleasant situation. 

Yet it was a situation similar to those faced by many women and men and even children each day who have lost hope. Like Hannah, they feel broken and empty, alone and grief-stricken. Like Hannah, they desperately desire something, but are unable to have it and can’t think about anything else. Like Hannah, they are in an unexpected and undesired situation, living in the reality of unfulfilled dreams. 

Maybe you, too, know what it’s like to suffer, not from a barren state of childlessness, but from a life empty of love or security or respect or appreciation. Or opportunities. And the lack of it is tormenting. Hannah was bitterly unhappy, crying lots of tears for lots of years. Maybe you know what that’s like. 

As if Hannah’s infertility problems weren’t enough, her husband, Elkanah, married another woman so he could have children. And it certainly doesn’t help when their husband obviously favors Hannah, which makes her life even worse for few women -- in fact I can’t even think of one woman -- want their husband to love another woman as much as he loves them! But Elkanah loved Hannah more and didn’t try to hide it. In fact, he was gaga for her. In the King James Version, this Hebrew word for love also means “delight and covet” and to desire to be in the presence of the object of that love. And for many married women, that’s just about as good as it gets except that the man is married to two women.

Elkanah treats Hannah like royalty, and he certainly doesn’t understand why she can’t be happy, repeatedly asking her, “Why are you weeping? Why don’t you eat? Why are you downhearted? Don’t I mean more to you than ten sons?” (1 Samuel 1:8).  Kids have an answer for that question, and it’s “duh!” But all wise women, even miserable ones, know when to keep their mouths shut! 

And the other wife -- less loved and less likely to keep her mouth closed, either -- retaliates, continually provoking Hannah “til she wept and would not eat” (1 Samuel 1:7).

As a public school teacher, I regularly hear stories about favoritism – especially favoritism of one child over another -- and what all the stories have in common is pain. Whether real or imagined, favoritism hurts.

I once heard a story about a family with three daughters. One day the youngest daughter was sitting in her bedroom and heard her mother call, “Is that you, darling?” And the young girl’s answer was, “No, mama. It’s only me.”

The Expositor’s Bible Commentary  says that “Elkanah must have been a man of some means, for he is the only commoner in the books of Samuel and Kings specifically mentioned as having more than one wife.” So from the outside looking in, all looked great. A fine family with an outstanding husband who traveled “to worship and sacrifice to the LORD Almighty” each year (1 Samuel 3); but, in the midst of this devout family, we have a distressing situation. A soap opera of Biblical proportions. One man. Two wives. One the hands-down favorite.  No dead possums, but definitely a stinky situation. 

Yesterday, my proud husband, quite insistently, wanted me to come outside and admire the results of several days’ worth of labor. Determined not to lose the magnolia tree he gave me for Mother’s Day, he had dug down deep through hard clay at least three feet and buried a pipe that he could use to feed and water the roots of the tree. And he was especially excited that by the time he filled the hole with topsoil and covered it with grass, no one would know the hole was there.

After admiring his handwork, I realized that I work hard at covering up holes, too – not in my front yard, but in my life. Whereas he was accomplishing something wonderful – saving our fabulous tree –I have dug holes that I’ve filled with regret and resentment, yet covered with false peace and smiling pretense.  And I’ve even forgotten some of the holes were there! And certainly no one else knows they are there! 

God sees the holes we’re digging, the ones we’ve already dug, and the ones we’re trying to hide from other people, even from ourselves. In fact, God sees and understands and uncovers what others can’t - not friends, family, or spouses. 

God certainly saw Hannah. In 1 Samuel 1:9, we are told Hannah stood up and then weeps and prays so earnestly and honestly and with such tears and passion that the priest thinks she’s drunk!  In verse 10, we’re told she prays in “bitterness of soul,” a phrase used elsewhere to show someone in great personal physical suffering – suffering as bad as Job’s. Bitterness crushes our hearts, our spirits, and can even destroy our bodies. It’s a description of brokenness and of suffering that can only be relieved by God. So Hannah pours out her soul to the LORD Almighty who is the only one that can cure a soul suffering from bitterness.  

Whether it’s the sacrificial system for worship or directions for building an ark or the clothing the priests are to wear, God specifically gives instructions throughout the Bible on how to accomplish certain things. God is detail-oriented. And one detail in this Scripture is that Hannah stood up to go to worship.

A few years ago, Ian and I were in San Antonio for a conference.  When we checked in the hotel, I asked for a lower floor because I sometimes panic in elevators. I’ve been to the top of the Empire State Building, the Washington Monument, and the Sears Tower, and most of the time I’m okay. I don’t like heights or elevators, but I deal with them even though I prefer lower floors for I can pretend I want to take the stairs for exercise!  This time, however, there were none available, so off we go to the 27th floor. 

For some reason, however, I freaked. I’d go to the elevator, and quietly started to panic. Do you know what a panic attack is like? And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what the problem was so I kept praying: “God, what’s the deal here? What’s this all about?” And then I’d recite the Spanish alphabet, which is what I do in elevators! 

I was okay when Ian was with me, but I couldn’t make myself go on that elevator when he was not. So each day when I returned from my conference, I’d call Ian and he’d come down from the 27th floor to ride back up with me on the elevator so I’d feel safe and not panic.  I’d wait in the lobby until he came, and then we’d go up together.

And it wasn’t long before God reached in and turned on a light bulb, and it became clear to me how this relates to life. When we’re weighted down and having a really hard time simply standing up and we don’t think we can do it anymore, God comes down, takes our hand, and takes us up. Just like what Ian was doing for me with that elevator.

And that’s what happens to Hannah. She calls for help from the only one that can take her up out of her misery. When our fears and our tears crush us, God listens, takes our hand, and then comes down to help us stand up. And then he sends us to help others who also need help standing up. That’s the fragrance of Christ we spread. The heady scent of hope that comes when we need it the most. 

It’s been said that the only time we fail in prayer is when we don’t show up! Hannah definitely showed up, emptying her tears as God filled her up with hope.

During that one particularly difficult time for our family, my husband came home from the gym, and said to me, “You know, I tried so hard to pray. I really did. But all I could do was cry.”  Hannah knew what this was like. So did all those who wrote the psalms, and in Psalm 62:8, the psalmist encourages us to pour “out our hearts to him” and to “trust in him at all times.” Trusting and pouring out our hearts to God go hand in hand in this verse.

Ian’s mother lives next door to us and is almost completely blind. Ian takes good care of her, handling all her paperwork and medicine and household chores. She is quite meticulous about what needs to be done, and she trusts him to take care of her for he’s done it for many years now. 

The other day he asked me to go to her house and check on a prescription she received in the mail. She could tell the bottle was different from her normal prescription, and she didn’t think it was the right one. So he sent me over there to verify if was correct. Which it was. 

Ian’s mom wasn’t sure about that, though, and she had me read out loud all the fine print to reassure her that yes, indeed, it was right medicine. We didn’t have any experiences doing that together. I knew she wanted to trust me, but she was nervous about it for Ian always took care of her medicine.

And I’m the same way with God. The more experiences I have with Him, the more I trust him because I’ve learned I can.

I recently scratched my corneas and when I was explaining to the ophthalmologist that everything was foggy, he said having scratched corneas was like looking out through a broken windshield.  And you know what? Sometimes that’s how I see God, too. In my brokenness, I can’t tell if he’s there or not. It’s like he’s in a fog. But as I grow to trust him more and more, I trust that he’s there even when I can’t see him. And he sees my brokenness. I can trust him to keep his eyes on me every minute of my day. The more experiences we have with God, the more we’ll see how utterly and completely trustworthy He is. 

Even though we probably know the definition of trust, how we feel about trust is a whole different matter for how do we trust God when we’ve learned -- through our life experiences -- that people aren’t always trustworthy?

God knows our feelings and gives the most trustworthy answer possible. He gives us His Son, who essentially says, “You’ve got my Word on it!” And we also have the nature of trust itself for the word means to attach yourself, to confide in, to feel safe, to be confident and secure.  Hannah trusted God; she attached herself to him. Regardless of the outcome. 

It rained last weekend, and in one of the worst droughts we’ve ever seen, that was reason for a hallelujah! After the rain, the butterflies in my garden looked like they were on steroids, swooping and diving and attacking those same zinnias with gusto.

And I thought, that’s what I’ve got to do. Attack God’s Word with gusto. Devour the Scriptures. Attach myself to God and not let go. And trust Him completely to fill any barrenness in my soul and to uncover what I’ve hidden from everyone else. 

As a high school teacher I can tell my students all day long to do certain things in a specific way, but it’s only when I show them how to do it and then have them do it themselves that they get it. I’m like that, too. I want to know how to do something. Don’t tell me to do it; show me how.  And embedded in the word show is the word how. God is the ultimate teacher. He doesn’t just tell us and He doesn’t just show us; instead, He shows us how.

So how do we move out of a barren state in our souls? 

Like Hannah, we are to stand up, attach ourselves to God, and confide in Him because it’s utterly safe to do so. Psalm 34:18 tells us that “The LORD is close to the brokenhearted.”  He’s with us in the midst of whatever mess we find ourselves regardless of whether it’s a mess of our own doing or not. And as we pour out and look up, He helps us stand up and takes us where we need to go.  

The other morning a friend of mine left me a superfluous amount of garden treasures on my back steps. Thanking her, I told her she was one of the most generous people I knew. These were cool garden toys, and it wasn’t the first time she brought me some either. And her reply was, “You’re fun to give things to as you’re always grateful and you get excited about even the smallest things!”

And I thought, “Whew! I wonder if God feels that way about me.” He gives me all these promises that are absolutely trustworthy, plus He gives me Himself. And He shows me how to do what I need to do. What do I look like to him? Does he see my excitement at discovering new treasures on my back steps? Do I express my gratefulness in a way that makes him smile? Does he see my appreciation and throw back his head and laugh because it makes him happy? Am I fun to watch?

Or do I worry about whether I can trust him? Whether or not He really means what he says? Oh, I want to be a better recipient of His gifts and trust him more and more each day!

After Hannah prayed, “her face was no longer downcast” (1 Samuel 1:18)  Why? Why was Hannah no longer distraught? She wasn’t miraculously pregnant like Mary. So why was she no longer upset?

Psalm 112, which could have easily been written about Hannah, describes what it’s like to have faith in God. In verse 7, the psalmist says, “He will have no fear of bad news; his heart is steadfast, trusting in the LORD” (Psalm 112:7).  Did you catch the first part of that verse? A man trusting in the LORD “will have no fear of bad news.” 

I think that’s what happened to Hannah. Whether she knew God was going to give her a baby or whether she received His peace which is beyond our understanding, she definitely had no more fear of bad news. Whatever the outcome, God gave her peace. Baby or not. That’s why she was no longer distraught.  Like the psalmist, Hannah poured herself out, trusted God, and had no fear of bad news.

To me, this verse emphasizes the need for us not to fear what God’s answer might be. Anybody need to hear that today besides me?

Hannah went from being a woman tormented by her family, misunderstood by her priest, and completely disillusioned with her life -- a woman known for what she did not have -- to a woman known for her great faith in God. A woman who had no fear of bad news.

Hannah prayed passionately for a child, and God granted her desire, but I think the emptiness in her heart symbolizes the yearning in all our hearts. For God has placed in each one of us desire for a child – a specific child – a child born in a manger over 2,000 years ago. Jesus.

And when we center our life on Him, He’s going to give us the peace that we need to handle everything else. But we don’t find that out until we actually need that peace and then go to him and pour out our soul.
 
Many of my students want a quick fix before the SAT test and we go over tricks to help them earn a few more points on their score. But a quick fix is simply a quick fix; it doesn’t really change the truth that you become a better reader by reading and a better writer by writing. I’m the same way. Sometimes I settle for a quick fix, which isn’t what makes the biggest difference in my life.  Being with God, spending time in His Word, and pouring out my heart. That’s what matters. That’s what makes the difference.

Driving through a storm on the way to visit us, our son said his wife would wake up every now and then and scream and then go right back to sleep. I’ve thought of that often for it reminds me of how I scream when something terrible happens, get a quick fix and see everything’s okay, and then go right back to sleep. Until I need him again.  

God gave Hannah her baby, but Hannah gave her son back to God. That’s not a quick fix. That’s a woman who learned that God was more than a quick fix. And as painful as it probably was for her to give her son to God, she had peace for God, too, knows what it’s like to give a son away.

Hannah’s son Samuel was involved in the writings of the two books that bear his name – First and Second Samuel. I wonder what it was like for him to write about his mother’s faith. I wonder how that impacted his life. For he was known as a great prayer intercessor, a man whose mother named him Samuel, meaning, “I am heard.” (1 Samuel 1:20).

And Hannah’s story leaves behind the sweet scent of hope for all of us who have felt bitterness of soul, who have wept much and prayed much, and who, from time to time, have lived in a dry and barren land and needed God’s peace.