Baby Blues

Today we move from the book of Ruth to 1 Samuel, and as we do that, we are not moving into a different time in history. We are still in the days when the judges ruled the people of Israel.

But like we talked about a few weeks ago, in the Hebrew Bible Ruth was not actually a part of the main history books of the Old Testament. It was tucked away with the writings, sometimes coming right after Proverbs, where Ruth stands out as a living example of the worthy woman of Proverbs 31.

The main flow of the Bible's history books moves from Judges right into 1 Samuel. And in fact 1 Samuel opens up as basically a continuation of Judges. In Judges 17 we read, “There was a man of the hill country of Ephraim, whose name was Micah” (Judges 17:1). In chapter 19, we read, “In those days, when there was no king in Israel, a certain Levite was sojourning in the remote parts of the hill country of Ephraim” (Judges 19:1).

And here 1 Samuel opens with, "There was a certain main of Remathaim-zophim of the hill country of Ephraim."

This is cast as just another story of a certain man living in the heartland of Israel—the hill country of Ephraim—who, we'll find out, has connections both to the tribe of Levi and the town of Bethlehem, just like the other two stories.

So here's what we need to understand: this story starts out squarely in the times of the judges, those chaotic years after Moses and then Joshua died, when Israel had no king and everybody did what seemed right in their own eyes.

In fact, the book is named for Samuel, the last judge of Israel, who passed the baton of leadership off to Israel's first king—Saul. But we don't get to the issue of the kingship until chapter 8, when Samuel is already old. Until then, we're in the times of the judges, seeing all of the reasons why Israel needed a king.

And then we'll see how Israel's first king was the man they deserved but not the one they needed. Saul rises and very shortly falls, and all of that sets us up for the rise of David—which we'll save for a future series in another couple of years or so.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves. We know where we're headed, but let's dive in to where this story begins.

A Barren Woman and a Clueless Husband (vv. 1-8)

“1 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. 2 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” (1 Samuel 1:1–2).

This man, Elkanah, lives in the hill country of Ephraim, and we find out from the book of Chronicles that he is a Levite, something we could assume from the fact that his son goes on to work in the tabernacle. He's referred to as an "Ephrathite," which can be translated "Ephraimite," but is best understood as connecting him to Ephrathah, another name for Bethlehem. We get a brief genealogy, which suggests that this is a somewhat important man. That's reinforced by the news in verse 2 that he had two wives.

There's no question that polygamy was a major blindspot in ancient Israel. But something that's easy to miss as we read the Bible is that polygamy wasn't really all that common. Normal Israelite men only had one wife. Only the very powerful and rich could afford to pay a dowry and support a second wife.

So Elkanah must have been a man of means. The particular reason he has to wives is suggested in the rest of verse 2: Peninnah had children, but Hannah had no children. It's very possible that Hannah was his first wife, and he only took a second wife when he found she was unable to bear children.

Now we've just come out of Ruth and our ears should be perking up at the sounds of this. We know that bearing offspring was such a big deal to the people of Israel. And we also know that from Sarah, to Rebekah, to Rachel and Leah, to the mother of Samson, to Ruth herself, women who were unable to bear children have played a very important role in the unfolding story of God's people. In fact, it is to women who were unable to bear children that particularly important children were often given by the Lord.

We're expecting this by now, and wondering what's going to happen.

We have to be patient, though. We find out more about Elkanah in verse 3 that he used to go up year by year to worship and sacrifice to the Lord of hosts at Shiloh, where the tabernacle would have been set up, and the high priest Eli served with his sons Hophni and Phinehas.

In a day when people were often in full-out rebellion to the Lord, we get a snapshot here of Elkanah as a devout man. Sure, it sounds like he only goes up once a year instead of the three times a year that Israelite men were supposed to go, but given how terrible things were in the days of the judges, it sounds like he's doing pretty good.

Verse 4 tells us that when he would sacrifice, he would give portions to his wives and children.

That's because there was one important type of sacrifice the people of Israel would make—peace offerings, or fellowship offerings—in which only a portion was offered on the alter to the Lord, and the rest the offerer would eat. It was like sharing a meal with the Lord.

Meat wasn't incredibly common those days, and so offering this yearly sacrifice at the tabernacle was maybe like their equivalent of Christmas dinner. Elkanah would give portions of meat to his whole family, but he'd give a double portion to Hannah his wife, because he loved her.

Don't take this for granted. In this day and age, women were not always treated very well. Divorce was pretty easy. Other men would have sent Hannah away if they discovered they'd not be able to have children with her. But Elkanah loved Hannah and made it obvious in front of everybody else that she had a privileged position.

How do you think his other wife liked that? Not very well at all. Verse 6: "And her rival [what a title!] used to provike her grievously to irritate her, because the Lord had closed her womb."

People who say, "look, polygamy is in the Bible so it must not be a big deal" miss that every single time we read about multiple wives, it never works out very well. It's always a mess. If you want to know why polygamy is a bad idea, just read how the Bible describes it! Look at this mess: two women, each having something the other doesn't. For one, it's children; for the other, it's their husband's love.

And there's Hannah. Can you imagine a worse situation? Sharing a husband with another woman who has children when you don't, and has made it her mission in life to torment you? Awful. “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” (1 Samuel 1:7).

Why only this time of year? Maybe they lived in separate homes and only saw each other this time of year. Maybe it was the double portion of meat that prompted the cruelty. But for Hannah, this yearly event, where they are supposed to be rejoicing and celebrating in God's presence, turns into misery.

Not just because of Peninah's cruelty, but no doubt also because of the reminder that they were there to worship the one person who could do something about this—the Lord—who hadn't done anything about it. And if Hannah knew anything about the covenant promises, that would have been even worse for her. God was supposed to bless the fruit of their wombs, wasn't he? What was she doing wrong that Peninah wasn't? Why was God treating her this way?

And adding to the pain of it all was a clueless husband. Verse 8: “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?’” (1 Samuel 1:8).

I mean, what are we even supposed to say about this? But husbands in the room, haven't we all been in this spot before? "What's wrong, honey?" when the answer is right in front of our noses. "Hey, you get to be married to me. You should have nothing to be sad about." Oh, poor clueless Elkanah, not the first and not the last in a long line of husbands who can't imagine their wife being sad for any reason being around such a great guy as themselves.

A Broken Woman and a Clueless Priest (vv. 9-18)

The Vow (vv. 9-11)

This particular year though, this broken woman takes her burden to the one safe person left in her world, the one person who can actually do something about her situation. After everyone else had enjoyed their happy meal in verse 9, Hannah gets up, heartbroken—"deeply distressed" as verse 10 puts it—and she prays to the Lord, weeping bitterly.

This is the same word for the weeping of Ruth and Orpah and Naomi at their parting. This is not just wet eyes but full-out weeping. And in her sadness, she prays. Notice that Hannah hasn't said anything to her provoking rival. Nor has she said anything to her clueless husband. When she speaks, she speaks to God and pledges a vow to him.

Her vow is structured as an if/then vow. She promises to do something if the Lord does something first. And we need to understand that making vows to the Lord in this way was a common practice for the people of Israel. Lord, if you do this for me, I will do this for you.

This wasn't about bargaining with the Lord. This wasn't about manipulating him. The vows that they fulfilled were a way of thanking and praising God for answering their request.

And this was so common that in the Psalms, "fulfill my vows" is basically a shorthand phrase for thanking God for deliverance. “13 I will come into your house with burnt offerings; I will perform my vows to you, 14 that which my lips uttered and my mouth promised when I was in trouble” (Psalm 66:13–14).

So here is Hannah's vow:

“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” (1 Samuel 1:11).

There's four things she asks the Lord to do, each of them just a different way of describing her core request. She says, "if you will indeed look on the affliction of your servant.”

She is deeply afflicted, both by her lack of a child in a culture and religion in which having children was everything, and by her husband's rival wife who rubs her face into her pain every chance she gets. Hannah wants the Lord to look on this affliction—to not miss it or look the other way, but to notice her.

Second, she wants the Lord to remember her, and third, to not forget her. This fairly sums up how Hannah felt, no doubt. Like the Lord of Hosts was too busy for her, paying attention to other things and forgetting poor Hannah. Don't forget about me, she prays.

And finally, the gives the specific request that she was building up to the whole time: "give to your servant a son." She doesn't just want a child, she wants a son, a male heir who can carry on the name and legacy of her husband.

This is her request of the Lord. And what is the promising to do if the Lord answers her request? "Then I will give him to the Lord all the days of his life, and no razor shall touch his head."

Hannah promises that if the Lord grants her request, she'll bring him an offering of the one thing she could bring: the very son she would receive from the Lord.

She will give the child to the Lord, and no razor will touch his head. We should know that these are not two separate requests. The mention of the razor touching his head is her way of mentioning a special religious practice in Israel known as the Nazirite vow.

First described in Numbers chapter 6, a Nazirite vow was a special way that someone would dedicate themselves to the Lord for a certain length of time. This might have been one of the common vows that was made: "Lord, if you deliver me from this trouble, I'll be a Nazarite for the next three months" or whatever they'd say.

And for that whole season of special separation to the Lord, they weren't to drink any alcohol or cut their hair. And when their time was up, they would mark this by cutting their hair.

The Apostle Paul, as a faithful Jew, performed a Nazirite vow even after becoming a follower of Jesus (Acts 18:18), as did others (Acts 21:23-24). Maybe this is something we need to talk about more—that even as New Covenant Christians, it may be appropriate for us to say, "Lord, if you do this for me, I'll give something up for a season as a way to express my thanks and praise to you."

Hannah does this here with the Lord, except that instead of promising to devote herself to the Lord, she promises to devote her son. And instead of devoting him for just a short period of time, she promises to devote him to the Lord for his whole life. "Then I will give him to the Lord all the days of his life, and no razor shall touch his head."

This is yet another callback to the story of Samson, where the angel told Manoah's wife—who also couldn't have children—that her son should have no razor tough his head all the days of his life.

There's no angel here, but Hannah tells the Lord: if you give me a son, he'll be yours for life. And we find out in a few verses that she meant this quite literally. She would bring this child to the tabernacle where she'd only get to visit him once a year.

See, Hannah didn't want a son just to enjoy for herself. She just wanted the Lord to write her a part of the story He was telling, to take away the curse of not being able to contribute to the fruitfulness and multiplication of his people.

And so she prays.

The Misunderstanding (vv. 12-16)

And in that moment of incredible vulnerability, Hannah encounters another clueless man, this time the priest of the Lord. Remember back in verse 9 that "Eli the priest was sitting on the seat beside the doorpost of the temple of the Lord"? Hannah is being watched. Verse 12: “12 As she continued praying before the Lord, Eli observed her mouth. 13 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” (1 Samuel 1:12–13).

These verses tell us more about Eli and the house of God at that time in history than anything else. Hannah had been weeping, her eyes wet and red, and any sensible man who had been around anybody who had ever prayed earnestly for anything wouldn't have missed what was going on here.

Maybe Eli's eyesight was starting to fail. Maybe Eli was a lot more used to seeing people drunk than seeing people praying, because he makes the assumption that she's intoxicated. And decides to give her a scolding. Verse 14: “And Eli said to her, ‘How long will you go on being drunk? Put your wine away from you’” (1 Samuel 1:14).

The irony here is that Hannah had just pledged to make her son a Nazirite, which means he wouldn't have been able to drink wine his whole life. There's further irony when we compare this to the story of Samson, because the angel there told Samson's mom she wasn't allowed to drink any strong drink.

But here, the clueless priest, without asking questions, without seeking clarity, jumps in with accusations that are not true.

And immediately Hannah defends herself. “15 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. 16 Do not regard your servant as a worthless woman, for all along I have been speaking out of my great anxiety and vexation’” (1 Samuel 1:15–16).

It's not hard to discern Hannah's eagerness that she not be misjudged. That would almost be too much.

The Blessing (vv. 17-18)

And Eli believes her. I mean, anybody could tell by her speech that she's not drunk. He doesn't say sorry, but he does give her a blessing: “Then Eli answered, ‘Go in peace, and the God of Israel grant your petition that you have made to him’” (1 Samuel 1:17).

The Hebrew here is a little unclear: is Eli praying something like, "May the God of Israel grant your petition?" Or is he making a prediction, saying, "The God of Israel will grant your petition?" Both are possible. And either way, Hannah is respectful and encouraged. “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” (1 Samuel 1:18).

Even through the lips of clueless Eli, Hannah has received assurance that her prayer has been heard.

A Remembered Woman and a Baby Son (vv. 19-20)

And as we turn to the last two verses in our passage, we find out that, indeed, the Lord heard her prayer and had not forgotten her. Hannah is remembered. Verse 19: “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” (1 Samuel 1:19).

“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’” (1 Samuel 1:20).

The Lord gives Hannah exactly what she asked for: a son. And so she names him Samuel, שְׁמוּאֵל, which means "heard of God." Hannah knew that the Lord had heard her.

Conclusion & Application

That's where we end today. Hannah's response to the Lord comes next week. So it might feel like we want to keep going this morning, which is a good sign.

But we stop here because, even just given the 20 verses we've seen to far today, there's some important truths for us to reflect on as we consider what it means for us to live out our part in the story today.

Cluelessness

The first has to do with cluelessness. What can we learn from the cluelessness of Elkanah and Eli? And let's just acknowledge right away that this is not the main point of this passage. Their cluelessness is a backdrop for the actions of a righteous woman. But still, it's here, and we'd be a little clueless to not reflect on their actions for just a few moments.

Husbands, when your wife is suffering, do you know it? Do you know how it affects her? Do you know that being married to you, as great as that is, doesn't erase all of her other pains and struggles? 1 Peter 3 says, "Husbands, live with your wives in an understanding way." Are you walking with her and loving her and supporting her through the sufferings of this life?

And we could flip it around. Believe it or not, when men suffer they have feelings too, and we often need a bit more time and a bit more help to figure out what they are and how they're affecting us. Husbands often need their wives' patience and help in this regard.

And beyond marriage, as brothers and sisters in the church, we should care about the sufferings of our brothers and sisters, and not make it worse by asking stupid questions like, "Hey, you've got me in your life; what could possibly be wrong?"

Let's think about Eli's cluelessness. Like so many of us do no naturally, he saw a situation, he assessed the situation, he came to a conclusion about the situation, and he passed judgement—and he was flat-out wrong because he didn't investigate or ask questions.

Like Eli, we can be so quick to judge. So quick to assume we've got a situation cased, we've got all of the information, we don't need to ask questions. It seems so obvious to us. And we judge and criticize, and a lot of the time, we're wrong. As wrong as Eli was with Hannah.

Think of how many times you've been misjudged. Consider that every person who misjudged you was probably just as confident in their judgement of you as you've been about everybody else.

So what's the alternative here? It's not just refraining from judgement. It's a whole humble approach to relationships that assumes there's a lot we don't see and don't know. And this causes us to approach other people with open-handed curiosity, actually paying attention to them instead of resting on our assumptions and first impressions.

So here's a very practical suggestion to put this into practice: next time you leave a conversation, ask yourself, "How many statements did I make compared to how many questions I asked? How much of that conversation was just me saying stuff, telling people what I think, compared to getting to know other people with love and curiosity?"

Approaching people with humble curiosity will remind us of how much we don't know, and this will be a guardrail that keeps us from jumping to harmful conclusions.

Infertility

Let's talk next about infertility. That's a big issue in this passage. It's a big issue in the Bible. And it's a big issue in the lives of many couples that I have known. When a couple wants to have a child, and cannot have a child, it's extremely painful.

No doubt that was a big part of Hannah's pain. Wanting a child of her own, and watching another woman enjoy that without experiencing it for herself.

There is a major difference, though, between Hannah's suffering and the suffering of a Christian struggling with infertility today. For Hannah, bearing a child was the main way and one of the only ways that she, as a woman, could contribute to the growth of God's people.

For us in the New Covenant, that's not the case anymore. God still blesses many Christian couples with children, many of whom go on to believe in Him and join His people. But in the New Covenant, God is not primarily growing his people through physical birth but through spiritual birth. Which means that our priority is not just to have babies of our own, but to help other people's babies be born again.

And if you make a list of some of the most fruitful and faithful Christians throughout history, you'll find many people on that list who never had a child of their own. People like C.S. Lewis and and Corrie ten Boom and the Apostle Paul, who were fruitful and multiplied and made disciples out of many.

This is one of the fulfillments of Isaiah 54:1: “‘Sing, O barren one, who did not bear; break forth into singing and cry aloud, you who have not been in labor! For the children of the desolate one will be more than the children of her who is married,’ says the Lord” (Isaiah 54:1).

Please hear what I'm saying and what I'm not saying. I'm not saying that, in the New Covenant, infertility is no longer a form of suffering. It is. But I am saying that it is not identical to the suffering that Hannah experienced. In this new era begun with Christ's resurrection, there are all kinds of ways for us to be spiritually fruitful beyond having children of our own.

And sadly, when a Christian couple does not understand the differences between the Old and the New Covenants, stories like Hannah's can add to their pain. Why did God listen to her and not them? And some couples torment themselves with thinking they just need to pray even harder or cry more tears or spend insane amounts of money on fertility treatments, some of which have serious ethical concerns.

I know some couples who prayed for years for children, and God said "yes" in His good time. I know of other couples who, just like a single person desiring marriage, realized that God had a different plan for their life than their own. With tears, they laid at his feet their dream of bearing children and found their lives full of New Covenant fruitfulness.

My sister flies to Romania tomorrow and I can't help but wave a flag here for thousands of orphans in this world, many of whom are seriously disabled, and while it's neither easy nor cheap, adoption probably needs to be on our radar way more than it is.

And let's just finish this section this way: while acknowledging the pain of physical infertility, we should each be haunted by the possibility of spiritual infertility. Do we beg God for spiritual offspring the way Hannah prayed in this passage?

Pain

Finally, let's talk about painful seasons in our lives. God intended to give Hannah a son. But He chose to give her that son on the other side of years of tears. Like we saw last week with Ruth and Naomi, God so often does this. He so often puts us in impossible situations, keeping us there long enough that we know He is our only way out.

Are we okay with that? The answer depends. The answer depends on whether we just want an easy life, or whether we want to know God more. Jesus taught us to pray, "Hallowed by thy name." "May your name be honoured as holy." And if that's our real desire—for God's name to be glorified—than we'll understand that the hard chapters bring more attention and more glory to Him than a lifetime of ease ever could have.

It doesn't make the pain any less painful. But it does mean that the pain isn't pointless—it's for something, it's doing something.

And one of the big things it's doing is pressing us in close to the Lord. Making us see how much we need Him. And helping us to fellowship with Jesus in our sufferings.

We remember that Jesus understands our suffering because nobody could ever suffer as much as He did. The cries of Hannah—"don't forget about me"—are fulfilled in the cries of the cross, where Jesus asked why His father had forsaken Him.

But because Jesus tasted that level of pain for us, we can know that in our pain we are not abandoned. He is walking with us as we walk down the same painful path that he trod. And just like Him, on the other side of our suffering is glory.

That's not just some pie-in-the-sky way to end a sermon. Some of you are really hurting today. And there's a man from Nazareth who gets it. There's a man from Nazareth praying for you in the throne room of heaven. There's a man from Nazareth who is inviting you to know Him deeper through your suffering. There's a man from Nazareth who is one day closer to coming back for you to rescue you and be with you forever.