The Lord did for Hannah what he loves to do: he shifted everything into reverse, making the bottom the top and the top the bottom.
We’ve heard this story before, a thousand times over. A family marked by mayhem. A marriage rocked by jealousy. An unhappy wife, bordering on bitterness. An obtuse, thickheaded husband. Prayers that seem to ricochet off heaven’s iron door. Hoping against hope for a change, for something better.
We know this story, some of us all too well. It also turns out to be a very biblical story, one repeated throughout the pages of Scripture.
This was Hannah’s story. You can read all about her in 1 Samuel 1.
One Husband, Two Wives
Hannah lived in the days when some men had more than one wife. She shared her husband, Elkanah, with a woman named Peninnah, who, outwardly at least, seemed to have heaven’s smile of approval. After all, Peninnah boasted sons and daughters, while Hannah’s womb was dry as the desert sands.
That was bad, obviously, but worse yet, Peninnah was a real, well, something that rhymes with witch and ditch. She would needle and goad Hannah, mocking her for her barren womb. Not exactly a contender for Co-Wife of the Year.
So what did Hannah do? She took her bottled-up frustration, anger, confusion, and storm of other emotions, and poured them all before the Lord. Her eyes showered tears and her mouth rained prayers.
She went even further. Hannah vowed, “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 Sam. 1:11).
Finally, rather than this prayer seeming to bounce back from heaven unheard and unanswered, Hannah conceived. A baby was born, and she “called his name Samuel, for she said, ‘I have asked for him from the LORD’” (1 Sam. 1:20).
Peninnah would go down in history as a selfish and shrewish woman, her children left unnamed, while Hannah would be loved and remembered, her son one of the greatest of the prophets. Hannah’s song became the very model and foundation for a similar song sung by Mary the mother of our Lord Jesus.
How’s that for a legacy?
Divine Reversal
The Lord did for Hannah what he loves to do: he shifted everything into reverse, making the bottom the top and the top the bottom.
Here is how Hannah sings of this divine upending of grace:
The bows of the mighty are broken,
but the feeble bind on strength.
Those who were full have hired themselves out for bread,
but those who were hungry have ceased to hunger.
The barren has borne seven,
but she who has many children is forlorn.
The LORD kills and brings to life;
he brings down to Sheol and raises up.
The LORD makes poor and makes rich;
he brings low and he exalts.
He raises up the poor from the dust;
he lifts the needy from the ash heap
to make them sit with princes
and inherit a seat of honor. (1 Sam. 2:4-8)
As John the Baptist was a forerunner to Jesus, so Hannah’s song is a forerunner to Mary’s song, the Magnificat, which she sings when the Son of God is enthroned within her womb (Luke 1:46-56). As a side note, it is a real travesty that Mary and Hannah’s songs are largely left unsung in churches today. They should roll off our tongues as readily and as often as do Psalm 23 and Amazing Grace.
Through her song, Hannah shines the brilliant light of hope into our blackest despair. Her words reach into our deepest pits not only to pull us up but to escort us to the seat of honor at the banquet of joy. Hannah hasn’t just written a bit of personal poetry about her unhappy family life. Far more. She has composed a hymn with cosmic ramifications and individual consequences for each of us.
What God did for Hannah, in giving her a son of renown, in removing her shame and replacing it with joy, and in silencing her mocking rival, is but the foretaste of the big plans he has for the world.
How so? As the song ends, Hannah says, “The LORD will judge the ends of the earth; he will give strength to his king and exalt the horn of his anointed” (1 Sam. 2:10). Days are coming, sings Hannah, when the Father will exalt the horn of his anointed, that is, the strength of his Messiah.
Another “Hannah,” this one a virgin in Galilee, betrothed but as yet unmarried, will be given a son of renown, the anointed one of God. This Son of Mary who is simultaneously the Son of God will remove all our shame by breaking the power of the adversary over us. He will stuff the mouth of our hellish accuser with dirt scooped from the floor of his vacated tomb. No more arrows from the satanic archer shall darken the sky overhead for Christ will break the bows of the mighty.
Along with Hannah, with Mary, and with all the downtrodden of the earth, we who hunger and thirst for righteousness will be fed, brought to life, raised up, and seated with honor because of Jesus.
Hannah sings, “My heart exults in the LORD” (1 Sam. 2:1). Mary sings, “My soul magnifies the Lord” (Luke 1:46). We echo both women, both mothers, for how can we not exult in and magnify the one who pours all of himself, all of his gifts, into us?
Thank you, heavenly Father, for Hannah, for Mary, for Samuel, and especially for Jesus, whose hand has reached into the darkest depths of woe to pull us into light, life, and freedom in himself. Amen.
