Hannah 2

Samuel is a figure that looms large in redemptive history--the epic figure who bridged the time of the judges when there was no king, to the time of the monarchy. The one who anointed the man after God’s won heart, David. A time of silence from the Lord, to an active, speaking, intervening prophetic ministry. He brought light into darkness, hope into ongoing cycles of oppression, the word of the Lord into silence. It was not as great a revival to end all revivals, but it was a pivotal time of steering Israel back toward Yahweh.

Behind Samuel stood Hannah and a prayer.

A prayer.

The author does not tell us how many others hand not bent their knees before other gods and who were joining in Hannah’s prayer for change. Nor is it the magical formula, or the fervency of a one-shot prayer. Yet it stands: one prayer from one broken woman that changed the world.

“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, ESV

She presented her prayer and her plan to God--and he heard and “her” plan was God’s plan. The Spirit must have whispered to her spirit, who then rose forth in passionate plea: Use me. Use my son. We are yours. Divine power met her anxious words and history was changed.

Hannah fades out of view, and--other than the powerful echoes of Mary’s magnificat (Luke 1:46-55)--is not mentioned again as far as I know. She stands as a pray-er in pleas and in a prophetic song, a pray-er who God used as his channel for his intervention. As her prayers rose up, his power came down.

Our prayers, too.