“There is no holy one like the Lord; there is no rock like our God” (1 Samuel 2:2).

It’s a rainy day, and my coffee is getting cold. There seems to be sorrow all around me. Be they from online news or from friends, I keep receiving reminders that life is a vale of tears.

We all carry a cross. We all know pain.

Sometimes, a cross may make us feel isolated and abandoned. We might overlook the sufferings of another. We might diagnose others’ lives as idyllic, free from injury, and painfully ignorant of “what it’s like to be me.” This unholy urge trains us to compare and assume. We may give way to acedia or keep ourselves from growing in resilience, becoming spiritual hypochondriacs. Even worse, we might ignore God’s grace, grow bitter, and believe our own injury is greater than the immense, all-consuming love of God.

When we find our cross particularly heavy, we can seek solace in the saints and Biblical stories. One story I have found helpful is the story of Hannah. She is only discussed in two chapters of the Bible (Samuel 1 and 2), so, despite her incredible tale, she is easy to overlook.

Who Was Hannah?

Hannah was married to Elkanah, who loved Hannah deeply (1 Samuel 1:5). Yet, Hannah struggled in their marriage because she was infertile, and she was not Elkanah’s only wife. His second wife,  Peninnah, was abundantly blessed with little ones. Understandably, the dynamic between these two women was imbued with pain. Making matters worse, Peninnah tormented Hannah because “the Lord had closed her womb” (1 Samuel 1:6).

Hannah was miserable. Her husband attempted to comfort her by insisting that their spousal love was greater than the pain of infertility. While his dedication is poignant, it did not erase the unique agony of infertility, nor did it put an end to Peninnah’s cruelty. For Hannah, it would be nearly impossible to not be plagued by comparison and feel inferior and broken.

Throughout her agony, Hannah prayed ceaselessly. She vowed to dedicate her child to God if He would grant her one. On one occasion, as she prayed, the priest, Eli, witnessing her messy tears, wasn’t moved to compassion but lectured her; he believed she was drunk and frivolous: “No, my lord … I am an unhappy woman. I have had neither wine nor liquor; I was only pouring out my heart to the Lord” (1 Samuel 1:15).

Eventually, God answered Hannah’s prayers, she had a son, Samuel. In her glory and rejoicing, she kept her vow. Instead of keeping her son to herself, as soon as she had weaned him, she took him to Eli and dedicated his life to the Lord.

God as Our Advocate

Hannah knew suffering. She lived with it. It polluted her home. She dealt with worry, longing, abuse, and emptiness, and she probably questioned her own self-worth. 

But what astounds me is how Hannah embraced her trials. She truly bore her cross.  There’s no explosive scene where she finally gives Peninnah a piece of her mind. We never see her taking vengeance by smearing Peninnah’s reputation. We don’t even see her complaining to Elkanah about Peninnah.

By today’s standards, she’s not an “advocate” for herself. Instead, she lets God be her advocate.

This isn’t to say we should be doormats. Rather, when it comes to our own trials, before anything else, we need to turn to God. We need to have the unshakable understanding that our worth comes from Him.

When we are consumed by the actions of others—by the sins of others—we invite discord into our heart. We dignify the petty muck of the world and clog our heart with grime instead of filling it with God’s grace, love, and forgiveness.

Are You Drunk?: Navigating False Accusations, Gossip, and Gross Assumptions

Hannah poured out her woes to God, and instead of greeting her with compassion, Eli questioned her sobriety. Talk about a miserable day—but Hannah wasn’t outraged or mortified. She was calm and sincere, simply stating, “Not so, my lord.” She informed the priest that she was praying to God for a son and that she was deeply unhappy. Her response was direct, simple, and even gracious.

Social media has made false accusations and insane assumptions trendy.  Comment sections are filled with name-calling, accusations, and so forth. But this lack of charity taints many facets of our culture, sometimes even our own hearts and minds. How quick are we to rashly assume someone’s motivation or choose to believe the worst about someone, whether it’s a co-worker, spouse, or sister?

It’s never easy to be falsely accused, gossiped about, or have people assume the worst of us. And it’s just as miserable to be the one gossiping and assuming.

Like Hannah, we should trust that God is our advocate and make Him our first priority. In doing so, not only will we detach ourselves from gossip when we are falsely accused but, like Hannah, we will also be able to act from a place of grace, rather than unbridled passion.

Understanding the Power of Your Emotions

Emotions are neutral, but they often get out of hand, leading us to say things we regret or to be overly reactionary.

Hannah didn’t stifle her emotions. We see her weeping. We know she was in agony. The key point, though, is that she took her pain to God. She used prayer to process her emotions, and, as a result, she operated from a place of charity. 

It’s far too easy to mishandle our emotions, which is why it’s important that we take the time to process them. Crying over spilled milk, flying off the handle, or clamping our heart shut are all poor ways of navigating (or, more accurately, not navigating) our emotions.

Prayer is a powerful solution. We can call upon the Holy Spirit to guide us, and we can turn to the foot of the cross for help. Christ, in His humanity, had perfectly ordered emotions. He can teach us how to order ours.

On Our Best and Worst Days, Praise God

Hannah’s story is not all sorrow; ultimately, it is one of joy. She gave birth to a baby boy, Samuel, and she rejoiced in God. In doing so, she fulfilled her promise by dedicating Samuel to God.

When Hannah prayed for a son and vowed to give him to God, she wasn’t bribing Him. She wasn’t acting out of desperate panic but promising that in being blessed by God, she would not forget Him.

Children are not “things” we are entitled to. They don’t arrive on our terms but as gifts from our Heavenly Father, ultimately belonging to God. They are His children first. It’s our job to say “yes” and freely collaborate with God’s will, whatever it may be.

It’s radical, and it’s scary. It won’t look the way we envisioned it. Hannah knew this, and in receiving a son, she chose to live out sacrificial love by offering him back to God—foreshadowing the role of the Blessed Mother, who, in saying “yes” to God, also said “yes” to giving Christ up to the cross.

How often do we forget God after praying through a stormy season? Maybe after years, we receive what we have been longing for, and instead of still staying focused on God, we forget Him. How easy it is to try and make a Heaven on earth, wanting things to always go our way!

But Hannah reminds us that we must live for God always, be it our best or worst day.  Our celebrations and sorrows will become interwoven throughout the drama of life, but our solace, our joy, and our everything will be found in our Heavenly Father.

In the end, Hannah went on to have three more sons and two daughters. Her story is so important for women today. Her sufferings and steadfastness make her a model of faith and a sister who has much to teach us in our own everyday trials.

Ann Burns is the founder of The Feminine Project, an organization dedicated to restoring the joy of womanhood. She is a writer and speaker, and strives to uphold what is truly good and beautiful. Most of all, she is a wife and mother, and loves to share the joy in living each day well.