Leshem Shamayim: “For the sake of heaven.”

I am sitting here in the dark, in the cold, surrounded by many but completely alone. Has Yhwh forsaken me? For what reason is my Lord angered with me? How have I invited His wrath to fall upon me? A sickness that kills rages throughout me, it is one of despair, of emptiness with little chance of hold. But there is still chance to hope, a change that I may yet be of use to my G-D. For would He not agree that my most fulfilling service to Him on this earth would be as a mother? If I could find another purpose in this life, I would cling to it as my service, my offering to the Lord Almighty. What have I to give Him if He will not give me a child to offer up to His service?

Adonai, is my request unreasonable? I thought it just the reasonable place of every woman to be a mother to another of Your servants, to raise up sons to lead Your people and daughters to be their aids? How can I be but a burden to my husband, how can I have any sort of meaning in this world if I cannot fulfill even that which is normal, that which You expect from me? It is you Adonai, who has made me unfit for your service. It is You who prohibits my natural obedience. What am I to do, if even my G-D is against me, if even He has turned from and rendered me worthless without even allowing me opportunity?

Were I a man, I could at least be a soldier and fight in Your armies, Adonai, if I could not be a father. I could serve as a prophet; I could lay down my life for Your Honor and Glory. But I am a mere woman, what more have I to give that would bring You Honor? My shame is Your shame, Adonai. It would have been better for Your glory if I had never been born, or if my miserable existence were to end on this earth. Have I not given my life into Your hands for Your Glory? How will You be glorified through my misery, through my shame? I am torn, Adonai, I am caught in the middle of honor and shame. I have given up all, and yet You deny me what I could give back as an offering. I have nothing left to give, why should I life? How is unfruitful ground suited for anything but burning, that the ashes left behind might be cultivated after years of desolation? Why should I live if I cannot serve my G-D?

It was You, Adonai, who made me woman, who took the only gift I could give, who left me devoid of anything. And so, my life is worthless to all, including You; Yet on the other hand, You saw fit to give me the life, to place on me the burden of shame, to make me a worthless woman. Should I try to live as a man, bind myself to some service and attempt to redeem my unfruitfulness? How can I, now that I am married. My husband grieves at how I revile myself for my worthlessness to You. But.. I am worthless to You, am I not?

Is his love the answer to Your paradox, a barren, cursed woman? You created me, O Adonai, without purpose, at least tangible purpose, but I can see him, I can feel his confusion. “Am I not better to you than 10 sons” he asks. Adonai, have I been ungrateful. Is my purpose hidden from me, because of my despair? Adonai, what is this knot You have woven, taking me from the norm, what am I to give to you? I have besought You for a son, that I have vowed to return, is it so much to ask? But… I can only see with my eyes. You give me his perspective, but what is Yours, Adonai? What is my purpose here? How long shall I languish before Your altar with no sacrifice? Will I suffice? If You will not take me, give me a son to give back to You.

Give my soul, peace, Adonai, and let me sacrifice obediently before Your throne.
I, Hannah, await Your word.

‘And when she had weaned him, she took him up with her, along with a three-year-old bull, an ephah of flour, and a skin of wine, and she brought him to the house of the Lord at Shiloh. And the child was young. Then they slaughtered the bull, and they brought the child to Eli. And she said, “Oh, my lord! As you live, my lord, I am the woman who was standing here in your presence, praying to the Lord. For this child I prayed, and the Lord has granted me my petition that I made to him. Therefore I have lent him to the Lord. As long as he lives, he is lent to the Lord.”And he worshiped the Lord there.’ (1 Samuel 1:24-28)

My son is no longer my own; my little one I called  “Sha’ulme’el,” Samuel, the one I ‘asked of God.’ It was for the blessing of this child that I prayed, that I fasted, that I entreated my Holy Father night and day until He gave me the desire of my heart. But such a great gift which came at so dear a cost to my very soul is far too precious to be kept in my arms. I had him until the age of three, when he was no longer dependent on me for life, and set out to bring him to the Lord’s house, just as I had promised. Those three years were a battle between my promise and my heart. I wanted to keep my son, what mother would not, especially after battling the Lord for him so severely. This child embodied my very faith and hope in Yahweh. My Samuel was the Lord’s blessing to my heart, the balm which soothed a broken soul, thought I know it was Yahweh who was the healer and completer of my faith, of my soul.

That first year, the first time I held my little Samuel in my arms, I was tempted to keep him, to hide myself away from Yahweh, to hide my face from Him and retain my child. I remembered the nights I had spent on my face before Yahweh, my tears freezing to the stone floor, so cold was my heart. I remembered how abandoned I felt walking that lonely road before the Lord, the places I stooped to in my dejection… the frailty of my arms, the concern in my husband’s face as I faltered in my steps, the scorn of that other woman. I remember how as I languished before the Lord, wasting away in grief of my soul, I became unfit to stand even before my husband– I looked as one dead, I would not eat… and my hands were raw with wringing, my eyes red and burning with salty tears. I remembered how far from the Lord I felt in my times of separation from Him, and there was a place too painful to unnecessarily return to, despite what pain I may suffer at His hands.

So I battled my heart into a place where I desired to honor my God by sacrificing the crown jewel of my heart, my only son. By doing so, I might have forfeited my place as Elkanah’s wife, did he not love me. My people would say I have been cursed, and doubly cursed for giving up the very proof of God’s provision to me. But I had sworn it, and that oath convinced (not compelled) my heart to sacrifice its greatest treasure. My three years of conversation with Yahweh transformed a resentful heart, fated to sacrifice by a rash oath made in thankfulness to a truly grateful heart, so moved by the goodness of my Lord that I most naturally handed over to Him that which I had suffered to bear, both in body and soul.

As I placed little Samuel in Levi’s arms,  I shook, certain that I did not know what I was doing, but that the Lord had persuaded my heart. Walking away from the temple after my sacrifice, both of beasts and son, I realized that I had asked God to give me suffering, and He had, and I was praising Him for it. Thus I left my heart in the temple, prostrate before the throne of God, ready to be slain or raised up. Thou, O Lord, are a shield for me, I echoed the psalmist, You’re my glory, You lift my head. And restore my hope.

‘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.” The man Elkanah and all his house went up to offer to the Lord the yearly sacrifice and to pay his vow. But Hannah did not go up, for she said to her husband, “As soon as the child is weaned, I will bring him, so that he may appear in the presence of the Lord and dwell there forever.” Elkanah her husband said to her, “Do what seems best to you; wait until you have weaned him; only, may the Lord establish his word.” So the woman remained and nursed her son until she weaned him. ‘ (1 Samuel 1:20-23)

As I rejoiced in the LORD, I tried to understand why it would be to me that He has given hope of redemption. It is hope that has kept me alive thus far and the grace He has bestowed to me by supplying that which I requested astounds me. And while it was what I have desired most, it is not what I specifically asked for from the LORD. My heart is so futile, so fleeting, I desire what catches my heart… like a young child chasing a butterfly, so my heart pursues what it desires for a moment until it flitters away, out of my grasp. And I am left chasing the wind… an empty, meaningless pursuit… yet that is not what God gives me, something empty.

I asked for a son, He gave me my Samuel. Better than I asked, but He’d changed my heart by that point to ask for a son. He restored my hope in Him rather than in His promises. He had to lead me to the depths of despair, where I had to choose to give up the ghost or remain in hope… it is a lonely place, where we learn to trust God for our dreams of the divine inspiration, when nothing around us contributes to that hope we are seeking to cultivate. But obedience truly is a lonely place in this place of reality, but I, I have always been an idealist.

In seeing God’s fulfillment and knowing that such fulfillment with break my heart, because I have pledged to give it back to my God. He gives me what my heart desires in order than I may fully give it back to Him, after He teaches me what I really need in order that I may give my greatest desire back to Him in worship. I have one of those husbands who would not ask me to submit who I am to partner with him; rather, we would be a perfect compliment if were not for the other woman. He prays, as I do, that “only, may the Lord establish His word.”

‘Then Eli answered, “Go in peace, and the God of Israel grant your petition that you have made to him.” 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. 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. 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 1:17-20)

I, Hannah, was met by a priest who thought my plea before God was that of a drunken woman. I was dying, my heart was as my body… withering from within. And the same priest who had crushed my heart a moment before with an untimely rebuke that convicted me to my core raised up my heart from its place of misery. He did not know how his words affected me, how they showed me my sin before God in languishing in despair… when my God has given me life… wishing for death when he withholds blessing from me: Who am I to set out the requirements for the continuance of my life? Does God not hold life and death in His hand? Who am I to stand before God and say “No more, Father.”

And my God used His ignorant servant to convict me and restore my hope.  My hope rests in the Lord, not the bestowing of any blessing. My heart may lie raw and torn upon the altar of the Lord, but it is not my circumstances which will determine my obedience. My heart has been heavy with a feeling that was not of God, a longing for what He did not give me. I wanted resolution, I wanted to know my God would give me my hearts desire; and he is… he just has to change the desire first. Waiting does have a purifying effect on the soul… it gives God time to change my desires to His, and energizes me with the strength to obey in spite of the circumstances. And yet as my heart changed, God gave me what I had originally asked for, a promise of it. I chose to believe.

Yet I was not sure what it was this man promised me from God. So to God, I said  “Let your servant find favor in your eyes.” God, give me grace to continue whatever you give me. It was painful to be blessed by God. He crushed my heart to change my desires that I held so stubbornly. And He humbled me with His promise of the best in exchange for obedience. And then he overwhelmed me with His goodness and blessed me beyond what I could imagine. Sing, my soul, unto God above. The way is long ahead, but I have hope. Spe salvi.