Deeply embedded in me is a God-placed, aching Hannah cry. It’s a huge part of my identity, my mandate, and the ministry of my heart.  I can point back to the exact moment I recognized it was there, but I don’t know when it began. Simply put (and this is NOT doing it justice in the slightest, but I’ll explain as I write) a Hannah cry is a cry for the next generation to walk in the knowledge of God.

I’ve always liked kids. As a little child, when other kids were playing house with one Mommy, one Daddy and one baby, I was playing house with one Mommy, one Daddy, three babies, two toddlers, four school-agers and one teenager.  I was the slightly weird child that knew I wanted ten kids from the time I was a young kid myself. I was an only child until I was fifteen, so maybe I had a grass-is-always-greener complex about large families. At any rate, I began babysitting a young age. I wasn’t just any kind of babysitter, mind you. I brought a bag full of crafts and games with me. I spent 90% of my babysitting earnings buying more activities to do with the kids. In high school I never wanted to be a teacher, but I took a lot of child development/parenting classes anyway. I’ve always enjoyed children.

This can be attributed to a personality quirk or the like. Perhaps I just always wanted to boss someone around, so I gravitated towards those younger than me. I’m not sure. I do believe that whatever the reason, The Lord placed in my DNA an enjoyment of children. This might have been a Hannah cry in the making, or perhaps it was just setting the stage. At any rate, I can point to the very hour I felt it ignite in the depths of me.

Kirk Bennett visited Victory and did a sermon on Hannah’s and Samuel’s (I mentioned I was a fan of his teachings… this is where it all began for me). I was 18. As he spoke, a spark went off inside of me. At the end, he asked everyone 18 and younger to come forward. They were Samuels. The rest of the adults were the Hannahs and they were to pray for the Samuels. I went forward, but I remember the knowledge exploding inside of me. I am a Hannah. Bam! A download of my identity.

If you’re confused, go to 1 Samuel 1. Hannah cried out with groans so deep she appeared to be drunk. Of course, Eli’s prophetic insight was growing dim (He was supposed to be a seer, but his eyes were going out.) He was the priest and the one who had the right to have prophetic insight into what God was doing, but he was clueless when it came to Hannah’s heart. The point is, this was a deep longing. Personally, I believe it was more than a longing for God to cast off her shame. It was more than a longing to show her husband’s other wife she was worth something. It goes back to 1 Samuel 3:1 And the Word of the Lord was rare in those days. It goes back to Judges 2:10 When all that generation had been gathered to their fathers, another generation arose after them who did not know the LORD nor the work which He had done for Israel.

Hannah looked at her land, her people, and saw a famine of the Word of the Lord and the knowledge of God. Over and over again the Lord used Moses and Joshua to warn the people of Israel the importance of telling their children about the God who delivered them from Egypt. Over and over again they let Israel know it wasn’t just about them. Their children were to know the Lord too. They were to pass on the knowledge of God. I suppose life got in the way and they dropped the ball, because the next generation grew up with out the knowledge of God. They obviously knew enough about God to cry out to him when they were in trouble (see Judges), but they didn’t know God.

Hannah looked out at her nation and its barrenness and could identify.  She was fellowshipping with the Lord’s sufferings. Just as God ached for life to spring up within His people, Hannah longed for life to spring up from within her belly. She wanted to be a solution to the problem before her eyes. She vowed that if God would give her a child, she’d give him back to the Lord. If you think this would put an end to her reproach, to the questions and criticisms, think again.  Eli wasn’t exactly going down as Father of the Year. I’m sure she was hit with all kinds of judgment. After all, to all appearances, she abandoned her child. What an act of complete trust in the Lord. She would no longer have the weight of bareness on her, but the road she chose to go down instead was not an easy one.

So she ached and hungered inside. She groaned and wailed and fasted. She made a promise to God: end my barrenness and I will give the fruit of my womb (without guarantee that there will be any more children to follow) as a sacrifice to bring the knowledge of God back into my land. We know that God honors hunger and tears because He answered her request. Unto her a son was given, and as a prophetic picture of the way the Heavenly Father gave up His only Son, she gave him unto the Lord for the good of her nation. Samuel ministered before the Lord, in little priestly attire, even as a child. At 3 and 4 and 7 and 8, he was there. God redeemed Eli by giving him a chance to teach Samuel how to hear the Lord’s voice. Samuel’s words (and thus the Word of the Lord) went out to all Israel. Here we have someone in a priestly role who was also a prophet – another prophetic picture of the coming King.

There’s so much more to that story, but my focus here is on Hannah.

A Hannah is one who has eyes to see the barrenness of her land, her generation, her people. A Hannah is one who turns her heart to the next generation in order to birth the purposes of God through her natural or spiritual children. A Hannah is more than one who just likes kids. She is one who groans and yearns and aches for life. Not everyone is made to be a Hannah. We’re all called to pour ourselves into the next generation (and to look after the generation that went before us) but not all of us have that deep Hannah cry. Different people have different cries and burdens. We’re a body. Not all of us are eyes or ears. That’s the beauty of a body. But there are a number of Hannahs out there. Some of us know we are, and some of us have yet to discover it. Perhaps some of the 12 year olds who go on Jerry Springer because they just have to have a baby were designed to be Hannahs, but are pursuing it in the wrong way. Who knows.  But before you think that those who aspire mainly to motherhood are shallow and boring, consider that they might be part of a cooperate Hannah cry that can change the world as we know it.

Being a Hannah makes me kind of strange. Not only do I have passionate feelings against abortion (as in it’s not just a moral or political belief, but when I pray on the life line, I bawl to where people ask me if I’m okay). Not only do I want to give my life in working with children. I also have a deep compassion for women facing infertility problems. This is strange because normally, the people who can really identify with such struggles are those who have been through them previously. I, of course, haven’t. No problems getting pregnant here. But when I hear of a woman struggling in this respect, I get personally and prayerfully involved. Not just a “Oh God, help them” prayer, but a weeping, groaning prayer for life to come forth from their womb.

In Intro someone who was having infertility problems cames up to me and told me God told her to have me pray for her. This clued me into the fact that perhaps God has graciously given me some authority in this area. Not that everyone who I pray for automatically gets healed, but it has happened on occasion. (I don’t know if that particular woman was healed or not, but others have been). At any rate, it’s kind of weird to have someone you don’t know very well pray for you like that. But that’s who I am. I’m a Hannah.

Also, I get overly and joyfully excited when anyone gets pregnant. This can also be awkward when I don’t know you that well and I’m more happy for you than your mom is. I can’t help it. I’m a Hannah.

This is why I can’t do the birth control thing. It’s not that I judge anyone who does, or think they’re not trusting God. It’s just that, as a Hannah, how can I be a champion for life and then tell God “No. Not right now.” If this is truly my mandate and my identity, I must yield myself to it. If I never get to do anything of significance because I always have children to take care of (we may still be adoption when we’re grandparents – who knows!), at least I can say I have been faithful to the cry God has placed inside of me.

I don’t have to be the best parent in the world (Thank God!) I want to be faithful in what He has given me, but it’s not about my abilities. It’s about my yes. Some people are called to a specific nation. I’m called to cry out and groan as an intercessor for the next generation. I cry when I pray. I may look like a fool, but the Lord has given me a tender heart in this respect and I don’t want to harden it to appear respectable. Let people think what they want to think.

I will stand as a Hannah. I will cry out for life, for the Word of the Lord, and for the knowledge of God. I will keep having babies as long as the Lord lets me. I will be faithful to the race set before me. My children (natural and spiritual) are history makers. They’re going down in the books of Heaven.