A Posture of Prayer: Three Ways Hannah Teaches Us to Talk to God

“There was a certain man of Ramathaim-zophim of the hill country of Ephraim whose name was Elkanah the son of Jeroham, son of Elihu, son of Tohu, son of Zuph, an Ephrathite. He had two wives. The name of the one was Hannah, and the name of the other, Peninnah. And Peninnah had children, but Hannah had no children” (1 Samuel 1:1–2).
 
Meet Hannah. She’s one among several people who enters the pages of Scripture with a description of what she lacks. Like Rachel and Rebekah before her, she belongs to a people in covenant with the God of abundance—yet here she is reckoning with a barren womb. Yahweh, the God who splits seas and showers bread from heaven has not, for some reason, given her a single child. 
 
Infertility—it’s a familiar grief spanning families and centuries, but we need not desire children to relate to Hannah’s predicament. Core to this story is another experience common to believers across genders and generations.
 
All of us have, in some way, longed for something we have yet to see. 
 
All of us have waited on God. We’ve petitioned Him. Possibly for healing or marriage or salvation of those we love most. 
 
Maybe, like me, you’re waiting even now. 
 
And listen—spoiler alert: Hannah’s story doesn’t offer a guide to getting all we want from God. But it does offer a noteworthy approach. Through the example of Hannah—an honest, bold, and humble servant—we learn how to posture ourselves before God in prayer, regardless of what we seek.

1. Hannah is both honest and faithful in her prayers.

1 Samuel opens during a celebratory season of feasting, but Hannah is clearly not in the mood. Weeping, she shows up to worship and her crying is neither showmanship nor manipulation, as with the pagans. She’s overflowing from anguish deep within, and as one who prays without audible words, she knows sound isn’t needed. Her God definitely reads hearts. But her hurt is so fierce it’s obliterated her appetite, and she knows she doesn’t have to choose. Not between honest prayers and faith-filled ones.  
 
Broken-hearted yet hopeful, she has returned to the house of the Lord. The Lord who’s been hearing her prayers. Month after month. While her body aged and a second wife joined her home. Hannah looks to the God of her ancestors—the One who can but has not—and still sees Him as worthy of reverence and prayerful pursuit.
 
To pray in faith is not to deny pain or weariness. We don’t have to box up grief and slide it under the bed before we dare to bend our knees in prayer. 

Like Hannah we can hold grief in the same space as faith and petition our Father who desires both our faith and our authenticity.   
 
2. Hannah talks to God like she knows Him.
She calls him “Lord of Hosts” because she recognizes that she’s speaking to One full of power and authority—sovereign over kingdoms and wombs. 
 
When answered prayers are pending, we can always review His character and call to mind what we know for sure. Surely He is “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness” (Exodus 34:6). He’s generous (Matthew 7:11) and near to the broken-hearted (Psalm 34:18). Every decision is from Him (Proverbs 16:33) and He works everything together for our good (Romans 8:28).
 
We also know that He doesn’t answer all of our prayers in the way that we’d hope. Maybe it’s not the time or the will of the Lord. Perhaps our ill motivation is the cause. Regardless, we're certain that hearing “no” is never because God rejoices in our suffering, and there’s always grace to guide us through the grief. 
 
3. Hannah is persistent, but she has a relaxed grip on the gift.
Hannah vowed to dedicate her good gift to God before she was certain of the ETA, and upon arrival her mind was unchanged. Hannah dedicates her baby to the One to whom he truly belongs. The baby’s name itself is a testimony: Samuel, meaning “offspring of God.”
 
Every good and perfect gift comes from above and gifts once given still, in some aspect, perpetually belong to Him.  
 
This birth—this boy—would be for God’s purpose and glory. Samuel would be the final, righteous judge Israel needed for its transition to a monarchy, but also—praise God—a tangible kindness to a praying woman along the way. 
 
That’s the beauty of God: He’s always multitasking.  
 
He’s concerned with grand cosmic plans and the ordinary longings that keep us up at night. What a privilege it is to speak to the Almighty One who bends low to listen.
 
Hannah knew this for sure.
 
On the other side of one answered prayer, she keeps that same energy and belts out another in 1 Samuel 2: 1-2, declaring:
 
“My heart exults in the Lord; my horn is exalted in the Lord
 My mouth derides my enemies, because I rejoice in your salvation.
 There is none holy like the Lord: for there is none besides you;
there is no rock like our God.”
This we know for sure.