Walking On Sunshine

Several weeks ago, I found myself in the emergency room late one night with severe abdominal pain.  I had turned 50 just a month before and apparently my gallbladder had reached its expiration date.

All through the night, it seemed like whoever came into my room, nurse, PA, doctor—they all had the same question.  Had I taken anything for the pain?  What did I take for the pain?

To me, it was a very confusing question, maybe because the pain, and lack of sleep and lack of food made concentrating difficult, but eventually I said to the doctor, “I wasn’t aware there was anything that could help.”

I mean—right?  You don’t take Advil for a tummy ache.

What I didn’t tell the doctor was that I had tried something for the pain.

Prayer.

I had tried prayer.

Like many desperate people, I had turned to prayer and like many desperate people who turn to prayer, I tried to bargain with God and like many desperate people who turn to prayer and try to bargain with God, my end of the bargain was ridiculous.  And like many desperate people who turn to prayer and try to bargain with God by offering ridiculous promises, I believed one hundred percent in mine.  I would have done anything to make the pain stop.

And so I said to God, “Lord, if You stop this pain, I promise I will Never. Eat. Again."

Today’s readings highlight the stories of three mothers or mothers-to-be, Hannah, Elizabeth and Mary.  Really, these should have been our Mother’s Day readings from a few weeks ago.  All three women have one thing in common.  They all required a bit of divine intervention to become mothers.  But only one woman, only Hannah, became a mother after she made a bargain with God.

We tend to bargain when we are in pain, physical pain like I was in, but also emotional and spiritual pain.  Bargaining is widely known as one of the stages of grief.

So know that when Hannah attempts to bargain with God, she is suffering.  In that suffering, she asks God to give her a child and in return she makes what seems like a non-sensical offering.  She tells God that she will give that child back to Him, to serve Him.

It’s mind boggling.  If Hannah wants a child so much, why make a deal where God gives her the child and she gives the child right back (after he’s been weaned)—so almost right back?

What happens next is either inspiring or crazy—because God does give her a child, and unlike me who did not fulfill my end of the bargain when God took away my abdominal pain—in the form of a ragey gallbladder— (I am still eating), Hannah does exactly what she promised to do.  She gives Samuel to God.  She brings him to the temple and entrusts him to the priest Eli.

Samuel will go on to become a prophet and not just any prophet but the man who would anoint the first king of Israel, Saul and also Saul’s successor David and by doing so connect Jesus all the way back to a woman who prayed so fervently for a child that Eli thought she was drunk.  Hannah’s bargain, her decision, her promise to God winds up connecting her directly to Jesus.

And yet, her choice still seems so illogical.  It’s almost like asking God for a million dollars and when He gives you the million dollars, you hand it right back.

What is it that Hannah really wanted?

What if it’s more complicated, more nuanced than just wanting a child?

Hannah was married to man named Elkanah.  She was not his only wife.  His other wife had given him many children, but Elkanah seemed to favor Hannah.  He also seems to realize that Hannah is heartbroken over not being able to bear children.  And so he says to her, “Am I not worth more to you than ten sons?”

The Bible doesn’t tell us how Hannah answered but I imagine she answered in one of two ways.  Either she patted Elkanah on the shoulder and said, “Of course, sweetheart—of course you are worth more than ten sons.”  I imagine her with a sorrowful, wan smile.  Or perhaps she was completely honest and said, “No, no you are not—this isn’t about you, Elkanah.”

Perhaps she was just silent.

What does Hannah really want?

For pretty much all women at this time, having children was their purpose in life.  But this doesn’t seem to be Hannah’s motivation here.  Her husband has made it clear he loves her whether she bears him children or not.  Nor does it seem like a woman who felt her purpose in life was to have children would then offer said child right back to God.

So maybe Hannah wants a child to improve her social standing, to quiet people like Elkanah’s other wife who derides her and mocks her for being childless.  But that too doesn’t seem like the motivation of someone who would promise that child to God.

Hannah is not someone who wants a child just to have children.  She even references it in today’s reading, also known as “Hannah’s Prayer” or “Hannah’s Song” because it is very similar to Mary’s Magnificat, perhaps we can call this Hannah’s Magnificat.  Mary says, “My soul doth magnify the Lord,” (I love the King James Version here) and Hannah begins her song with “My heart exults in the Lord!”  I actually prefer the Message version which reads, “I’m bursting with God-news!  I’m walking on air.  I’m laughing at my rivals.  I’m dancing my salvation.”

In other words, Hannah is the living embodiment of that 1980s song by Katrina and the Waves … she is walking on sunshine and starting to feel good.

In her prayer, Hannah presents this list of opposites in regards to God’s strength.  He brings down.  He lifts up.  He brings death.  He brings life.  He raises the poor to sit with princes.  And then Hannah says something interesting about mothers.  She says, “The barren has borne seven, but she who has many children is forlorn.”

Becoming a mother to Hannah is more than just “heads in beds.”  It’s not a contest to be won.

Hannah doesn’t want a child just to have a child.  She wants—to borrow from another song, this time Queen—somebody to love.

To Hannah, motherhood is about love.

And because motherhood is about love, she can make that promise to God.  She can give Samuel back to Him.  She is not making a sacrifice.  She is making a gift. 

Samuel represents God’s most holy love.  God gifts Samuel to Hannah and she is so thankful and so filled with the light of that gift that it is not a hardship, not a sacrifice for her to share that gift with the world.  She wants to—she is compelled and propelled by her joy to share that love with everyone.

In Romans 12, Paul writes, “Love one another … rejoice in hope … rejoice with those who rejoice … be ardent in spirit ….”

“Let love be genuine,” he says or in other words, “Let your love be real.”

Hannah’s love for Samuel is real.  Her love for God is real and where the two intersect is when she presents Samuel to the priest Eli.

In the end, her bargain with God no longer seems foolish … it feels right … for her.

Ultimately, in those moments when we are desperate, and we turn to prayer and we try to bargain with God, we all want the same thing.  It’s more than just wanting a child like Hannah or relief from pain like my prayer in the hospital. 

What we truly want in those times is God, Himself.  We want His presence.  We want to know that we are watched and looked after.  We want to know that we matter to Him.  We want to be gifted with His love.

And He does.  He does gift us.  He does love us.  And that love requires no bargain on our part.  His love is unconditional. 

The only thing required of us is to not hoard the gift, but to share the love of God with others unconditionally as He has shared with us.

After all, that is exactly what I am doing with you now.  That night in the emergency room—and I told this story at Morning Prayer the other day—that night I was at just about the lowest I had ever been physically in my life.  I was in the restroom, bent over, hands on knees, seconds—seconds—away from passing out from pain.  I had been in pain before, many times in my life, but never anything like that night.

The emergency cord was too far away for me to pull, or I would have pulled it.

I was terrified and desperate and reached out to God in prayer.

And God spoke to my heart in that moment—I call it that still, small voice that speaks to us when the noise of the world is too loud to hear anything else.

God spoke to my heart and said, “You are right where you need to be.  Don’t be afraid.”

Yes, the hospital was right where I needed to be. 

But more importantly, I was there with God.

He was there with me, right where I needed Him to be.

God is here today with you, too.

May you feel the gift of His love, today.

May you know just how much you matter to Him.

And may you, like Hannah, walk on air in that knowledge and dance your salvation.

Amen.