The Grace Beyond the Defeat
Rev. Dr. DeWayne L. Davis
November 17, 2024
Scripture: 1 Samuel 1:4–20
As the nation settles into the reality of the outcome of the most recent election, there are a lot of think pieces and analytical articles going around trying to explain what happened, what it means, and what it says about the electorate. I’ve primarily avoided all but a few of these. Still, one thing in a few of them resonated with me, and I think it helps us understand the personal motivation behind our participation in our democracy. No matter who we supported in the election, everybody who participated in the democratic process did so because they were concerned about the future. For many, that concern reached beyond the superficial or the temporary to become existential. Every issue tested in the polls and exit polls highlights a concern about the future. What will happen to me? What will happen to my children? What will happen to the tribe to which I belong? Will I lose what I have? Will I lose my status? Do I have a future?
In our text today, at this moment in the history of the people of Israel, the underlying question, biblically and historically, is whether Israel has a future. God’s chosen people have fallen into “moral and political anarchy” since the days of Moses and Joshua. The book of Judges closes with a disturbing coda that sets the context for the story of Hannah: “In those days there was no king in Israel; all the people did what was right in their own eyes” (Judges 21:25). Now, we meet Hannah, one of the most important biblical figures in Judaism and Christianity, the mother of the prophet Samuel, who will be the God-chosen maker and anointer of kings, the one through whom God works to secure Israel’s future.
Hannah’s story begins in sadness. Like many of the matriarchs of the faith, Sarah, Rebekah, and Rachel, Hannah is barren. The theological trope of the infertile woman is the tip-off to us that God’s grace and providence will be needed to shift the trajectory of history. Hannah’s barrenness is put before us to see if or how God will show up for a people despairing about the future. Hannah’s situation is compounded by the people around her who are anything but helpful: her husband’s other wife, Peninnah, ridicules and mistreats her; her husband, Elkanah, who, though he loved her deeply, self-centeredly believes his love can make up for her grief and the cultural marginalization of women; her religious leader, the priest Eli, misunderstands her completely, accusing her of being drunk even though she is at her most trusting. Not only is Hannah struggling to make sense of her situation, she is also being robbed of her worth and dignity. The issue at stake here is the future. For Elkanah and Hannah, to be barren means that there is no future. For Israel, if Samuel is not born, there is no future.
Hannah did what the faithful do in times of fear, anxiety, defeat, and desperation, especially about the future: she went to worship. She went to where God inhabits both the space and the praises of God’s people. But she doesn’t stand on ritual or tradition; she prays to God about her pain. She dispenses with the rituals and sacrifices of the tradition and appeals directly to God through her own words. She may be the very first biblical character to pray privately to God without God initiating the conversation. In the persistent, direct address to God without help from the priest, Hannah admits to God that her spirit is hardened, but she is pouring out her soul before the Holy One. In the context of prayer and sacrifice, Hannah could be honest at the place where God was present. She could lay bare her deepest pain and fear. She could say exactly how she was feeling. She could endure being patronized by her husband, ridiculed by her rival, and misunderstood by her priest for the sake of laying it all out before God.
Even in the worship space, Hannah has to fight for her right to engage with God for the sake of her future. Eli is confused by her agency and audacity. When he sees her speaking silently in prayer, he thinks she is drunk. Hannah doesn’t hesitate or shrink at that accusation; she defends herself. She is persistent: I’m not a worthless woman but a servant who needs God to hear and remember me. And Eli is moved to a benediction that reminds them both that God listens to God’s people: God grant you the petition. With that benediction, with Eli’s pronouncement of God’s grace and faithfulness, Hannah leaves no longer sad, desperate, or anxious. The worship experience, the communing with God in prayer, fortifies her, lifts her spirit, and reminds her that she has a future. For all she knows, and we know, she is still barren, but after attending worship, prayer and benediction have shifted the atmosphere. “Her countenance was sad no longer” (1:18c). We don’t know how long it was between this moment and when Hannah finally conceives, but before the prayer is even answered, she finds her faith, her joy, her reassurance. Some time later, Hannah conceives a child that she will name Samuel. There is a future. God, indeed, remembers Hannah.
I hope we find peace in the priest’s benediction, just like Hannah did. It affirmed God’s willingness to hear and understand the anxious cries of faithful and trusting people, especially those on the margins, oppressed and disinherited. God’s compassion may not come to us in the miraculous conception of a childless woman, but compassion, nonetheless, is how God reveals God’s self in times of grief and disappointment. God’s remembrance of us may not occur in the dramatic display of a supernatural miracle, but that God remembers God’s beloved creation keeps open the possibility of newness and possibility. That may just be how God lays the groundwork for God’s agenda beyond the defeat, beyond our limited view of things.
I also hope we spend some time reflecting on Hannah’s example and the place of prayer and worship when we are experiencing defeat and fear of what may happen in the future. Remember, as desperate as Hannah’s situation was, she did not devolve into resignation and hopelessness. She does not acquiesce to the status quo. She does not rely on bland aphorisms to cheer up or look on the bright side. Instead, she holds God accountable for God’s promise to do a new thing and secure the future for her and for Israel. That promise remains operative for us, too. God has promised us life, and that more abundantly. Let our grief, fear, and anxiety be the impetus for an honest appeal to God to hear and remember us. God is faithful and just during great pain, struggle, and desperation. There is grace beyond the defeat. There is a future because God’s got work to do in the world. The disciples and followers of Jesus experienced that grace beyond defeat when they found the tomb that was supposed to hold his body empty.
We all have been in that place when our prayers have gone unanswered. We’ve had that concern that God is absent or has abandoned us in need. Since the elections, so many people have been struggling to see a hopeful future and despair about all the ways that they will continue to lose, be targeted, be demeaned, and be attacked. Many of us have experienced the waning or potential loss of faith when the future seems closed off. Meanwhile, my email has been flooded with possible plans to jump immediately to problem-solving and agenda-setting to turn things around immediately. But sometimes, we start whatever we are going to to do by going to God in prayer. Sometimes, it helps to cry out in pain before God. Our penchant for problem-solving and agenda-setting, especially in our concern about the future of our nation, should not forestall going into God’s presence to speak honestly about our hurt and to ask God to remember us.
And so, we are in the right place. When we gathered for our post-election evensong, we were in the right place of prayer and worship, where we appealed to God to remember us and to remember the vulnerable and disinherited. This isn’t about how we can make God do something specific. This isn’t a claim that God will answer every prayer we utter. This isn’t an assurance that there will be no more grief, pain, or suffering. This is a testimony that God remembers, that God is present in our defeat, and that there is always newness with God. There is possibility. There is grace beyond the defeat, despair, and discouragement we feel now. There is a future.
God’s theological agenda is all about the future. By God’s grace, there is a future. No matter how bad things look now, how absolute the barrenness seems to us, there is grace beyond the defeat. It secures the future and transforms it even when the reality of now appears barren and hopeless. God’s unstoppable grace flows from God’s willingness to remember us, especially when we are at our most desperate. In light of God’s faithfulness, may your countenance no longer be sad. May the assurance of God’s grace open you to the future. May it be so.
