A Crier's Heart: The Quiet Ache Within

It was in November 2000 that something from the Scriptures pierced my heart, and I began to cry.

I was alone in the church hall, waiting for my friend and brother, Yomi. We were working on a magazine together, and I needed to clear up a few details with him. He was running late.

I didn't realise that a female minister had been watching from a distance. When she saw me crying, she immediately came over to comfort me. Her kind words only made me cry even more.

When I finally calmed down, she handed me a sachet of pure water. I accepted it, even though I absolutely hated pure water back then.

After a few minutes, she gently asked,

"Do you want to talk about it? I know you don't know me very well, but you can trust me. A problem shared is a problem half solved."

I looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before replying,

"It's Hannah."

"Hannah?" she asked, puzzled. "Who is Hannah? Did she do something to you?"

"Well... in a way."

Honestly, I wondered how I was going to explain everything without sounding completely crazy.

"Ma," I asked carefully, "do you have time to listen without thinking I'm losing my mind?"

"You are not crazy, Edith," she said. "I may not know you well, but I've always admired you from afar. So tell me, what did Hannah do to you?"

So, I began.

"I Was Crying Because of Hannah.

The Hannah in the Bible.

Hannah was married to Elkanah, and according to Bible history and the notes in my concordance, they had been married for ten years without children before Elkanah took another wife. According to Jewish customs of that time, he was within his rights to do so. His second wife then proceeded to give him as many children as he desired.

And I found myself crying because I could feel Hannah's pain.

I believe her deepest wound went beyond the mockery of her rival. I think much of her pain came from her husband.

Ordinarily, some people would never dare disrespect you under normal circumstances. But disrespect often begins when they are given a platform you've stood on for years and suddenly believe they've outdone you and no longer owe you the regard they once gave you. It's like when a housemaid suddenly becomes a co-wife.

Peninnah dared to mock and provoke Hannah because Elkanah had placed them on the same level. They were both his wives; they had become contemporaries.

I cried because I realised that perhaps Elkanah never truly loved Hannah the way people often assume.

You don't deliberately become the source of pain for someone you love. You don't claim to love someone and yet fail to understand the depth of their grief.

Elkanah asked Hannah, "Am I not better to you than ten sons?" But I couldn't help asking in return: Was Hannah better to him than ten sons?

Why demand a level of devotion you have not first demonstrated?

The fact that Hannah was drowning in pain and he neither fully saw it nor adequately addressed it is another heartbreaking detail.

I think Hannah eventually came to a painful realisation; her help was not in her husband.

She realised he wasn't the support system he should have been.

She realised she was walking a lonely road.

Did you notice that when she finally poured out her soul before God, she went alone? There was no prior discussion with her husband about the vow she intended to make. No conversation about what she was about to entrust to God.

Why would a woman choose such a solitary path if she had found understanding, comfort, and support at home?

"But to Hannah he gave a double portion because he loved her, and the Lord had closed her womb."

— 1 Samuel 1:5 NIV

Elkanah failed Hannah, and Hannah knew it.

There is a unique pain in loving someone wholeheartedly, giving them your best; only for them to conclude that you are not enough. It is even more painful when they go outside to compensate for what they perceive as your inadequacy; and then bring that "better option" into your shared space.

I strongly believe God always intended for Elkanah and Hannah to be Samuel's parents. I believe the waiting season had a purpose; it was meant to refine them, to help them see a bigger picture, and to prepare them for the extraordinary sacrifice of willingly releasing their son back to God.

God did something similar with Abraham and Sarah. He did it again years later with Zachariah and Elizabeth.

Thank God Hannah discovered, before it was too late, that even when human love disappoints, God's love never fails. She went to the One who is Love itself. She sought comfort, reassurance, and help from Him. And He heard her.

I cry because so much of this heartache might have been avoided if Elkanah had taken his stand and properly exercised his responsibility over his home.

He wasn't the only man in Scripture whose wife struggled with barrenness. Isaac faced the same situation. However, Isaac did not seek comfort in the arms of another woman. Instead, he went before God and pleaded on behalf of his wife; and God answered him.

"Now Isaac pleaded with the Lord for his wife, because she was barren; and the Lord granted his plea, and Rebekah his wife conceived."

— Genesis 25:21 NKJV

This is what love looks like. This is what responsibility and leadership are about.

I don't expect you to agree with me, Ma. But you asked why I was crying. Now you know."

She stared at me for a moment before asking,

"You were crying over a Bible story that happened thousands of years ago?"

"Yes," I replied with a smile. "As I was reading it, it felt as though it had happened today."

Then I shrugged gently and said:

"This is who I am. I am a crier."