Hannah was in deep anguish, crying bitterly as she prayed to the Lord. 1 Samuel 1:10 NLT
What I wanted the most, I couldn’t have.
Life stunk … at least the part that kept me from having a child. I had heard about women in a neighboring country aborting their children. I suppose just because they thought having a child would inconvenience their lifestyle. I couldn’t imagine. I wanted a child so badly I couldn’t imagine terminating a pregnancy just because of inconvenience.
I tired of the gossip and of the busybodies running their mouths. “Did you hear Hannah can’t have a baby. Such a shame. I can’t imagine.” I knew what they really thought. They thought I had committed some secret sin, and God was punishing me by not letting me have a child. I admit, sometimes I wondered that myself, but deep inside I knew better.
The fact that my husband had another wife who made fun of me too didn’t help. Living in a house with another woman and her children was almost more than I could stand. I considered leaving, but where would I go and how could I support myself. Helping care for children who weren’t my own only made me want children even more.
My husband didn’t understand. Sure, he did things for me he didn’t do for his other wife. Little extra things he thought would help ease my pain. I appreciated his efforts, but they didn’t take away my grief. I wanted my own child. Nothing he gave me … no extra attention he showed me … would make up for a child.
Every year when our little family traveled to the Tabernacle to make a yearly sacrifice to God, the other woman would make my life miserable. Finally, I reached my breaking point. After we all left the Tabernacle, I decided I’d return. The old priest sat nearby, but I didn’t talk to him. I went straight to the altar and poured my heart out to God. “God, I haven’t sinned on purpose. You know I love You. If You will give me a son, I’ll give him back to You so he can serve You all the days of his life.”
I was scared to pray out loud, so I just whispered. The old priest accused me of being drunk, but I told him it was just the anguish and embarrassment speaking.
I must admit, I was surprised when God actually answered my prayer. I know He doesn’t always answer prayers the way we want Him to, but this time He did. So out of appreciation—and to keep my word—I took my son, when he was old enough, back to the priest. And, of course, he remembered me as the drunk woman who wasn’t really drunk.
Sometimes, God just lets us get to the breaking point before He breaks through.
Prayer: Father, when we reach our breaking point, remind us You are there with us.
Tell us about a time when you reached your breaking point.
Tweetable: Have you reached the breaking point?
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