1 Samuel 1:7 This went on year after year. Whenever Hannah went up to the house of the Lord, her rival provoked her till she wept and would not eat.
I sat with God the Monday after New Year’s. I spoke with Him, and He spoke back to me. It was an intimate and sacred time of communion, and that conversation led me to the story of Hannah.
While Hannah’s story spans only the first two chapters of Samuel, it is filled with deep lessons about God’s perspective, divine timing, and His will. But the aspect I find most powerful is what Hannah’s story teaches us about pain and suffering within God’s will.
So let’s talk about the difficult truths that often get muddled in faith—the hard things we all walk through but can barely speak about.
Some doors that close are closed by God.
It’s not always the devil.
It’s not always something wrong with you.
It’s not always a flaw.
And it doesn’t always mean you lack favor.
What feels like rejection may actually be God’s perfection for you—divine timing that includes not only your heart’s desire, but the present and future prayers of many.
The key word is some.
Some things truly are out of reach because of consequences, sin, choices, or life itself. But today, I’m speaking about the doors God shuts—doors no man can open until He decides to open them.
1 Samuel 1:5–7
“But to Hannah he gave a double portion because he loved her, and the Lord closed her womb. Because the Lord closed Hannah’s womb, her rival kept provoking her in order to irritate her. This went on year after year. Whenever Hannah went up to the house of the Lord, her rival provoked her till she wept and would not eat.”
Hannah was favored by her husband—he gave her a double portion. But the line that stands out most is this: “The Lord closed her womb.”
It does not say Hannah was barren.
It says the Lord closed her womb.
And just in case we missed it, Scripture repeats it again. This was not accidental wording. It was the Lord who closed Hannah’s womb.
What do we do with that truth?
Hannah’s childlessness was not her sin, not a lack of faith, and not an attack from the enemy. This was God’s doing. Imagine being Hannah—perhaps unaware it was the Lord, while others made her life miserable because of something God Himself had ordained.
What does this tell us about God?
What does it tell us about our perspective when things don’t go as planned?
How is God still good in this?
In just these two verses, we see how deeply Hannah is affected. Her rival tormented her—not briefly, not lightly—but for years. “Year after year” is one of the most relatable phrases in Scripture.
How often do we feel that year after year God has hidden His face from us?
That He has forgotten our desires?
That He has rejected our prayers?
How often do we pray the same prayer year after year, battling shame and disappointment? How often do we fear it will never end—and quietly wonder if God has abandoned us?
Has it crossed your mind that God may have closed this door—not only intentionally, but for your good?
Could you imagine someone telling you that?
We read Hannah’s story with the gift of hindsight. But Scripture isn’t here to make us say, “Wow, that’s interesting.” It’s meant to teach us who God is—and how to trust Him in similar seasons.
There are layers of wisdom in this story. Below are a few of the lessons Hannah’s life has taught me.
God’s Greater Narrative
I’ve heard pastors say, “It’s not about you.”
And while that’s true, it often feels incomplete.
God has a plan, and although we know this, free will often makes us forget His sovereignty. Yes—our actions matter. But our choices are already accounted for in God’s plan. There are things His invisible hand is orchestrating for purposes far beyond us.
Hannah’s story pulls back the curtain.
Her story opens the book of Samuel during a major transition in Israel’s history—from the time of judges to the era of kings. The final and one of the most significant judges of Israel was hidden inside Hannah’s seemingly closed womb.
Hannah’s desire for children aligned perfectly with God’s will. She was never meant to be barren. She would later give birth to Samuel—and five more children.
But the timing of her suffering was essential—not only for her, but for Israel.
Pain—and Even Ongoing Anguish—Has Purpose
If Hannah was meant to have children, why did God close her womb?
Why allow years of torment?
Why provoke her to tears year after year?
Why did this pain consistently occur right before worship?
One morning, the Holy Spirit answered this for me.
There is no Samuel without a mother who, in her anguish, cries out to God and vows, “If You give me a son, I will give him to the Lord all the days of his life.”
If Hannah had conceived easily, there would be no vow.
No desperation.
No Samuel.
Her pain produced a prayer God had already planned to answer.
Hannah wanted a son.
Israel needed a judge.
God knew the current priests’ sons would not walk righteously. In His omniscience, He prepared a solution. Samuel would judge Israel, anoint kings, and usher in the messianic lineage through David.
God’s answer to Hannah’s prayer wasn’t just for her—it was for the world.
There Is a Time for Everything Under the Sun
As Ecclesiastes says, there is a time for everything. There was a time for Hannah’s womb to be closed—and a time for it to open.
Waiting does not nullify God’s promise.
We see this throughout Scripture—Abraham, Joseph, Moses—people who waited decades. Waiting does not mean abandonment.
God’s timing is perfect, and it accounts for generations—not just individuals.
What Hannah carried was weighty. She wasn’t only birthing a son; she was birthing a divine shift in history.
Hannah Was Never Barren
Hannah’s womb was not barren—it was closed by the Lord.
There is a vast difference.
Her suffering drove her to surrender what she loved most. Her sacrifice blessed Israel and foreshadowed God giving His own Son for salvation.
Some desires burn deeply because they are meant to drive us to Jesus’ feet.
The wait may be shaping you to carry what you’re meant to birth.
The Way of Suffering Is the Way of Christ
Hannah’s anguish led to surrender.
I told God once that I don’t like His way.
And Jesus understood.
He prayed the same prayer—“Let this cup pass.”
Yet He still submitted.
Isaiah 53 calls Him a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.
If we follow Christ, we walk His path—suffering before glory.
“Do not be surprised by the fiery trial…” (1 Peter 4:12)
Suffering is not strange—it is the way.
So the question is not why suffering exists, but whether we truly want to be like Jesus.
May those who have ears, hear.
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