"O Lord of hosts"
Scripture to follow:
1 Samuel 1:10-17
Have you ever found yourself in a place of feeling lost? Lost as to what direction to go and why this season of your life is playing out the way it has? Lost as to whether you are being seen or heard? Not too long ago I found myself in this place. It all came to a breaking point one night where my mind couldn't process one more self imposed question. The kind of tears that seem to never stop coming finally fell. I call that kind of cry a soul cry. It comes from the deepest place of your soul when you have a lot to let go of but are grasping to hold on to so much more all at the same time.
I have walked through a valley period more than once in my life, but like those of us who have had some life and under our belts will attest, no matter how you have proven to yourself you can make it through the valley seasons, some are different than others. This one felt different. More significant. Like a key point in the character building process where everything seems to come to a standstill. The life you thought you were living comes to a halt and you’re left with the worst kind of questions and fears. The ones you can't address on your own. The ones that cause you to admit you need something bigger than yourself. Maybe that actually makes them the best kind of questions and fears. Through tear strangled attempts to find some long deep breaths to steady myself, I asked this question over and over: Where are you? The faith has been declared; the prayers had been prayed but the miracle hasn’t come. Neither has the answer as to why. So where are you? Do you hear me? Do you even see me? After some time had passed and those deep breaths returned, I felt a familiar knowing tug on me with direction to open my Bible to 1st Samuel.
Confused, I flipped to the first chapter and there was Hannah. In a story I hadn’t read at least a decade was the heart of Hannah laid out in black and white and holding the same deep sadness I was feeling in that very moment. Her pain was written as a bitterness of the soul. (1 Samuel 1:10) She was described as a woman with a sorrowed spirit pouring her heart out to God. I felt Hannah, and I were kindred spirits. She had a prayer so sacred and important to her that the manner in which she was praying over it led her priest, Eli to mistake her for being drunk. (1 Samuel 1:14) That’s some deep praying. I felt seen.
When Hannah positioned her heart to address God, she called upon him as Lord of hosts. (1 Samuel 1:11) This title is one with militaristic roots, literally translating as "Yahweh Sabaoth", the Lord of armies. It recognizes the depth of God’s sheer power and protection and reminds us in the fights we can not control, He goes before us stands in our place to do what only He can do for us. I can't leave out the significance of the Holy Spirit leading me to this scripture, because Lord of hosts was the same exact title I had used to call out to Him minutes before led me to read Hannah’s prayer. Let this be a reminder that God who stands with you is a living breathing God. The same God who hears your tears and questions in the quiet space is the same One who will go forth and fight without ceasing on your behalf.
I don’t know where you find yourself today, but if you are in a valley moment of your own, please know you are not alone. You are seen, heard, and fought for. If the valley is where we walk separated from the things of this world we hold closest to our hearts, maybe it’s also the place we walk to closest to the one who never leaves our side.
I have walked through a valley period more than once in my life, but like those of us who have had some life and under our belts will attest, no matter how you have proven to yourself you can make it through the valley seasons, some are different than others. This one felt different. More significant. Like a key point in the character building process where everything seems to come to a standstill. The life you thought you were living comes to a halt and you’re left with the worst kind of questions and fears. The ones you can't address on your own. The ones that cause you to admit you need something bigger than yourself. Maybe that actually makes them the best kind of questions and fears. Through tear strangled attempts to find some long deep breaths to steady myself, I asked this question over and over: Where are you? The faith has been declared; the prayers had been prayed but the miracle hasn’t come. Neither has the answer as to why. So where are you? Do you hear me? Do you even see me? After some time had passed and those deep breaths returned, I felt a familiar knowing tug on me with direction to open my Bible to 1st Samuel.
Confused, I flipped to the first chapter and there was Hannah. In a story I hadn’t read at least a decade was the heart of Hannah laid out in black and white and holding the same deep sadness I was feeling in that very moment. Her pain was written as a bitterness of the soul. (1 Samuel 1:10) She was described as a woman with a sorrowed spirit pouring her heart out to God. I felt Hannah, and I were kindred spirits. She had a prayer so sacred and important to her that the manner in which she was praying over it led her priest, Eli to mistake her for being drunk. (1 Samuel 1:14) That’s some deep praying. I felt seen.
When Hannah positioned her heart to address God, she called upon him as Lord of hosts. (1 Samuel 1:11) This title is one with militaristic roots, literally translating as "Yahweh Sabaoth", the Lord of armies. It recognizes the depth of God’s sheer power and protection and reminds us in the fights we can not control, He goes before us stands in our place to do what only He can do for us. I can't leave out the significance of the Holy Spirit leading me to this scripture, because Lord of hosts was the same exact title I had used to call out to Him minutes before led me to read Hannah’s prayer. Let this be a reminder that God who stands with you is a living breathing God. The same God who hears your tears and questions in the quiet space is the same One who will go forth and fight without ceasing on your behalf.
I don’t know where you find yourself today, but if you are in a valley moment of your own, please know you are not alone. You are seen, heard, and fought for. If the valley is where we walk separated from the things of this world we hold closest to our hearts, maybe it’s also the place we walk to closest to the one who never leaves our side.
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