Sermons on 1 Samuel (Page 3)
The Septuagint’s own division and naming of these books offers a clue to how 1 Samuel 1-7 forms a single unit, not a loose collection of stories. Shiloh’s fall and Jerusalem’s later judgment, read through Jeremiah, follow the same pattern of God’s holiness meeting unfaithfulness. Christ’s own journey is already prefigured across these seven chapters.
Hannah effectively dies to her son in 2:11-18, giving him up entirely, and just as clearly rises again in verse 19’s picture of ongoing provision. The rich young ruler’s dilemma in Matthew 19, and Peter’s own question about reward, run on the same logic Job already learned. We give ourselves away to nothing in order to be found in Christ.
Reading the Old Testament in light of the New means learning to see Christ in Samuel himself, not merely finding proof texts. Hannah’s yearly sacrifice in verse 19 carries a significance easy to miss: an early picture of what baptism will mean for women in the new covenant. John’s own writing about Christ’s coming depends on this same way of reading backward.
Hophni and Phinehas turn the priesthood into something that serves themselves rather than God’s people, the exact opposite of how Christ and Paul both ministered. Their abuse of the sacrifices anticipates every later abuse of the Lord’s Supper. Ministry and sacrament are essential to the church precisely because Hophni and Phinehas show what happens without them.
Philippians’ own logic, giving yourself away for the sake of the gospel, frames how Christ, J. Gresham Machen, and Hannah each disappear into a larger purpose. Hannah herself vanishes from the narrative almost entirely once her song is sung. That disappearance is not a loss but the whole point: she gave herself away.
Verse 10 eclipses everything that comes before it in Hannah’s song, the real climax the earlier verses were building toward. Speech itself is a major theme running through the whole song, God’s own word exalting Hannah as much as any action does. Mary’s song in Luke 1 picks up exactly where Hannah’s leaves off.
‘Exalt’ and ‘shattered’ anchor Hannah’s song, two words that together capture God’s swiftness and intensity in dealing with his enemies and his own. That same intensity secures the perfect vindication and glory reserved for the elect in heaven. Nothing about Hannah’s confidence here is tentative.
Hannah’s song is built with real poetic structure, even a chiasm, and that craft serves a larger point: true prayer is event-driven, not idea-driven. Moses’ song functions the same way, proclaiming God’s great acts rather than abstract truths about him. Both songs finally locate the praying believer inside those events, crucified and raised with Christ.
Hannah functions as a transitional figure here, standing in for elect Israel as a whole rather than only herself. Her song’s careful structure turns on the meaning of ‘horn’ and ‘exalt,’ words that reach past her own circumstances. Paul’s confession in Romans 10:9 shows where that exaltation finally lands: in Christ’s own ascension.
Hannah’s story carries real weight for how women read Scripture, and her place in the larger history of salvation runs deeper than a single answered prayer. Her song anticipates Mary’s own centuries later, both women subordinating themselves to what God is doing. God and his kingdom come first here; everything else, including Hannah herself, comes second.