Written by: Emily White
Have you ever felt like everyone around you was celebrating something, but you couldn’t make yourself genuinely join them no matter how hard you tried?
After my first year of college, I had an opportunity to work as the director of programs at an overnight summer camp in Washington, far from my home. I had worked at my local day camp for years and was assured that my transition to this camp would be smooth; I was even told that my filling the position was an answer to prayer. I knew that my new job would not be easy, but I was excited for the challenge. However, over the course of the summer, I became burnt out. I felt depleted of every ounce of my energy. I knew it was going to be hard — I had prepared myself for that — but was it supposed to be this hard?
I wearily crawled to the end of the summer season and then was immediately thrown into my second year of college with no time to process the stress I had been through. My friends from camp would wax eloquent about their fantastic summers, but I could not relate. Yes, I had some good experiences, but they were not enough to counteract the strain I endured. I hated reliving the negative feelings in conversations with friends, but I felt like I had to keep quiet about it. Surely something was wrong with me because I had such a terrible summer while everyone else had the time of their lives.
For over a year, I struggled with this, not receiving much clarity about my purpose at camp. Then, at my home church during fall break this year, my Sabbath School class discussed the first 20 verses of I Samuel 1 — the story of Hannah and how she came to have her son Samuel. The story was familiar enough: Hannah and Peninnah were both married to Elkanah. Peninnah had children, but Hannah was barren; however, Elkanah still loved Hannah the most. Every year the family would travel to celebrate Passover, and Elkanah would give Hannah a double portion of the meat. Peninnah, however, was jealous and provoked Hannah for her barrenness, which caused Hannah to become distressed and stop eating. This happened every year, as mentioned in verse 7.
After reviewing the story, my pastor stopped and simply said, “I don’t think Hannah looked forward to Passover. It was a spiritually high event, and she probably dreaded the thought of going every year.”
In that moment, I felt seen. Beforehand, I did not realize the similarity of our situations. I felt guilty that I was not able to celebrate the summer the way my friends did. But here was a woman who felt the same thing. Like me, Hannah probably felt guilty that she was not able to celebrate the Passover with as much enthusiasm as everyone else. Hannah expressed her grief through a bitterly honest prayer, which helped me to recognize that I no longer had to hide my emotions or hide from them, either. Even though I still do not know the full impact that I made that summer, just knowing that I wasn’t alone in my feelings was enough to propel me into a stage of healing.
Perhaps you too feel guilty that you cannot enjoy times of celebration as much as you wish. Maybe you’ve had a similar experience with a Christian event or program, or maybe the coming Christmas season feels more like a time of grief than one of rejoicing. Yet, just as Hannah took her pleas to the Lord, you too can let Him know about the burdens you carry that often take the place of celebrations. Maybe you will receive clarity instantly; maybe it will take more time — it took Hannah at least nine months after her prayer at the temple to have her beloved son. Be patient in the waiting and cling close to the Lord. And as He did with Hannah, may He one day turn your sorrows into joy. (John 16:20b)
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