A new book opens with a childless woman weeping at Shiloh, praying so hard the priest thinks she is drunk. I was pouring out my soul to the LORD, Hannah tells him, and her honest anguish becomes the hinge of Israel's history.

God remembers Hannah. He is still the kind of God people can pour themselves out to. Do exactly that as you begin 1 Samuel today.

Hannah's prayer was not composed; it was poured, tears, vows, moving lips, misread by clergy and fully read by God. And notice when her face changed: before the pregnancy, at the altar, the moment her burden transferred owners. Pouring out the soul does its first work in the one who pours.

Thirty-eight years at Bethesda had taught a man to explain his situation instead of hoping in it, so Jesus asked the question that reopens closed cases: do you want to get well? Bring Him the ache you have stopped praying about, Hannah-style, unfiltered. The God who remembered her, and who remembered His promise for four centuries in Egypt, has not misplaced your file.