I’ve just realised that I’m scared. For a few weeks, probably months if I’m honest, I’ve held on to this unsettled feeling, I’ve dreaded dates in the diary and what the future might hold and unfortunately for Dave, I’ve been a bit fragile. Basically, I can go from happy to crying very quickly, which I think still scares and confuses him even though we’ve been married for 10 years so you think he’d be used to it by now.
With the way my life is right now, I think a lot of this fear is justified. It feels like everything is unknown. We’re running a coffee shop that’s also a charity, a base for mission into our community and the home to a new church (which is frightening and exciting in equal measures as well as bloody hard work). I have not been trained in any of this, I feel totally out of my depth and I’m scared. Dave’s salary from the church of England stopped two months ago and we’re now living on the gifts of our brother’s and sisters in faith, we have no pension and after June 2019, no house. I also feel passionate about my calling to the ministry of Saltwater and Honey, but I don’t know what that looks like or whether I have anything left to say.
I don’t want this to turn into a therapy session so I’m going to stop there. This morning I sat with Betsy on my lap and tried to work out where the fear came from – what was I so afraid of? Moving the obvious things aside, like having nowhere to live and no security for the future, I thought about all the projects I’m involved in and why they scare me and this is what happened.
Everything I’m involved in is new and different and there’s no guarantee any of this is going to work out.
I’m scared of what people think – of what I’m doing wrong or badly
I’m scared of failing
I’m scared of what people will think if I fail.
I’m scared that if this fails, there’s nothing left.
I’m scared that my life will have no meaning.
When I reached this final conclusion, I stayed in it for a while to work out where it came from and I realised that right at the source of my fear and striving is my belief that I need to work harder than others to create a life of meaning because I’m not a mother.
Somewhere deep down I believe that whatever I do needs to be really spectacular if it’s going to even come close to the matching the meaning attached to raising a child.
It sounds silly when I say it out loud, and I know from my friends who have kids that the question of purpose and meaning is just as dominant in their lives as mine. But I still hear all the comments and casual lines about how nothing is more important than being a parent, I still see the all the social media posts declaring parenthood is the most meaningful contribution you can give to this world. Somewhere deep down I believe that whatever I do needs to be really spectacular if it’s going to even come close to the matching the meaning attached to raising a child.
It’s back to identity again, it always is and as much I try to avoid cliches, I know my only way out is to go back to who God says I am. I know it all comes back to this and I know I’ll be relearning and battling with this concept for the rest of my life, but also I know it’s the only lasting way out of the fearful mess I find myself in. Love and fear cannot co-exist and, in the words of Rachel Gardner in her book The Girl De-Construction Project;
‘We either belong to our fear, or we belong to the God who loves us.’
I know which one I want and long to belong to.
‘God is love. When we take up permanent residence in a life of love, we live in God and God lives in us. This way, love has the run of the house, becomes at home and mature in us, so that we’re free of worry on Judgement Day – our standing in the world is identical with Christ’s. There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life- fear of death, fear of judgement-is one not yet fully formed in love.’ 1 John 4:16-17, The Message
God is love. I am loved. You are loved.
This June, when Sheila and I were praying about the Saltwater and Honey retreat day, the question ‘Who do you say I am?’ kept coming into our minds. Identity, purpose and worthiness are some of the deepest struggles facing those experiencing infertility, miscarriage and childlessness, but we can’t explore who we are in this space until we work out who God is first. You see, the question works both ways.
Whether found in the crowd, around the table, at the roadside or by a river, whether healed, demon possessed, sick, well, rich, poor, educated or outcast, every encounter with Jesus demanded a response to this question – who do you say I am? And it was the response to this question that changed lives – for better or worse.
it’s always the most broken who saw Jesus for who He truly was
What’s amazing is that it’s always the most broken who saw Jesus for who He truly was. It’s the outsider who called Jesus Lord, the sick who asked for forgiveness, the grieving who sought his comfort, those considered the most sinful by society who worshipped him as Lord. They were the ones who worked out Jesus’ true identity way before the disciples and it was this realisation that brought transformation, hope and healing into their lives.
Rather than start another day in fear, I spent time this morning reflecting on who God is in this moment and how much He loves me. I thought about the deep value Jesus places on the work I do for God’s Kingdom and the reward in heaven for those who have sacrificed homes and families for His sake. I imagined Jesus walking towards me on water as I sat in a boat, he held out his hand and invited me to join him in this life of love and adventure, rather than cling to the sides of my current reality with fear, he wanted me to join him on the waves because right now, as a pioneer, I know that’s where I’m meant to be.
Who do you believe Jesus is right now, in this moment?
So, wherever you are today, however you feel; whether you’ve started your day in fear or peace, grief or joy, lost or purposeful – pause for a moment, imagine Jesus is standing right in front of you asking ‘Who do you say I am?’ What would you say to him? Who do you believe Jesus is right now, in this moment? When you’ve answered his question, why don’t you ask him the same thing? Ask Jesus, ‘who do you say I am?’
Alternatively, you could book on to the Saltwater and Honey retreat day and we’ll try to work it out together xxx
I can so relate to this post, not only as a couple dealing with the infertility rollercoaster for 7 years, but also from a pioneer ministry point (husband just started on the training). I have also felt like the question of “who do you say I am” is so central to everything. Until we can see Him as he really his and not through out messed up life lenses, we can never be free and live the life He intended – no matter what that might look like. Thanks for posting!
Hi Jen, thanks so much for your comment and it’s always great to meet a fellow pioneer! I think we’re on this constant cycle of relearning what it is to fully trust in God, and like you say it’s only until we can see God as He truly is that we’ll be free to live the live He intended for us. Thanks so much sharing. Lots of love Lizzie xx
Thank you for these words. One of the things I’ve found myself pondering over the last while is that in the midst of my miscarriage/infertility journey, it’s not just the pain of childlessness, but worries about failure, identity, finding meaning, and also the impact on relationships as people around you have children and of course the those saying tactless things. I wonder how I would have coped without my faith. It feels like trusting in God has kept me going. That reminder that God loves us is so important.
The coffee shop stuff sounds really exciting but, yes, scary! I’ll be praying for you.
Hi Sarah, thanks so much for your comment. I think you’re so right about how much the experience of miscarriage and infertility can impact our relationships and that it really is all rooted into identity. Thanks so much for sharing, and yes, without God I think this journey would be so much harder. Thanks also for your prayers, it is scary, there are really great bits about it and it can be exciting, but also scary! Lots of love Lizzie xx
As a vowed celibate who has chosen not to have children, I partly understand where you’re coming from, Lizzie. Society has so much emphasis on us producing the next generation of people that it is really blooming hard to be the “odd one out”, the one who has no children (for whatever reason), or even the one who has chosen to only have one child.
You don’t have to work harder or pray harder or do more to be of worth. God has made each one of us worthy, we just need to believe it and live in God’s love. It’s so much easier said than done, however! There is also one thing that you can do that I cannot do, Lizzie. You can be alongside any woman who has experienced the loss of her child in the way that I am not able to be, because it’s something that I will never experience.
I’m still praying for you and Dave, and for all of the Saltwater & Honey community.
Hi Lizzie,
This is such an encouraging post. Thanks so much for what you have shared. I have been taking a lot of encouragement from your blog since last year, when my husband and I lost our baby in my first trimester. I’ve taken such comfort from reading your kind words and the service liturgy examples you have posted on your website. I can definitely understand what you mean about the struggles with identity due to childlessness. At the moment I am battling a chronic illness to try and be in a better state of health so my husband and I can think about having a family. It can be really tough at times to stick to Christ’s definition of who I am when the world seems to be screaming a load of nonsense in my ear!
But I think you’re amazing and brave and so Christ-like with what you share on this blog. It has truly been a blessing to me.
Hoping all goes well with the pioneering projects and looking forward to maybe even visiting one day and meeting you in person sometime!
With lots of love and appreciation,
Linda xx
Hi Linda, thanks so much for your comment and your encouragement. I’m so sorry to hear about your miscarriage and now with the struggle of chronic illness and the restrictions that must come with it must be so frustrating. The struggle to believe in Jesus’ words for us is real, especially when you feel so helpless. I’m so glad the blog has helped you, please know you’re not alone in this journey and I have no doubt that all the different things you’re feeling are completely normal for the struggle and loss you’re facing and you won’t be the only person feeling this way. Of course you are always welcome to come visit us in Liverpool!! We’re also planning more Saltwater and Honey events so maybe you’ll be able to come along when you’re feeling better. Sending you lots of love and virtual hug, may God strengthen you and reveal more of His love for you in this time of waiting. Xxxxxx
Thanks so much for sharing your story x
Lizzie, you still have things to say, to enlighten, to challenge and to persuade others like me. Keep going with it all, despite it all. If not read 1 John in Message before — thanks so much for including it.
Hi Jonathan thanks so much for your comment and your encouragement. Sending you and Martha lots of love xx
Thank you so much give for article. I was also happy to be excited about my call to the Ministry of saltwater and honey.
Thank you so much for this article which is so encouraging – to know others struggle with those same thoughts of inferiority for not being a parent is healing in itself! Thanks also for your book and everything you and your lovely hubby and your friends are doing. You are amazing. Thanks for being so vulnerable and sharing your story. I am childless by circumstance – illness mainly but also other things – life is complicated as you know! I have so struggled with inferiority, and love to think how Jesus spent time with the ones who didnt fit in, and made family about so much more than parents and their kids. Reading your book and your blogs is so helpful.
Hi Amanda
Thanks so much for your comment and for sharing some of your story. I think as soon as we start to open up about how we’re feeling and like you say those feelings of inferiority, then it does help us feel less alone. I think it can be hard to articulate sometimes but you’re definitely not alone in this struggle, but that’s not how God sees you. So glad you’ve found the book and blogs helpful, thank you so much for reading them. Sending you lots of love xxx