Women of the Gospel: Elizabeth and the Womb That Waited

To my sweet Jesus,

There was once a day when I dreamed of who You would be. From the way Your mother carried You during her pregnancy, I knew there was something extraordinary about Your story. I will never forget the feeling of my son leaping for joy within my womb when he first encountered You (Luke 1:41). That moment was a sacred gift, one I never thought I would have the opportunity to experience.

For years I prayed for a child. I clung to faith and trusted in the Lord’s perfect timing, yet as the years passed and my arms remained empty, both my trust in the Lord and my confidence in my body began to waver.

My husband, a priest from the line of Abijah, would gently remind me of God’s unfailing goodness, and I tried my best not to lose heart. His faith never wavered. He often reassured me that our time would come. Yet I could not quiet the ache that lingered within me, and I wondered if I would ever know the joy of carrying a child of my own, or if I was meant to carry the unbearable label of ‘barren’ for the rest of my life (Luke 1:7).

During the first few years of our marriage, it was easy to field questions about having children. Friends and family would ask, “Elizabeth, when are you going to have a baby?” or, “Isn’t it time you and Zechariah had a little one?” I would always lean on Zechariah’s priesthood as my excuse. “Hopefully soon! Zechariah has been very busy maintaining the sanctuary.” Or, “Zachariah is on the schedule to offer the sacrifices right now. It’s just not a good time.” I would say these things with a smile, but beneath it, my heart felt heavy knowing that motherhood was delayed but not for a lack of trying. 

Eventually, the questions stopped.  People knew of my anguish, yet no one knew how to comfort a woman without children and I began to feel the weight of solitude. 

One by one my friends began having children. Each pregnancy announcement, each birthing story, and each meal made for the new postpartum mother became harder to endure. I felt completely hollow. I got stuck in a trap of comparison. Why was that mother gifted with a second beautiful baby while my womb remained empty? What did I do wrong? 

Zechariah and I were blameless in the eyes of God, we observed all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blamelessly (Luke 1: 6). There was no explanation for our infertility. We could not find a tangible reason as to why I was unable to conceive a child. We lived with high moral integrity and were deeply committed to obeying God’s commandments, but I admit that we were not entirely sinless. Only Your mother, my cousin Mary, had an Immaculate Conception, and was born without original sin.  Was my sinful humanity the cause of my barrenness? Am I to blame for Zechariah’s lineage ending with us because I could not give him a priestly heir?

How I longed for a baby. My prayer for a child became a daylong plea. Before I rose out of bed in the morning, I would ask God to fill my womb. While washing clothes or doing dishes, I prayed that I would be given the opportunity to launder tiny garments or prepare meals for a little one. Before closing my eyes at the end of each day, I begged the Lord to heal my body as I slept, so that I might have the strength to conceive and carry a precious baby. Even after my childbearing years were behind me, I continued to pray.

Then, at an unlikely time, when we were well advanced in age, Zechariah went into the temple to burn incense. While a whole assembly of people was praying outside, the angel of the Lord appeared to him and said, “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, because your prayers have been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you shall name him John” (Luke 1:13).

Zechariah came home unable to speak (Luke 1:18–20), yet it was a clear sign that God was moving in our lives, and I knew our time had come. Shortly after, we conceived! I went into seclusion for five months (Luke 1:24). I was almost too afraid to be excited. Was this really happening? Had the Lord, in His goodness, filled my womb? Was I truly going to be a mother? My pregnancy was a miracle, and I could not contain my joy.

With each passing month, my belly swelled and my child grew. My joy increased! There was much rejoicing, and my joy overflowed at the visit from Your mother, Mary. The moment her voice reached my ears, my cherished baby, filled with the Holy Spirit, leaped for joy! How has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me? (Luke 1:43)

That was the first of many beautiful moments of ministry between you boys. My John became a prophet, preparing the people of Israel for Your public ministry. He was baptizing with water while You baptize with fire and the Holy Spirit (Luke 3:16).

Precious Jesus, Son of the Most High, You saved the world from darkness and gently healed the empty ache for motherhood I held in my heart. Emmanuel, You came near and filled my sorrow with rejoicing. Triune God and Giver of Life, You are able to do all things. Thank You for entrusting me with motherhood and for faithfully answering my prayers in Your tender mercy.

From the heart of a grateful mother, 

Elizabeth

Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. -Luke 1:42

Dear reader, this story, along with the other letters you will read this Lent, is a work of fiction. As I sat down to write about Elizabeth, I was prepared to write an enduring letter from the lens of a maternal family member, similar to how I would affirm one of my own nephews. But the more time I spent with her in scripture, the more I began to admire her perseverance and steadfast qualities. 

I was drawn to the part of her story where she waited and waited and waited to become a mother. Year after year, hope would rise and then quietly fall and yet she never gave up in prayer. It wasn’t until the most unlikely time, when she was “advanced in years”, that she experienced her first and only pregnancy. God had not ignored her!

From a human perspective, it was too late for her to have a baby. From God’s perspective, it was the perfect time. His capacity for miracles never dries up.

Infertility is such a tender topic, and one that is incredibly heavy to carry. Personally, I felt inadequate to touch on the topic, but through the vulnerable words given from women in my life who walked a similar road, the Holy Spirit inspired the letter above.

There is often so much happening beneath the surface of a couple’s heart who walk this journey. More than physical pain there is hope, disappointment, excitement, comparison, blame, fear, and shame. There are private tears no one sees, announcements that hurt, well-meaning comments that sting and questions that have no easy answers.

Elizabeth's story is a living testimony that delay in answered prayers is not rejection from God. 

Elizabeth was not forgotten. You, dear reader, are not forgotten. In whatever you are fervently praying for, whether that is a baby for you or for a loved one, or something else weighing on your heart, God sees you and He hears you. You are not alone!  As always, I am praying for you.

Until next time, your sister in Christ,

Abby

P.S. I’ve been playing this song on repeat all week. Join me in welcoming peace, joy, and love through these powerful lyrics found in the song Fear is Not My Future!