Natalie Williams: “what you model and invest in, even when life is hard, can build something in your children that lasts”

Natalie, can you tell us a bit about your background and how you came to faith?

I grew up in a very working-class family, in and out of poverty in Hastings, where I now live again. We lived on the 16th floor of a council block, couldn’t always afford central heating, and I had free school meals. My childhood was touched by domestic abuse, debt, disability, the death of a sibling and, eventually, my parents’ divorce when I was 16.

I wasn’t interested in God at all, but when I was 15 I started going to church because I liked a boy. The first Sunday I went, he shared his testimony, and it actually put me off him completely! But for some reason, I kept going back. There’s no earthly explanation for that — but eventually, I had an encounter with God and became a Christian.

My first ten years as a Christian were really up and down. I didn’t feel I fitted in, and I now realise that was because I was converted in a very middle-class church. There were unspoken rules I didn’t understand, and eventually I ran away from God for a while. When I came back to him in my late twenties, I told God I’d live anywhere except Hastings and go to any church except the one where I’d become a Christian — and he sent me straight back to both!

Ultimately, the family of God is big enough for all of us — whatever our story, background or circumstances

By then I’d become a journalist, working for newspapers like the Daily Mirror and the Reading Evening Post, and I’d even spent a year in Beijing with the China Daily newspaper group. Later I worked in PR and marketing before volunteering for Jubilee+.

At first, I was just editing weekly blogs for Martin Charlesworth, the founder. Eventually, I joined the staff, and in 2021 I became CEO. When Martin first asked me if I’d consider leading, I gave him a long list of reasons why I shouldn’t — all to do with my background. He listened for an hour and then asked, “Do you feel called to it?” and my answer was immediately yes. He said he actually wanted me to lead precisely because of my background. Jubilee+ helps churches engage with issues of poverty and class, so having the leadership pass from someone who’d gone to boarding school and Oxford or Cambridge to someone like me felt significant.

You talk a lot about class. What does “working class” mean to you?

When I say I grew up working class, I mean that when my parents were in work, they had low-income, traditionally blue-collar jobs. My mum was a bank cashier; my dad was a taxi driver or salesman, often in and out of work.

Back then — in the 1980s — class was easier to define by job or education. But now I think it’s more about values. I’ve bought a flat, been to university and lead a charity, but I’d still describe myself as working class because of my attitudes to money, possessions and community.

my mum is one of the most resilient people I know, and I think God has used her to build that same resilience in me

For example, hospitality in the community I grew up in wasn’t a formal thing — you just walked into each other’s homes. If dinner was being served, you sat down on the sofa and just ate. That’s very different from the middle-class “come over when you’re invited” approach.

I still see that difference in my mum’s outlook. If I tell her I’ve been offered a new opportunity — maybe a book or a speaking trip — her reaction is, “Why would you do that? You can already pay the bills.” For her, work is purely to pay the bills.

How do you think your upbringing shaped you as a person and as a Christian?

I think I grew up with a lot of fear and rejection, especially linked to my dad. I used to hear his key in the door and run to my room. But I didn’t realise we were poor because everyone around me was the same. It’s only looking back that I understand.

In my twenties I moved back in with my mum, sleeping on the floor for 18 months because she didn’t have a bed for me — or, as she tells it, she thought if she bought me a bed I’d never leave! At the time I was angry that she charged me rent even though I was in debt, but actually that’s when I learned to manage money well. I can see now that God used that period — and my mum — to teach me life skills.

From the difficult experiences with my dad, I think God formed deep sense of justice. A lot of what fuels me now comes from knowing what it feels like to experience things that are unjust — and wanting to change that for others

My mum worked incredibly hard, often with little support, and I didn’t appreciate that until I was older. She’s one of the most resilient people I know, and I think God has used her to build that same resilience in me.

From the difficult experiences with my dad, I think God formed deep sense of justice. A lot of what fuels me now comes from knowing what it feels like to experience things that are unjust — and wanting to change that for others.

For years I used to ask God, “Why did you put me in the family you did?” I looked at friends who grew up in secure Christian homes and thought, “If I’d had that, I’d be so much more mature in faith.” But over the last ten years, I’ve come to see God’s mercy in wave after wave, often more in the difficulties than the easy seasons.

It took me about ten years as a Christian before I could call God “Father.” For a long time, that word was too painful. But now I love how he fathers me. I’ve learned that even if you haven’t had a good earthly dad, you can still come to understand the glorious fathering of God.

You’ve spoken about resilience and emotional stability — what’s the difference?

I’d say resilience is keeping going but security is when your sense self and idea of God isn’t rocked by circumstances. I was resilient — I always got back up — but I wasn’t secure. Until my late thirties, any setback could send me into despair. I didn’t know how to self-regulate emotionally.

Through counselling I learned that emotional regulation is something usually formed in early childhood — and I hadn’t had that. So, I’d describe myself as spiritually and emotionally immature for a long time.

That’s what family looks like in God’s household — being included, known and loved

But God has healed a lot through the church family. I’ve had people who’ve parented me in faith — some older, some younger. A couple at Jubilee+ prayed for me every day for years. My pastor has fathered me spiritually, helping me understand God’s fathering. Even a younger friend has been like a maternal figure in certain seasons. That’s what I love about the family of God — those roles aren’t limited by age or biology.

What’s your vision of what church family should be like?

I think church should be the place where we realise, we’re bound together for eternity because we’re in Christ. The family of God isn’t a collection of individual households — it’s one household.

I’m single and live alone, but before COVID I went 46 days in a row being fed by other people in church. I love that! Sometimes it’s spontaneous — a friend will look across the desk and say, “Come for dinner tonight.”

I’ve had so much joy investing in families around me

At Christmas, I’m always spoilt for choice, I’m often with my mum and siblings but I also have many church families who invite me too. I’ve been on holiday with church friends, even joined anniversary dinners!

That’s what family looks like in God’s household — being included, known and loved. And that love isn’t just for the big moments. My friends know when I’ve got a hospital appointment or a tough workday. We share highs and lows together.

The Bible’s picture of love in 1 Corinthians 13 isn’t written for married couples; it’s written for the body of Christ. We’re supposed to learn to love one another — patiently, kindly, selflessly — as brothers and sisters. Marriage and children can sanctify us, but so can life in the wider family of God.

Read more:

Gavin Calver: “celebrate your children. Too often parents moan about how tiring kids are. But children are a gift from the Lord.”

Andrew Stewart-Darling: ‘Cut yourself some slack, be kind to yourself, and be at peace with imperfection’

Tim Morfin OBE: “Parenting was overwhelming and beautiful all at the same time”

Many parents feel too busy to live that kind of open, shared life. What would you say to them?

First, if that’s something you long for but don’t have, it’s OK to lament that before God. Tell him it’s painful. The psalmists did that.

Then, start talking honestly with others about it. Sometimes people just don’t realise what others are missing until it’s said out loud.

And for those who do have that kind of community, I’d say: don’t close it off. Invite others in — especially single people or those without nearby family. I’ve had so much joy investing in families around me. I pray daily for friends’ children — some since before they were born. I get sent the videos from school performances and birthday parties; I love it!

I used to wish my story was different, but now I see how God has used it for good

I could have let the sorrow of singleness harden my heart, but God’s kept it soft. Holding a friend’s newborn once, I remember thinking, “I’ll never know what this feels like as a mum.” That was painful, but instead of staying in that sadness, I decided to love that child and family deeply. It doesn’t remove the sorrow, but it brings joy alongside it.

I also think it’s important to invest in children beyond the church. I’m godparent to a little girl whose parents aren’t Christians — one’s an atheist, one’s agnostic. They chose her middle name, Faith, because when her mum didn’t have faith the pregnancy would go full term, I prayed every day that it would.

We may never know the eternal impact of those small acts of love, but one day we’ll see how deep and wide it’s gone — and I think we’ll be astonished.

Finally, what do you hope parents take away from your story?

That God can redeem anything. I used to wish my story was different, but now I see how God has used it for good. He’s used both the pain and the people in my life — believers and not — to shape me.

I’d love parents to know that what you model and invest in, even when life is hard, can build something in your children that lasts. My mum’s resilience and my fire for justice that came out of the experiences with my dad are still bearing fruit in me today.

And ultimately, the family of God is big enough for all of us — whatever our story, background or circumstances. That’s the beauty of church: we get to be family together.