Learning to Swim: Faith, Rest, and Trusting God Before the Fruit Appears

How Ezekiel’s river, Gideon’s story, and a lesson on rest are reshaping how I understand faith and leadership.

Introduction

What do you do when you know God has called you somewhere, but the fruit hasn’t appeared yet?

You pray.
You step out in faith.
You try to stay obedient.

And still, the outcomes remain unseen.

This is the uncomfortable space between promise and manifestation.

Lately, I’ve found myself living there.

I sense a calling to sow into the next generation, particularly to invest in young people through schools. Yet many of the doors I hoped would open have been slower than expected.

And in that tension, God has been teaching me something unexpected:

The deeper the water of faith becomes, the less control we have.

The River That Gets Deeper

During a sermon, my Pastor shared an illustration from the Book of Ezekiel that stayed with me long after the service ended.

In Ezekiel 47, the prophet sees water flowing from the temple. As he walks through it, the water gradually deepens:

• Ankle-deep

• Knee-deep

• Waist-deep

• Waters deep enough to swim in

My beloved Pastor Lucinda Dooley explained that each level reflects a deeper level of surrender.

At ankle depth, you can still walk easily.
You’re in the water, but you’re still in control.

At knee depth, movement slows.
You feel resistance.

At waist depth, you begin to feel the current.

But when the water rises above you, you can no longer stand.

You must swim.

You must surrender to the current.

That image stayed with me because I realised that much of my life has been lived in ankle-deep faith.

Faith where I trusted God, but still worked hard to control outcomes.

Faith where I prayed, but also relied heavily on my own effort.

Lately, though, it feels like God has been inviting me into deeper water.

And deeper water requires surrender.

Gideon: Called Before the Evidence

This image of deeper surrender reminds me of a dear friend who prayed over me, drawing on the story of Gideon in the Book of Judges.

When we first meet Gideon, he is threshing wheat in a winepress, hiding from the Midianites.

He isn’t leading an army.
He isn’t winning battles.

He’s surviving quietly.

Yet the angel of the Lord appears and calls him a mighty warrior.

Not because of what Gideon had done.

But because of who God knew he would become.

Identity was spoken before the evidence appeared.

Then something surprising happens.

God reduces Gideon’s army from 32,000 men to just 300.

Why?

So that the victory would clearly belong to God.

The smaller the visible strength, the clearer the glory.

Reduction was not rejection.

It was preparation.

That truth has been confronting for me, especially as I’ve been trying to see doors open with schools to serve young people.

When opportunities feel limited or slow to open, it’s easy to interpret that as a lack of progress.

But Gideon’s story reminds me that sometimes God reduces our visible capacity so that when the breakthrough comes, it will clearly be His work.

The Hard Lesson of Rest

At the beginning of this year, I sensed God impress something on my heart:

The more you rest, the more successful your 2026 will be.

It sounded beautiful.

Until I tried to live it.

Because when you’ve worked hard your whole life, effort doesn’t just feel productive, it feels like identity.

Work has been how I solve problems.

How I move things forward.

How I create results.

So when God invites me to rest, it doesn’t always feel peaceful.

Sometimes it feels uncomfortable.

Because rest removes the illusion of control.

And that is exactly what deeper water does.

When Faith Meets Real Life

Another layer that has stretched me is that the people closest to us often still relate to who we used to be.

People who have known the version of me who pushes hard, solves problems, and drives outcomes.

So when I start talking about resting more and trusting God with results, it can feel unfamiliar, to both of us.

And honestly, sometimes I don’t fully understand it myself yet.

That tension can be draining.

Because in those moments, I’m managing my own expectations, emotions, and faith posture at the same time.

And I’ve realised something important.

Part of surrender is also surrendering people to God.

I can invite others into the journey.

But I cannot force their understanding of it.

It happens with time and God.

Practicing Faith in Small Ways

So, I decided to move from reflection to practice.

Instead of just thinking about surrender, I tried to live it in simple ways.

One of the practices was what I call active faith.

Whenever anxiety surfaced, I would quietly remind myself:

I will not worry.
I don’t know what will happen.
But I know who holds the future.

Not perfectly.

Just intentionally.

Another change I experimented with was working with the body’s natural ultradian rhythm, which suggests that our brains work best in focused cycles followed by rest.

Instead of pushing through the entire day, I tried structuring my work around a few focused blocks.

For example, a typical day might look something like this:

• 10:00 – 11:30 focused work

• 20-minute praise break

• 12:00 – 1:00 focused work

• Lunch break

• 2:00 – 4:00 focused work

• Sometimes another 5:00 – 6:30 block if needed

It’s not perfect. Some days shift depending on meetings or life.

But the goal isn’t perfection, it’s creating space to work deeply, then pause intentionally.

And those pauses aren’t just rest.

They become moments to pray, praise, meditate and remind myself that the outcomes don’t depend solely on me.

In a small but meaningful way, those breaks become acts of trust.

What I’m Learning

After practicing this for a week, I realised something surprising.

Rest did not reduce my effectiveness.

If anything, it sharpened my focus.

More importantly, it revealed how much of my drive was actually powered by fear.

Fear of falling behind.
Fear that things wouldn’t happen if I didn’t push harder.
Fear that outcomes depended entirely on me.

And each time I paused, rested, or released control, I was practicing something deeper than productivity.

I was practicing trust.

The River That Gives Life

In Ezekiel’s vision, the deeper the river flows, the more life appears.

Trees grow along the banks.
Fruit becomes abundant.
The water brings healing wherever it flows.

The life does not come from human effort.

It comes from the river.

Maybe leadership is not about standing safely in shallow water where we can control everything ourselves.

Maybe leadership is learning to swim in deeper water where the current belongs to God.

Closing Reflection

I’m still learning what it means to trust deeply.

Some days I feel confident.
Other days I still worry.

And that simply reminds me that I’m human.

But faith is not proven by the absence of struggle.

Faith grows every time we choose trust again.

Each moment of surrender, each pause, each decision to rest, each release of control, is another step deeper into the river.

And Ezekiel’s vision reminds us of something beautiful:

Where God’s river flows, life follows.

Not because we force growth.

But because the source itself carries life.

Maybe the fruit we long to see will appear not when we push harder…

…but when we trust enough to let the river carry us.

🤍 Vera

Leadership & Communication Coach

Founder of The Honesty Lab & VeraChin.com