Night before last, I dreamed I was in the middle of the ocean.
Not calm water.
Choppy. Restless. Rising.
A storm was building all around me, and I wasn't standing on anything —
I was floating. My feet weren't touching the bottom.
There was nothing beneath me to hold me up.
Just the water.
Just the storm.
Just me… suspended in the middle of it.
And then I heard Him.
Not loud. Not forceful.
Clear.
"Take a moment. Breathe."
So I did.
And then came the instruction that stopped me:
"Now take a deep breath… go under the water… and breathe."
I remember asking, "Will I drown?"
"No. You will not drown.— what He said
Because I am the Breath of Life…
and I am the Living Water.
Your faith is anchored in Me. You are safe."
There was a pause. That moment where you decide if you trust what you've just heard.
And I did.
I took a deep breath…
held it…
and went under.
For a second, everything went quiet.
And then — as I opened my mouth to breathe —
I felt the water rush in.
And I woke up.
I've been sitting with that ever since.
Because if I'm honest, that's exactly what faith can feel like sometimes. Like being placed in something deeper than you're comfortable with. With no ground beneath your feet. With waves rising higher than you expected. And then being asked to trust… in a way that doesn't make sense.
To breathe… where breathing feels impossible.
But maybe that's the point. Maybe faith isn't always about staying above the water. Maybe sometimes it's about discovering that even in the places we fear most — He is still sustaining us.
Even there.
Even when it feels overwhelming.
Even when we don't understand.
"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you…"
I didn't wake up with fear. I woke up with awareness. That sometimes the invitation isn't to escape the storm — but to trust Him in a deeper way within it.
Where in your life does it feel like you're being asked to trust beyond your comfort? I'd love to sit with that question alongside you. Leave a prayer, a praise, or just let me know you were here. You are not floating alone.
With love and open hands,
Lisa
