Don’t Move Until You See It
I am living from a place of rest. On the surface, that sounds wonderful—because rest is beautiful and replenishing. But for someone like me, it’s been incredibly challenging. I’ve spent years building and curating my dreams and vision for the future. Before I knew God, I was the creator of my own destiny. I believed it was all up to me. I poured my blood, sweat, and tears into making my dreams a reality.
Over the past three years, God has gradually stripped me of the identities I once clung to—the places I loved so dearly, and the role I once played as the “creator” of my future. He’s been working tirelessly to get my attention—removing distractions, taking away comforts, and even relocating me to quieter spaces. All of this, to reposition me in a place of rest.
Resting in God is not easy, especially since my natural instinct is to produce and create. I’ve been telling others that, during this season, I find myself in a room with windows and doors, all of them shut. And God is telling me, "Let me give it to you, don’t take it." In any other season, I would’ve broken down the drywall, cracked the glass, or thrown myself through the door to make a way for myself. I was raised to be strong, independent—waiting for help was never the lesson I was taught.
I've had to learn how to ask for help, and honestly, it’s not always easy. Asking for certain things still requires me to talk myself through it, assuring my mind that seeking help is exactly what I need to do.
As I rest, it can sometimes feel like I’m being lazy. I’ve struggled with toxic productivity and the belief that my value is determined by how much I accomplish. Did you catch that? My worth was once tied to what I got done. How insane is that? My worth has nothing to do with my progress or what I accomplish in my business or podcast.
I’m constantly at war with my “flesh” and my “spirit.” The Holy Spirit (or some may call it my gut or intuition) tells me to rest, to pause. But my flesh—the part of me that lives by lies—tells me I’ve done nothing if I didn’t edit four podcast episodes in five hours. Writing that out seems ridiculous, but that’s the lie my mind feeds me.
Thankfully, I have so many wonderful people walking alongside me in this season, encouraging me, helping me find peace and grace. A dear friend of mine shared a line from the movie Searching for Bobby Fischer, about a young chess prodigy who would go on to become one of the greatest players of all time. His mentor, in the movie, says: "Don't move until you see it." Meaning, don’t make a move on the board until you see the move clearly before you. This simple phrase has completely shifted my mindset during this season.
I am living and creating from a place of peace. But it leaves me wondering, how will I know when it’s time to act? How do I know when to pursue a relationship, or grab coffee with someone? The answer has been simple: Don’t move until you see it.
It’s not about sitting idle or waiting for something to happen. It’s about staying aware—throughout the day—of the divine “breadcrumbs” God is leaving me. These breadcrumbs are guiding me in a way I might have missed if I weren’t actively resting and looking for them. I know I wouldn’t have noticed them in past seasons, because I was too busy creating and building my own future.
I’m still in a season of not knowing what’s next or where I’m going. But I do know this: it’s no longer my job to be the sole creator. My job is to rest, to work from that place of rest, to see the divine breadcrumbs, and move once I see them. Then, I do it all over again.
If I can live in this place of rest, I know you can too. If you're wondering whether to move to a new apartment—don’t move until you see it. If you're unsure whether your time at a job is over—don’t move until you see it. If you’re waiting on a future partner and don’t know if they’re truly interested—don’t move until you see it. Look for the divine breadcrumbs. When you see them, you’ll know. Trust your gut, trust the Holy Spirit, and make your move.
Until then,
Britt