Why Am I So Spiritually Dry?

The leaf crunched under my foot with a satisfying crispy sound. The gray sky was heavy with clouds that looked ready to unload their contents on the dry, autumn day. I opened the Spotify app on my phone and selected a piano and cello playlist as an ambient backdrop to my “thinking walk.” Slipping my phone into my pocket, I asked the Lord the question that had been burning in my heart all weeklong: “Why am I so spiritually dry right now?”

I couldn’t think of any particular trigger. No big reason stood out to me that would explain why everything felt stale and stagnant inside. I’d opened my Bible out of habit that morning, combed the verses for truth and meaning. I made a few obligatory notes in my notebook. I prayed, woodenly. I stared out the window and wondered why nothing hit very deeply and hadn’t for weeks. Later, on my “thinking walk,” I posed the question to the Lord and pounded the leaf covered sidewalk as I tried to superimpose my answer over His. If there was a reason I could fix, then I could end the dry spell. I could do it.

But as I crunched my way through my neighborhood and watched the clouds for rain, I realized that dry seasons can be for our good. Sometimes spiritual dry spells come with a diagnosis and sometimes they don’t, but the only way through them is through them.

Is My Spiritual Dry Spell My Fault?
Maybe. But maybe not. For those of us who grew up in Christian circles that pushed good, moral behavior in lieu of keeping God’s favor, our first question to any trial or obstacle is usually tied to our actions. If something isn’t going well, surely it’s because we did something to make it so. The problem with this kind of assumption is that we’re rooting our understanding of both salvation and God in our ability to earn His favor, which we cannot do because He chose to freely give it to us in Christ. What’s true of salvation is true of sanctification—it’s by grace through faith in Jesus.

That said, we’re still guilty of questioning our relationship with God with every changing circumstance. We assume that God’s blessing always equals favorable circumstances and outcomes. But when you look at passages like James 5, you see that the blessing isn’t always removal from tough circumstances but rather steadfastness through it.[1] The promise isn’t the absence of valleys but rather God’s presence in them.[2]

The trials and challenges we experience aren’t always the result of our sin. But sometimes they are. We do feel the consequences of disobedience to God’s commands. If you are pursuing sin right now, you can know for sure that your spiritual dry spell is tethered to your disobedience. You can’t love God with half your heart while enjoying sin with the other half. God will not share His glory, and we’re never better off when we split loyalties. Half-love is full idolatry. Sin will always lead you away from God, never toward Him. Examine your heart, confess any sin. Know that repentance is the way forward through your spiritual dry spell.

But what if you aren’t purposefully pursuing sin? What if you are trying to live your Christian life with faithfulness? What if you’re still practicing your spiritual disciplines and seeking the Lord, and you still feel apathetic and dry?

Well, your spiritual dry spell may not be your fault. It may actually be God’s good purpose.

How can God deem it right for you to go through a dry spell? You might think He’d rather you be naturally bursting with joy and love for Him without long gaps of disaffection. But a spiritual dry spell can be a gift if it teaches you perseverance and dependance on Him.

Dry Spells are for Perseverance
I don’t know about you but whenever I encounter a new trial or a season of spiritual angst, my first thought is to wonder how long until I can get out of it. But, trials, suffering, and dry spells cultivate the fruit of perseverance that can never grow when life is easy and smooth. Perseverance by nature is learned in hard seasons. It grows in dry soil. James said to “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.”[3]

I love that James assumes the reader knows why trials should bring joy. “For you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.” It’s as though James is reminding the complainers that the trials that test our faith are working for our good. They’re teaching us to wait, to trust, to keep our hands to the plow of faithfulness no matter what. You don’t learn to plod on the mountain top. You learn to plod in the valley when every step feels hard.

When you feel like reading your Bible is work, that’s because it is work. If all the things you learn from God’s Word could be absorbed by osmosis, you’d skip the process of character development and sin-killing that comes in the daily obedience of opening the Bible, praying, reading, and learning. God is at work, even if you can’t feel it. He is at work even if it feels as though your heart is one big chunk of impenetrable ice. Don’t wait until you feel inspired to meet Him in His Word. Keep going no matter how you feel about it. God is teaching you perseverance, and He’s growing faithfulness in your heart. One day, the ice will melt. Your emotions will catch up to the truth when you warm your heart each day with the living and active Word of God.

Dry Spells are for Dependence
I’m the epitome of the Type-A person. I make to-do lists for every day of the week, I live by both a paper planner and my iCalendar, and I do not like to ask for help. I have been an “I can do it myself” girl since I was old enough to tie my shoes (without any help, thank you). But you know what I can’t do? Make myself holy. I can’t sanctify my own heart. I couldn’t save myself from my sins, and I can’t finish the process of growth that God has planned for me. No, I need Him to do it. I need Him to finish the good work He has purposed in my life. I need Him to call the shots and to drag me along because I will always mess up the plan and reduce sanctification to a to-do list  if given the chance.

Anytime I find myself slogging through a spiritual dry spell, I am forced sit with my open Bible and admit my helplessness to the Lord. I know how to do the spiritual disciplines. I know how to check the to-do list of faithfulness. I know how to dig into God’s Word for answers, how to promise to pray for people—and follow up on it. I know how to lead Bible study and discipleship groups. I know how to walk the Christian walk that keeps my heart in line. But, without the Lord’s help, without His Spirit working in me, without His leadership, I can do nothing to bring about growth.

Obedience is good and right, and I must obey by plodding when I don’t want to. But if I assume my obedience will manipulate God into making my heart what I want it to be, I’ve missed the point.

Sometimes, God brings about a spiritually dry season to open our eyes to our weaknesses. The mornings of wooden prayers and fruitless-feeling Bible reading reveal that our hearts will stay as dry and crunchy as the leaves on my neighborhood sidewalk unless God is our helper. We can do all the right things, but if we are the source of our strength, we’ll not find that joy and warmth we’re looking for.

If you’re feeling spiritually dry today, let it drive you to the Lord. Let it humble you if you’ve been proudly running your race without the Lord’s help. Let it drive you to the Lord when you don’t want to open your Bible. With the Lord’s love and care, the dry parched ground in your soul can become a garden where dependence and perseverance bloom.

What can God do with your dry spell? He can use it to make you grow.

You don’t learn to plod on the mountain top. You learn to plod in the valley when every step feels hard. Share on X

[1] James 5:11
[2] Psalm 23:4
[3] James 1:2-4
Photo by Seth Doyle on Unsplash