I must confess, I was a bit of a pandemic cliché. Two years ago, I looked for some at-home hobbies to while away the time during lockdown. Like a lot of people, I baked loaf after loaf of sourdough bread, read numerous novels, and bought about a dozen houseplants.
On one of my first weekly trips to the grocery store wearing a mask, I bought an ivy plant from a cart of foliage for sale. Two years later, the ivy plant has quadrupled its size, boasts of long trailing vines, and is clearly thriving. It’s rather shocking for me to keep a plant alive for so long. I don’t have a good track record with plants, indoors or out. But, for the past two years, I have dutifully watered my plants, turned them toward the light, and waited. Every so often, I discover tiny new shoots springing from my ivy plant. I’m always surprised to find them, not just because the plant is still (shockingly) alive but because I didn’t see the new little leaves when they first grew in. I didn’t notice when the vines trailed down another inch. I didn’t realize until recently that the plant has outgrown its pot. You can’t see a plant growing in real time, but grow it does. Slowly. Quietly. Unnoticeably.
Over the last few weeks, I’ve gone through a bit of a spiritual dry spell. You know what that’s like, I’m sure. Your Bible-reading feels meaningless. Your heart is cold and dry. Prayers seem to hit the ceiling, if they make their way out of your heart at all. You feel disconnected at church, or maybe you haven’t attended. Or, maybe things have been closed due to massive amounts of illness like they have been here. I struggled through the brain fog of the coronavirus recently myself, as did the rest of my family, but now that we’re well again, I find myself feeling a little listless. I’m doing all the things I know I must: reading, trying to pray, memorizing Scripture, staying involved in church as we can. I’ve learned from past experience that the only way through a spiritual dry spell is through a spiritual dry spell. They come and go, but they go a little more quickly when we feed ourselves with continual spiritual nourishment. When our hearts are dry, we must keep drinking from the Living Water. Disconnecting ourselves from the Vine will never aid us in producing the fruit of godliness. And yet, when we feel apathetic to all things spiritual, the very things that help us break through the apathy are the things we seem to want to avoid the most. You feel spiritual dry, so you don’t read your Bible, which lengthens the dry spell, which keeps you from wanting to read your Bible—and on it goes. It’s a vicious cycle that repeats itself if we avoid the cure.
The lack of emotion that comes with spiritual dryness might tell us that we need to take a break from our Bibles or church or prayer. That we might need something new or different or more exciting. And it’s true, we can make adaptations to perk up our hearts: listening to Scripture rather than reading it, praying with a friend or spouse rather than alone, journaling our prayers when we can’t focus. But disconnection won’t cure us from a spiritual dry spell. You’ll never grow if you sever yourself from the source of growth. God is the source, and He has given us means of grace to know and love Him. Though we may not feel especially full of love or affection for Him at times, pressing through spiritual dryness teaches us valuable perseverance. Spiritual disciplines still serve us when they seem rote or routine. While we might feel that going through the motions isn’t producing anything of lasting value in our hearts, we’re underestimating the power of the Holy Spirit living within us. We’re disbelieving that the Bible is God’s living and active Word. We’re ignoring the truth that God’s means of grace in our lives can pierce the coldest heart or drench the driest ground. God has given us what we need for life and godliness, but we must be receptive to what he has given.
I can’t see my houseplants growing each week. I water them and turn them towards the light. But, the growth happens little by little every day. Bit by bit. So slowly that I can’t see or measure it by a day or week. No, it’s more like months—even years. Our spiritual growth is a little like that. We can’t measure it day to day. And we can’t expect to grow deep roots of faithfulness if we never feed our faith, never water our souls with Scripture, never spend time with the Lord in prayer, never love him by loving his people. Our hearts need the means of grace for growth on a regular basis. Even, and especially, when we don’t feel like taking part in them. Who’s to say that your dry spell isn’t a tool with which God will shape your heart and teach you faithfulness? You may not see much growth in real time, but God is at work in your heart. He cultivates growth when we cannot see or feel it. Our job, like my ivy plant, is simply to receive the nourishment we need to grow.
Years from now, you may look back and be wonderfully astonished at the tiny new shoots of faithfulness the Lord has wrought from your perseverance. You were just plodding forward during the driest season of your life, but God was teaching you steadfastness. God never wastes a dry spell. One day your heart’s emotions will catch up—for who can long resist the beauty and delight of our Lord?
You were just plodding forward during the driest season of your life, but God was teaching you steadfastness. Share on XPhoto by Natali Merx on Unsplash
Glenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.