When the Well Feels Empty: What I Learned in My Spiritual Dry Spell

No one talks about this part of the journey... but it really broke me.

There was a season—not all that long ago—when I couldn’t feel God.

Not in worship. Not in nature.
Not in my quiet time—where I usually connect deeply with Him.

I showed up, read the Bible, said the prayers. But it all felt like... sand. Dry. Lifeless. Mechanical.

This wasn’t a crisis of belief. I knew God was real.
But His nearness? I couldn’t sense it. And honestly, it made me question everything about my relationship with Him.  Sometimes, it still does. 

Do I really even know God anymore? 

The Ache of Absence

I didn’t walk away. But I was deeply weary.
I was still going through the motions—church, devotionals, meditations—but something was missing.

Some days, I wondered:

• Is it me?

• Did I disappoint God?

• Is this just what faith feels like now?

It was lonely. Painfully quiet. I didn’t know how to explain it to people without sounding ungrateful or unfaithful. And that’s what made it harder—this dry spell felt like a secret I had to keep.

What I Discovered in the Dryness

Eventually, I stopped striving to fix it. I stopped trying to "feel" something during my quiet time. Instead, I began to show up with honesty, silence, and a small but stubborn hope. I just remained consistent, knowing that just like in the past—I’d feel something again. I’d feel my way through it.

And slowly—gently—I realized something:

God wasn’t gone.
He was inviting me to see Him differently.

In the dry places, I discovered that spiritual depth isn’t measured by emotion.
It’s rooted in presence. In faithfulness. In trusting that God is still God even when I don’t feel Him.

Dry Spells Don’t Mean Dead Faith

If you’re there—if the well feels dry and your soul feels distant from God—please hear this:

You’re not broken.
You’re not failing.
You’re not forgotten.

Spiritual dry spells are part of the journey.
They strip away performance. They burn off emotional dependency. They make room for something deeper than feeling: dwelling.

Tending to Your Soul in the Dry Seasons

But how do we move through it—when prayer feels heavy, worship feels hollow, and we can’t seem to hear God’s voice the way we used to?

The truth is, we don’t always feel our way out of the dry season. We walk our way through it. Small, faithful steps that make space for God’s presence—even when the well still feels empty.

Here are a few gentle ways to begin tending your soul again, even in the dryness:

Seek God in the Small Moments

It’s about returning to Him in the ordinary — in the in-between moments of your day.

In the book, Liturgy of the Ordinary, Tish Harrison Warren writes:“A sign hangs on the wall in a New Monastic Christian community house: “Everyone wants a revolution. No one wants to do the dishes.” I was, and remain, a Christian who longs for revolution, for things to be made new and whole in beautiful and big ways. But what I am slowly seeing is that you can’t get to the revolution without learning to do the dishes. The kind of spiritual life and disciplines needed to sustain the Christian life are quiet, repetitive, and ordinary. I often want to skip the boring, daily stuff to get to the thrill of an edgy faith. But it’s in the dailiness of the Christian faith—the making the bed, the doing the dishes, the praying for our enemies, the reading the Bible, the quiet, the small—that God’s transformation takes root and grows.”

When you pour your morning coffee — whisper a prayer.
When you walk between meetings — breathe in His presence.
When you wash the dishes or drive home — talk to Him like a friend beside you.

Faith grows not in the spectacular, but in the steady.

Cultivate Relationships That Point You to Jesus

You need people who remind you who you are — and whose you are.
People who will pray with you, listen without judgment, and call you back to truth when you start to forget it.

Find those relationships. Nurture them.
And be that person for someone else.

Return to the Why

When faith feels distant, come back to your why.
Why did you start following Jesus in the first place? Why do you love Jesus?

It wasn’t because you had it all figured out —
it was because He met you, loved you, and called you His own.

Sometimes, returning to the root of your faith means remembering that this has always been about relationship — not religion.
About love — not performance.
About grace — not striving.

Practice Gratitude in the Middle of the Mess

It’s easy to lose sight of God when life feels chaotic — when the laundry is piled, the inbox is overflowing, or your heart feels weary.
But gratitude has a way of grounding us.

When you pause and name one thing — just one — that you’re thankful for, you’re reorienting your heart toward His presence.
It’s not about ignoring the hard things; it’s about remembering that even here, there is good.

Try this simple practice:
When you catch yourself spiraling into worry or frustration, whisper —
“Thank You, Lord, that You are here with me, even in this.”

Keep Showing Up When It’s Quiet

There will be days when worship feels dry, when prayer feels like talking to the ceiling, when Scripture doesn’t seem to speak.
Those are the moments when being rooted really matters.

Faithfulness in the quiet seasons builds strength for the stormy ones.
Keep showing up — even if it’s just a few words whispered before bed or one verse read in the morning.

God doesn’t measure the volume of your devotion, but the direction of your heart.
Every small moment of showing up — that’s a root growing deeper into His presence.

A Prayer for the Spiritually Dry

“Lord, I don’t feel You—but I trust You.
I don’t hear You—but I know You speak.
I don’t see You—but I believe You’re near.
Meet me in the dry place.
Water the parts of me I cannot reach on my own.”

Want to Go Deeper?

If this post resonated with you, I’d love to invite you into a space where you don’t have to pretend.

I write a weekly newsletter for women who are tired of forced faith and want to experience God in a more honest, grounded way. You can subscribe here.

And if you’re in a dry season, reply to the email or DM me on Instagram. I’d be honored to pray for you.