“Do not pray for easy lives,” writes Phillips Brooks, “pray to be stronger men.”
When our lives are immersed in faith, answered prayer, or fruitful mission, Brooks’ prayer is inspiring and seemingly attainable. But when those moments fade, and the vibrancy of faith wanes, how does a man soldier on?
“Do not pray for easy lives, pray to be stronger men.” ~ Phillips Brooks
What do you do when your spiritual life feels empty?
Confront the Sin
I once walked through a year marked by significant spiritual dryness. I was active in church and daily engaged with Scripture.
But I was spiritually stagnant, and I was responsible.
I had made a poor decision, and when a friend challenged my conduct, lied to protect myself. Over time, my dishonesty eroded the relationship. Every time I pursued God, the relational fractures of my sin were front and center in my mind. The Holy Spirit was compassionately but firmly convicting me so I would deal with my sin.
Sometimes, spiritual dryness is the result of sin. The Holy Spirit is eager to empower Christ-followers to live the abundant life Christ offers. Sadly, unconfessed sin can grieve and stifle His work (Ephesians 4:30).
In times of dryness, ask the Holy Spirit to reveal any behaviors, relationships, or perspectives in your life that are marred by sin, and invite Him to show you how to confess and set things right. What’s more, allow Him to reveal any ways you are complicit in broader systems of injustice towards the poor and oppressed. Oftentimes, God uses dryness to seize our attention and galvanize our hearts to take action to accomplish His redemptive purposes in our broken world.
Unconfessed sin can grieve and stifle His work (Ephesians 4:30).
After a year of stagnancy, I confessed my sin to my friend and received forgiveness. Owning my sin and making a change not only restored the relationship, but it also removed the obstruction in my heart to the work of the Spirit.
The next year of my life was marked by significant spiritual growth, including my baptism. If you’re experiencing spiritual dryness, invite the Holy Spirit to convict you of sin that may be hindering your growth.
Care for Your Soul
Years ago, I began my Master’s degree. I was driven, ambitious—and utterly spent. Swept up in the allure of bigger and better, I said “yes” to full-time education while simultaneously working full-time as a pastoral intern.
There was no time for rest, recreation, or pursuing meaningful relationships, and I was grieving the tragic death of a friend and the loss of significant community I had left to pursue school. I was burning the candle at both ends, yet couldn’t understand why time spent with God felt mundane and exhausting.
Maybe you can relate to being so obsessed with doing for God that you neglect to be with God. It’s all too easy to lead, serve, and produce from an empty tank, assuming you can relentlessly spend yourself on responsibilities without slowing down to refuel.
Living at such a pace will always cost you spiritually.
Confronting the spiritual dryness in my life meant adopting self-care in new ways. I blocked out Saturdays for Sabbath rest, scaled back my studies to create margin, and set clearer boundaries around ministry. I also began processing my grief with others. Living within my limits and prioritizing personal renewal were essential to journeying through that season.
Living at such a pace will always cost you spiritually.
Where in your life has the lie of productivity replaced purposeful, intimate time with God? In times of spiritual dryness, step back and evaluate your daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly rhythms to consider whether your patterns are leaving you energized or empty. Identify the people, places, and pursuits that are restorative for you, and build them into the rhythms of life.
Embrace the Wilderness
Often, spiritual dryness is not the result of besetting sin or poor self-care, but a normal dimension of spiritual growth.
Scripture is replete with examples of men who walked through wilderness seasons marked by suffering, confusion, despair, and loss—only to encounter God’s favor on the far side. Joseph endured the wilderness of betrayal, slavery, and imprisonment (Genesis 37-39). David navigated the loss of family, position, and threats to his life (1 Samuel 23:14). Elijah walked in literal wilderness, despairing of life itself (1 Kings 19:1-18). Each was profoundly formed in the midst of their “wilderness.”
“In times of drought,” a colleague once said to me, “a tree has two options: die, or drive its roots deeper to discover fresh water.”
Spiritual barrenness does the same for our souls, driving us deeper into the heart of God to discover new life.
But the wilderness is a hard and lonely place. Be honest with trusted people. Sit down with mature Christ-followers who have walked the road you’re treading. Seek out the stories and memoirs of men and women of faith who faced the wilderness and found God there. Don’t be afraid to slow down, pay attention to the seemingly mundane elements of life, and invite the Holy Spirit to show you where He is at work.
Lastly, consider developing the spiritual discipline of “listening prayer.” Set aside times of silence—five minutes on your commute, thirty minutes walking in the woods, three minutes in bed before your kids wake up—to simply pray, “Jesus, here I am. What do you want to teach me today?”
The demands of the wilderness are often the catalyst for a newfound attentiveness to the will, words, and work of God in our lives.
Don’t Quit
Tim Keller used a sailing illustration to discuss these seasons.
Often, early on in our faith, we experience the wind in our sails—a joy and enthusiasm that easily carries us forward.
Inevitably, the wind changes, and we have to make a choice: drift or row. Rowing is much harder than sailing with the wind and demands far more effort. But it allows us to continue to move towards our destination.
Conversely, drifting is easy; a simple protest in the face of God’s seeming absence in our lives. But drifting ships become battered by the elements, run aground, and sink.
In the face of spiritual dryness, choose to row—to press on, as Paul notes, “toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:14).
But don’t row alone. Welcome trusted peers into your journey. Invite God to transform you even when you don’t understand what he’s doing. As Phillips Brooks said:
“Do not pray for easy lives, pray to be stronger men.”
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