When You Can’t Hear God: Finding Him in the Dry Seasons
Read time: 14 minutes
There’s a particular kind of tired that comes from opening your Bible and feeling nothing. You know the verses. You may have underlined half the page in another season—a season when the words seemed to lift right off the paper and meet you in the exact ache you were carrying that day. But now you read the same page, and it feels like nothing more than ink. You pray, but your words seem to go no farther than the ceiling. Before long, questions begin creeping in. Am I doing something wrong? Has my faith grown weak? Why does God seem so quiet? Maybe you’ve felt this too. If that is where you are right now, I want to remind you of something before we go any further: feeling spiritually dry does not automatically mean you have failed, and God’s silence is not proof that He has abandoned you.
I know what it feels like to sit in that silence.
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.” — Proverbs 3:5–6 (NIV)
During my first marriage, I prayed the way you pray when you are desperate. Every day—sometimes every hour—I asked God to heal what was broken. I believed that if I prayed faithfully enough and held on long enough, He would move in the way I was asking Him to. But the change I prayed for never came. That did not mean God was not listening. It meant I was facing a painful truth: I could not pray another person into making choices he was unwilling to make. I could ask God to work in his heart, but I could not control his response. Eventually, my prayers began to change. Instead of continuing to ask only for the outcome I desperately wanted, I began asking God to help me see the situation as it truly was—not merely as I hoped it would become. That was a difficult prayer because it required me to release the future I had imagined and trust God with a reality I did not want.
That season held its own kind of spiritual dryness. It was not only the quiet of struggling to hear God. It was the ache of praying faithfully while watching the answer I longed for never arrive. At first, I filled the silence with guilt. I wondered whether a stronger faith would have produced a different outcome. Maybe if I prayed longer, studied more Scripture, journaled more consistently, or trusted God more completely, something would finally change. So I tried harder. I prayed longer prayers. I read more. I journaled more. I pleaded, worked, and quietly blamed myself. Looking back, I can see that I was not only reaching for an answer. I was also reaching for a feeling. I thought that if I could feel God’s nearness again, perhaps everything would make sense.
I think this is where many of us become discouraged. Without realizing it, we begin measuring God’s nearness by our emotions. When our hearts feel full and Scripture seems alive, we assume He is close. When we feel numb, distracted, or disappointed, we wonder whether He has stepped away. But our emotions, though real and worthy of honest attention, are not always reliable measures of God’s presence or faithfulness.
What a Dry Season Can Be
Spiritual dryness does not look exactly the same for every person, and it does not always have the same cause. Sometimes we feel distant from God because we are grieving, exhausted, overwhelmed, disappointed, or carrying more than we have admitted. Physical and emotional strain can affect our concentration and our ability to feel deeply. At other times, neglected spiritual practices or unconfessed sin may be part of what God lovingly brings to our attention. We should remain open to the Holy Spirit’s conviction, but we should not assume that every quiet season is God’s punishment or evidence that we have wandered beyond His reach. Sometimes God uses these seasons to teach us what it means to walk by faith when our feelings offer little reassurance. We begin learning to rest in who He has revealed Himself to be instead of relying entirely on what we can sense in a particular moment.
Scripture does not hide experiences of confusion, grief, and waiting. It places them honestly on the page. David cried, “How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?” (Psalm 13:1). Those are not the words of someone performing faith for an audience. They are the words of a man who felt forgotten and still chose to bring that feeling to God. We often hurry toward the end of the psalm, where David declares his trust in God’s unfailing love. We are drawn to the resolution, but God also preserved the questions. He did not remove David’s confusion or wait until David felt better before allowing his prayer to become part of Scripture.
That matters to me. It reminds me that honest lament is not the opposite of faith. David’s questions did not end his relationship with God; he expressed them within that relationship. Even when God seemed distant, David continued turning toward Him. When dryness makes us believe something is fundamentally wrong with us, we may spend the entire season trying to manufacture the “right” feelings. But when we remember that faithful people throughout Scripture experienced grief, silence, and uncertainty, we can bring our whole hearts to God without pretending.
When We Begin Chasing a Feeling
One of the temptations of a dry season is trying to recreate a former emotional experience with God. We switch Bible studies, search for another devotional, build a new worship playlist, or wonder whether we are reading the wrong translation. We hope the next conference, podcast, book, or routine will make us feel what we once felt. None of those resources is necessarily wrong. God can use wise teachers, helpful studies, worship music, and new habits to encourage us. But it is worth asking ourselves gently and honestly: Am I seeking to know God, or am I trying to recover a particular feeling? Emotional experiences can be beautiful gifts, but they were never meant to become the foundation of our relationship with God. That foundation is Christ. We learn to know God through His Word, come to Him through prayer, obey what He teaches, remain connected to His people, and trust His character through changing circumstances.
Paul wrote, “For we live by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7). In context, Paul was speaking about the believer’s hope beyond this present life. Yet his words also remind us that faith rests in realities we cannot always see. We continue trusting the God who has made Himself known, even when our present experience feels uncertain. Faith is not less real when it feels ordinary. Sometimes it is in these quiet, unremarkable days that our roots begin reaching deeper.
The Thoughts That Take Root in the Silence
One of the hardest parts of a dry season is not simply the silence. It is what we begin telling ourselves because of it. We may assume God has abandoned us because we cannot sense His presence. Yet Jesus’ promise to remain with His people does not rise and fall with our emotions. In giving His disciples the Great Commission, He assured them, “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matthew 28:20). His presence was their confidence as they followed Him, and His people still live beneath that promise today. We may also assume we must be doing something wrong. It is right to ask God to search our hearts and reveal any sin we need to confess. But if the Holy Spirit brings conviction, He does so with truth and specificity, leading us toward repentance—not through a vague cloud of shame that tells us we are simply a disappointment to God.
At other times, we may conclude that mature Christians do not struggle this way. But Scripture gives us no such picture. David lamented. Elijah became weary and afraid. Job brought agonizing questions before God. Faith does not require us to deny the struggle. Faith keeps turning toward God within it. Perhaps the most exhausting thought is that we must try harder to earn back the closeness we once felt. I believed this for a long time. But prayer, Scripture reading, worship, and obedience are not ways of bargaining with God. They are means through which we attend to Him, learn His character, and respond to the grace He has already given us in Christ. Our spiritual practices matter, but they do not purchase God’s love. We do not have to convince Him to be gracious.
And when we fear that nothing is happening, we should remember how much of God’s work begins beyond our sight. Roots grow beneath the soil before fruit becomes visible above it. We may not be able to name what God is doing in a particular season, and we should be careful not to pretend we know. But we can trust that no season surrendered to Him is beyond His ability to redeem and use. Jesus answered temptation with the truth of God’s Word (Matthew 4:1–11). Paul likewise instructed believers to “take every thought captive to obey Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:5). When fear, shame, or discouragement begins interpreting our circumstances for us, we can pause and ask, What has God actually said? What is true of His character, even here?
That does not mean our feelings are unimportant. It means they do not have to carry the burden of deciding what is ultimately true.
What Has Helped Me in Dry Seasons
I will not offer you a formula for making the fog lift. I do not know one. But I have learned a few simple practices that help me remain turned toward God when I cannot feel His nearness. When I cannot find words to pray, I read a psalm aloud and let its words guide my own. I am not trying to sound spiritual. I am borrowing the language of someone who has already brought fear, disappointment, grief, hope, and praise before God. Sometimes my prayer is only this: “Father, I do not feel close to You today, but I want to know You. Help me trust You even here.” That is still prayer. God does not require polished words before we can come to Him. We come because Christ has made the way, and we come honestly.
One of the most helpful changes I made was asking a different question when I opened my Bible. Instead of beginning with, What is this passage going to make me feel today? I began asking, What does this passage show me about who God is? Rather than rushing through several chapters, I may slow down and read one paragraph more than once. I look for what it reveals about God’s character. Is He faithful, patient, compassionate, just, merciful, or holy? What does the passage show me about people? Is there a command to obey, a promise to understand in its context, a warning to heed, or an example to consider? I also ask what the passage meant to its original audience and how it fits within the larger story of Scripture that leads us to Christ. These questions keep me attentive to the text instead of waiting for a sudden emotional experience.
You may not close your Bible feeling inspired every time. But you have still spent time attending to what God has revealed about Himself. That time is not wasted. Over months and years, those truths become part of the way we understand God, respond to difficulty, and recognize what is true when our emotions are uncertain. Paul encouraged Timothy to present himself to God as one who correctly handled the word of truth (2 Timothy 2:15). Bible study is not merely a box to check or a way to produce a daily feeling. We study Scripture because we want to know God truthfully and learn to live in response to Him. I have also learned that I can tell God exactly where I am. I can tell Him I am disappointed, tired, confused, or frustrated. The Psalms have taught me that honesty and reverence can exist together. I do not have to clean up my emotions before bringing them to the One who already knows my heart.
What Tomorrow Morning Can Look Like
If you have been wondering what to do when you open your Bible tomorrow, you do not need to create an elaborate plan. Make your coffee. Choose one psalm or a short passage. Read it slowly, and then read it again. Write down one truth the passage teaches you about God. Sit with that truth for a moment. Ask how your choices, thoughts, or responses might change if you lived as though it were true—because it is. Then pray one honest sentence, even if it is simply, “Father, I do not feel close to You today, but I want to know You.” When you close your Bible, resist the urge to evaluate the time by the strength of your emotions. You came honestly, opened God’s Word, and turned your attention toward Him. Some mornings you may leave encouraged. On others, you may feel much the same as when you began. Neither experience determines God’s character or the truth of His Word.
Spiritual growth is often quieter than we expect. It takes shape in ordinary mornings, repeated choices, honest prayers, small acts of obedience, and truths remembered when life becomes difficult. We may not recognize the growth while it is happening. Roots usually deepen in hidden places.
If You Are in a Dry Season Right Now
If God feels silent today, do not rush to condemn yourself. Ask Him to search your heart, remain open to His correction, and receive it when He gives it. But do not mistake exhaustion, grief, disappointment, or a lack of emotion for proof that you no longer belong to Him. Sometimes the answer will not be the one you prayed for. Sometimes faithfulness means allowing God to help you face what is true instead of continuing to bargain for the outcome you wanted. I have learned how painful that surrender can be. But I have also learned that trust can grow there—not because the loss becomes small or the questions disappear, but because God remains worthy even when we do not understand what He has allowed.
So return to His Word, not to force a feeling, but to know Him. Bring Him the prayer you actually have, not the one you think a faithful woman should say. Let trusted believers walk beside you. And when all you can manage is one small act of turning toward God, do not dismiss it. You may not be able to see what is growing yet. That does not mean your quiet faithfulness is meaningless. As Paul reminded the Galatian believers while encouraging them to persevere in doing good, “Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9).
The God you are seeking is not made faithful by your ability to feel Him. He is faithful because faithfulness is part of who He is.
I’d Love to Hear From You
Have you ever walked through a season when God felt silent? What helped you continue turning toward Him? If you feel comfortable, share your experience in the comments. Your honesty may help another woman realize she is not alone. If this article encouraged you, consider sharing it with a friend who may be walking through a spiritually dry season. And if you would like more biblical encouragement, practical Bible-study resources, and Christ-centered teaching delivered to your inbox, subscribe to The Becoming Life newsletter. My hope is that together we will keep growing in our knowledge of God, finding healing through His truth and grace, and becoming more like Jesus in the ordinary places of our lives.
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