How is it possible I haven’t posted on this blog in over six months?! I had the best of intentions and lots of half-formed reflections that just never made it onto the page. I kept telling myself I would work on something next week or the week after…or the week after. Isn’t that how most people fall into creative ruts or writer’s block? And isn’t it possible that the same sense of drifting can happen in our spiritual lives?

Drifting away from God is easier than you might think. Slipping into a spiritual dry spell can happen so gradually that before you know it you’re in the middle of the desert without a drop of water in sight! It isn’t anything we do on purpose, and sometimes we don’t stop long enough to realize what’s happened. We just wake up one day and realize that our connection to God—the divine thread that ties us to our loving Creator—feels old and faded and brittle. Do any of the following words accurately describe your spiritual life right now?

DRIED-UP •  BRITTLE • WILTED  • STALE • BARREN

It’s perfectly normal to go through dry times in your faith life. We all experience days in the desert. Sometimes days turn into weeks and months. But that doesn’t have to be the end of your story! Let me share with you a story of hope. 

Over a year ago now, my husband and I took up kiddie-pool gardening as a “pandemic project.”  Basically, we planted assorted vegetables and herbs in a soil-filled kiddie pool on our back porch. Amazingly, we had some success, and we got such a thrill from eating salads made with our own cucumbers or eating margherita pizza made with our own basil and tomatoes, that we decided to give it a go again this summer. But this year, we diversified beyond cucumbers and tomatoes, thanks to my husband’s co-worker Bill, who gave us some small eggplant seedlings. 

Unfortunately, due to a bunch of factors—including a big family trip in June and a ridiculously long stretch of rain in July—we didn’t even get around to buying the soil for the kiddie pool until mid-July, let alone planting anything. That meant those eggplant seedlings—the generous gift from Bill—just sat in the garage, essentially abandoned, for a month. 

When we were finally ready to plant, Mark brought out the dried-up eggplant sprouts. I shook my head. They were shriveled and withered, and didn’t look at all viable. When I plucked them out of their plastic containers, the soil around the roots crumbled away in my hands. I thought we should just toss them and cut our losses, but Mark wasn’t ready to give up. Instead, he planted the eggplant, even though we had such little confidence those seedlings would grow, we didn’t even grant them a spot in the kiddie pool; instead, we relegated them to a big pot next to the pool. 

“Let’s just water it and see what happens,” Mark said. For a long time, exactly nothing happened. Then—much to my astonishment—the green sprouts began to grow. Taller and fuller. Healthy and lush. And one day in early August I came out to the deck and found this.

The eggplants grew and grew until they were big enough to pick and bake. I enjoyed the best-tasting eggplant parmigiana I’ve ever had. What I thought were dead plants came back to life and fed and sustained and brought joy.

So what appeared to be dried up and withered, was actually only dormant…lying asleep, waiting for the right moment to wake up and sprout and grow.

Instead of viewing your spiritual life as something dead and brittle, try to view it as temporarily asleep, anticipating that gentle nudge from a loving God who is waiting for you. God provides the water and sunshine, and you do the growing. Just let it happen. 

Feel God’s presence. 
Bask in the warm rays of the sun. 
Soak up the quenching rain. 

Don’t focus on doing the “hard work” of getting back in touch with God. That’s not the work of the desert. Start by simply letting yourself grow in awareness. In every living thing you encounter, God is there. God is alive! With you. Surrounding you. Sit with that feeling for a few minutes, and then more and more each day. You will find your dried up roots begin to stretch and strengthen. To dig deep into the soil, searching for new life. 

You may have drifted away from God for a time, but it has only ever been temporary.

Photo by laura adai on Unsplash