Dealing with Dry Prayer

I sat in the same chair where I answer emails, juggling a half-cold tea and a to-do list longer than an Australian summer. I opened my mouth to pray, and nothing came out. Silence. Not the peaceful kind. The “is anyone on the other end?” kind.

If that’s you, you’re not broken. You’re human. And humans, even the ones who walked with Jesus, needed help. In Luke 11:1 they said, “Lord, teach us to pray.” Jesus’ answer wasn’t a lecture; it was a simple pattern; the Lord’s Prayer (Luke 11:2–4). It’s less fireworks and more fireplace: small logs, steady heat.

That Tuesday, I tried something embarrassingly small. I set a chair for God, I set a 5-minute timer, and I spoke one honest line. No theatrics. No spiritual gymnastics. Something shifted, not the room, me.

The feeling you can’t shake

Dry prayer feels like:

• You show up and feel nothing.

• Your mind sprints away mid-sentence.

• Guilt whispers, “You’re bad at this,” so you avoid trying again.

But the psalmist gives us a different picture:

“Trust in Him at all times; pour out your hearts before Him; God is a refuge for us.” (Psalm 62:8)

Pour out doesn’t mean polish up. It means tip the cup exactly as it is. Here is a tiny framework that actually works.

Think like a designer (clear constraints), worship like a child (honest heart), and keep time like a musician (steady groove). Three moves:

1. Set a chair for God. Pick one physical place and claim it. Kitchen chair. Balcony chair. Park bench. When that chair is “the place,” you remove the first barrier, decision fatigue.Pro tip: leave a small cue there a Bible, a notebook, or the Lord’s Prayer printed on a card.

2. Five-minute fixed time. Same time every day. Timer on 5:00. When it dings, you’re done. Consistency beats intensity because consistency compounds.

   • Arrive (1 min): Breathe slow. “Jesus, I’m here.”

   • Read (1 min): Pray the Lord’s Prayer slowly.

   • Pour (1–2 min): Say what’s actually in you worry, gratitude, numbness.

   • Listen (30 sec): Sit in quiet. Note any nudge.

   • Commit (30 sec): “Father, today I will ___ with You.”

3. One line of honest prayer. Carry one sentence into your day:

   • “Father, I don’t feel You, but I trust You.”

   • “Jesus, teach me to pray like You prayed.”

   • “Spirit, steady my mind and soften my tone.”

By day three, I wasn’t levitating; I was listening. The same worries kept crashing my prayer: a tough conversation I was avoiding, a friend I’d forgotten to check on. Instead of treating distractions like failures, I let them become the agenda. When the meeting popped into my head, I prayed, “Your kingdom come in that conversation.”When my friend’s face surfaced, I said his name out loud and asked for peace over his home. It turns out, if your mind drifts twenty times and twenty times you return to God, that’s not failure, it’s twenty prayers.