When Prayer Feels Dry

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? …Yet you are holy.” (Psalm 22:1–3)

“Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24)

“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.” (Hebrews 10:23)

There are seasons when prayer feels like talking into a quiet room. You open your mouth, you try the words, you do what you’ve always done, and nothing lands. No warmth. No sense of God’s nearness. No “moment.” Just a flat, numb silence that makes you wonder if something’s wrong with you…or worse, if God has stepped back.

If that’s you right now, breathe. You’re not failing. You’re not alone. And you’re not the first.

Psalm 22 starts with a cry that sounds raw, almost shocking: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” That’s not a polished prayer. That’s not the kind you put on a highlight reel. That’s a prayer from the dry place — and it’s in Scripture on purpose. God didn’t edit it out. He canonised it. Which means dry prayers still count as real prayers. Honest emptiness is not disqualifying; it’s human. Even Jesus prayed Psalm 22 on the cross. Let that sink in. The Son of God entered a moment where prayer wasn’t wrapped in felt consolation, and He stayed faithful anyway. So when your heart feels numb, you’re not outside the story of faith. You’re inside it.

Here’s the hard truth about dry seasons: feelings are a beautiful gift, but they’re a terrible foundation. They are weather, not compass. If you build your prayer life on emotion, you’ll only pray when the skies are clear. But faith grows when you learn to pray through fog.

Mark 9:24 gives us one of the most human prayers ever recorded: “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!” That is not a contradiction; it’s discipleship. It’s a person saying, “I’m here. I don’t feel strong. I don’t feel sure. But I’m still turning toward You.” That kind of prayer is precious to God because it’s real. Dry seasons teach us how to bring God what we actually are, not what we wish we were.

So what do you do when prayer feels dry?

1) Keep showing up - smaller than you think. You don’t need dramatic devotion to stay faithful. You need consistency. If all you can offer today is two minutes and a whisper, offer that. A dry season doesn’t call for quitting; it calls for simplifying. Faithfulness isn’t loud. It’s steady.

2) Pray with Scripture when you don’t have words. Dryness can make your own words feel empty. That’s okay. Borrow God’s words back to Him. Pray Psalm 22. Pray Psalm 23. Pray a single line from the Gospels. Let Scripture give you language when you don’t have any.

3) Name what’s true even when you don’t feel it. Hebrews 10:23 says, “Hold fast…for he who promised is faithful.” Notice it doesn’t say, “Hold fast because you feel strong.” It says, hold fast because He is faithful. Dry seasons are where your soul learns the difference between God’s character and your sensations.

4) Ask for simple grace, not fireworks. Sometimes we’re waiting for God to break in with something huge, and the Spirit is saying, “Let Me meet you in the small.” A quiet peace. A single next step. A gentle nudge to keep going. Dry seasons often come with subtle mercies — bread for today, not a banquet for next year.

And here’s the secret you only learn by walking through dryness: God is doing more in you than you can feel. Roots grow underground. You don’t watch them work. You don’t applaud them. But when the storm comes, the tree stands because of what happened in the dark. Dry prayer is root-building prayer. So if your prayers feel numb right now, don’t measure your faith by your feelings. Measure it by your turning. Every time you choose to show up anyway, you are telling your soul, “God is worthy, even here.” And that is a worship that heaven recognises.

Everyday action

Today, set a 2-minute “dry prayer” timer. When it goes off, do just this:

1. Read one short Psalm (Psalm 23 or Psalm 22).

2. Say: “Jesus, I’m still here.”

3. Sit in silence for the rest of the timer.

No pressure to feel anything. Simply show up. - that’s faith in a dry season, and it’s beautiful to God.

Prayer

Jesus, I’m here, even though I feel dry. My heart feels quiet, and my prayers feel small, and I don’t know what to do with the numbness. But I choose to turn toward You today. Teach me to trust Your faithfulness more than my feelings. Give me simple grace to keep showing up, and let Your Word carry me when mine runs out. I believe, help my unbelief.

Amen.