In the Valley
Prayer for When You Feel Empty
When you're not sad exactly. Just hollow. Like someone scooped out the part of you that used to care and left a shell. A prayer for the emptiness that scares you because you can't even feel the sadness anymore.
God, I don't feel anything right now. I need you to know that. I'm not coming to you full. I'm coming to you empty. Dry. The way ground gets dry in a long summer. Cracked at the edges.
I haven't felt close to you in a while. The prayers feel like they're bouncing off the ceiling. The worship songs feel like words. I sit in the quiet and it's just quiet. And I miss you. That's the strange part. I miss you even while I feel far from you.
As the hart panteth after the water brooks, so panteth my soul after thee, O God. I know that longing. I know what it feels like to want water and not know where it is. To be thirsty for something that nothing else satisfies. That's what this is.
My soul thirsteth for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God? When, Lord? I'm not asking in anger. Just when? Because the dry seasons feel long from the inside.
My tears have been my meat day and night. There it is. I'm grieving something I can't quite name. A closeness that used to feel natural. A faith that used to feel effortless. I want it back. And David felt this too, and you did not leave him in it. Psalm 42 says Why art thou cast down, O my soul? And why art thou disquieted within me? David was talking to himself. Asking himself why. Sometimes the most honest thing we can do is ask ourselves the question instead of just living in the answer.
Hope thou in God. Hope. Not feel. Hope. A choice made in the absence of feeling. For I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance. Yet. I shall yet. It hasn't happened yet. But it will.
Deep calleth unto deep. The deep place in me is calling to the deep place in you. Even when I can't feel it. Even when the surface is still and silent. The depth of my need is reaching toward the depth of your goodness.
Yet the Lord will command his lovingkindness in the daytime. And in the night his song shall be with me. A song in the night. Even in the dry season. Even in the quiet. Maybe that's what this prayer is. The song I didn't know I still had.
I still believe, Lord. Barely. But barely counts. I'm here. Still here. Still asking. Still yours.
In the name of Jesus, I pray.
Amen.
Listen to This Prayer
Backed by ambient music. Made to be heard, not just read.
Audio version coming soon.