A universal spiritual experience
There comes a time, in almost every journey of faith, when the sensation of God's presence disappears. The heart becomes dry. Prayer seems empty. Silence takes over. What once stirred the soul no longer does. God seems distant, or even absent. This experience is not an anomaly. It's part of the journey. And yet it can be disconcerting, painful, even frightening.
This feeling of emptiness, this impression that God no longer responds, has a name in spiritual tradition: dryness. The greatest believers have gone through it. Even Jesus, on the cross, cries out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" This cry reminds us that this suffering can be inhabited by faith. And that it is not the end of the dialogue with God, but often a new beginning.
God is not an emotion
In our world marked by immediacy, we often need to feel, to understand, to see in order to believe. But God is not a sensation. He is a deeper presence. When prayer no longer brings consolation, it doesn't mean that God has moved away. Sometimes it's even a sign that he's making us grow.
There's a difference between feeling God and believing in God. True faith is not based on emotions, but on rooted trust. As in a mature love relationship, there are periods when we feel nothing in particular, but when love lives on in simple gestures, in faithfulness, in silent presence. The same with God.
Staying faithful in silence
When we no longer feel God, the temptation is great to stop everything. To give up prayer, the Mass, the sacraments. Yet this is precisely when fidelity becomes precious. To continue despite the emptiness is to make an act of pure love. A prayer said without consolation is sometimes more valuable than one said with enthusiasm.
St. Thérèse of Lisieux used to say, "When I feel nothing, I act as if I believed." This is not hypocrisy, it is naked faith, based on the will, on the desire for God more than on feeling. It's not about pretending, but about standing there, waiting, like someone who keeps watch at night, sure that the dawn will come.
Seeking God differently
When the usual ways no longer bear fruit, it's perhaps an opportunity to discover other ways of entering into a relationship with God. Through silent contemplation. Through prayerful reading of the Bible. Through service to others. Through a walk in nature, listening to beauty, welcoming a simple word.
God often lets himself be approached when we stop looking for him insistently, when we agree not to control him, not to always feel him. He gives himself in the ordinary, in fragility, in small gestures made with love. God's silence is not necessarily a refusal. It can be an invitation to enter more deeply into the mystery.
Do not remain alone in trial
It is also important to talk about what you are experiencing. Spiritual dryness can isolate. We may believe that we are alone in experiencing this, that our faith is sick or even lost. In reality, many people go through it. Talking about it with a priest, a believing friend or a spiritual counsellor can be liberating and reassuring.
Hearing that others have been through it, that it doesn't mean that God has abandoned us, can breathe new life into us. Sometimes a simple word can rekindle a hidden ember. And faith, even reduced to a tiny flame, can go through the night.
God's faithfulness does not depend on our feelings
God is not faithful only when we feel him near. He is faithful always. Even in silence. Even in absence. Even in doubt. He continues to love, to carry, to heal deeply. He never tires of us. And often, it's only after the fact that we realise that he was there, present, acting in the shadows.
The spiritual night is not a failure. It is a passage. A stripping away. A purification. What we lose in emotion, we can gain in depth. God is not fireworks. He is an inner fire, discreet, but capable of warming all of life.
Conclusion
When we no longer feel God, we must not flee. You have to stay. You have to wait. Rely on the little loyalties of everyday life. Know that faith is not measured by what you feel, but by what you choose. And to believe that even in silence, even in emptiness, God is at work. He carves out a larger space within us to give himself in a different way. With patience. With tenderness. In his own way.
