It seems that "dryness" as a synonym for God's absence, for feeling spiritually bereft, is an ancient one. It's there in today's morning psalm. "I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land." That's how it feels to me. After I first experienced the stirring of a mature faith but before I had learned the language of "spirituality," I described my first real encounter with God's absence as "feeling dry."
Such dry times come over me with more regularity than I like to admit. It is terribly frustrating to pray, to spend time in silence, and feel that I am alone. It feels like being in the desert, aching with thirst, and lifting a water bottle to my lips to find nothing but dust. My worst doubts emerge in such dry times.
I have often longed for a surefire way to quench these times, some magic formula or practice that would immediately leave me feeling spiritually refreshed. But I have never discovered one. However I have begun to develop, somewhat grudgingly, some appreciation for my dry times. Not that I enjoy them, but they are often powerful motivators, and they also provide a contrast that makes me relish those times of God's bountiful presence all the more.
I think that much of my spiritual "growth" over the years has come out of searching for a presence that seemed to have become lost. This dryness might be compared with a lover's longing for the other. I cannot imagine a lover who has never experienced such longing. It may even be that this longing is necessary in order to validate and confirm a deep and abiding love. So too with dryness?
I think it was Frederick Buechner who said, "Doubt is the ants in the pants of faith." Perhaps dryness works in similar fashion, prodding us and drawing us deeper into the mysterious and wonderful life of God.
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