How To Be Thankful When You're In a Spiritual Drought
We all go through difficult seasons of life where God feels far away. Thankfully, our feelings are not the measure of His nearness, and we can choose gratitude even when we find ourselves in a spiritual desert.
I’ve always loved hiking. When I was young, my family would take trips through the forests of the San Juan Islands in northern Washington.
It wasn’t just the walking that I loved so much; it was the exploring. The exhilaration of finding a new trail and discovering where it led. The sense of adventure that came with the unknown. Once we found a trail, it was hard to keep myself from running on ahead.
In some ways, that early excitement reminds me of what it’s like to be a new Christian. Those first days after giving your heart to Christ, you feel like you can take on the world. You’re filled with passion, energy, and joy. But hiking and faith aren’t just about the first steps. They’re not a sprint to the finish. They’re a journey.
The Weight We Carry
As I got older, my hiking experiences changed. I traded the lush, cool forests of Washington for the dry, rugged trails of Idaho.
I gave up light day packs for heavy overnight backpacks, lugging up to forty pounds of gear, water, and, if I’m honest, way too many snacks. On those trips with friends, the first few miles always started with excitement, laughter, and plans for how far we’d go before lunch. But as the day wore on and the sun pressed down, that joy began to fade. My shoulders ached. My mouth grew dry. Each step became a question: How much further? I’d lose sight of the joy that sent me hiking in the first place.
There are times when faith feels easy. I feel full of God’s presence. Worship seems to flow on instinct. But there are also long, dusty stretches when the excitement fades. I know what my faith should feel like, but I just don’t feel it. Those moments of spiritual dryness echo the song of Psalm 42.
“As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God.
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God? My tears have been my food day and night, while people say to me all day long, ‘Where is your God?’” — Psalm 42:2–3
The writer of Psalm 42 doesn’t pretend everything is fine. He doesn’t fake joy or plaster on a smile. He acknowledges his dryness, but he doesn’t wallow in it. He keeps putting one foot in front of the other. Psalm 42:2-3 says, “Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.”
It’s an incredible moment of self-awareness. The psalmist almost steps outside himself, recognizing his despair, but choosing to keep walking. He doesn’t deny the dryness, as we’re so often tempted to do. He meets it with faith.
Choosing Thankfulness in the Desert
There’s something deeply instructive in that posture. The psalmist doesn’t praise God because he feels joy. He praises God until he does. Gratitude, like love, isn’t just a feeling. It’s a choice. When we’re in seasons of drought, thankfulness can feel forced. But choosing to praise God, even when the air feels thick and the trail seems endless, reorients our hearts to who He is. Because at the end of the day, our thankfulness shouldn’t depend on how we feel. It should rest on His character and promise.
We all walk through spiritual wilderness from time to time. We come upon stretches where God feels silent, where our prayers seem to echo back unanswered.
But the God who refreshed our souls in the lush forests of early faith is the same God who walks with us along dry ground. His presence doesn’t depend on how refreshed we feel. His love doesn’t waver with the terrain.
“By day the Lord directs his love, at night his song is with me — a prayer to the God of my life.” — Psalm 42:8
The refreshing waters will come. Maybe not in our timing. Maybe not in the way we expect. But they will come. So keep walking. Keep praising. Keep choosing gratitude. Because even on the driest trails, God is the ever-living water.
