Let’s be honest: spiritual growth doesn’t always feel like growth. Sometimes it feels like standing in your living room, praying out loud, and wondering if your words are getting stuck in the ceiling fan.
Nobody likes to admit it, but even strong Christians have those seasons where God seems quieter than usual — where prayer feels like talking to a voicemail inbox that’s still somehow full.
But here’s the thing: silence isn’t absence.
It just feels like it, and feelings… well, they’re terrible at theology.
Spiritual growth isn’t measured by goosebumps, emotional highs, or how many mornings you woke up ready to belt a worship song like you’re auditioning for a Christian version of The Voice. More often, it’s measured in the slow, steady, deeply unglamorous work of discipleship — the daily choices you make when nobody’s looking, nobody’s applauding, and you’re not exactly bursting with holy enthusiasm.
In other words, growth usually feels like Tuesday.
When God feels silent, most of us go through the exact same cycle:
Step 1: Panic.
Step 2: Assume we’ve done something wrong.
Step 3: Wonder if we missed some sort of divine memo.
Step 4: Go back through every sin we’ve committed since 1997 just in case.
But silence isn’t punishment.
Silence is a classroom.
Think about the disciples. They followed Jesus around for three years — they literally had the Son of God as their mentor — and they still spent half their time confused. Jesus would explain something, and they’d respond with the spiritual equivalent of “Huh?”
Growth has always been slower than we want it to be.
Here’s something we don’t hear enough: faith grows best in the boring parts.
Not in the dramatic moments, not in the crises, not in the big spiritual breakthroughs — although those definitely matter — but in the quiet decisions we make over and over again.
Reading the Bible when it doesn’t “speak to you.”
Praying when the words come out dry.
Choosing grace when irritation feels easier.
Saying no to gossip even when the story is really good.
Showing up for God even when the mood does not match the mission.
This is discipleship.
It’s not flashy. It’s not Instagrammable. It will not trend.
But heaven notices every bit of it.
A lot of Christians think they’re failing simply because their spiritual life doesn’t feel exciting. But excitement isn’t transformation. Consistency is. And consistency requires trust — real trust — the kind that isn’t based on what you feel, but on who God is.
When toddlers are learning to walk, parents don’t carry them everywhere. They step back, give space, let the kid wobble, fall, get up, try again. That distance isn’t neglect — it’s development. It’s giving them room to learn balance.
Sometimes God steps back a little so we can grow our balance.
The silence teaches us to rely on His character instead of our emotions.
It teaches us to press into Scripture even when the story feels familiar.
It teaches us to pray because we love Him, not because we need a rush of spiritual caffeine.
It teaches us patience, which — unfortunately for us — is always taught the slow way.
But here’s the good news:
Silence never lasts forever.
Sooner or later, the breakthrough comes. The peace returns. The clarity lands. The prayer gets answered. And when that moment happens, you realize something important — you didn’t drift. You didn’t fall apart. You didn’t give up. You held on.
That’s spiritual growth.
Not the emotional spikes — the endurance.
So if God feels quiet right now, take heart. You’re not abandoned. You’re not forgotten. You’re not doing this wrong. You’re simply walking through the part of discipleship where roots grow deeper.
And deeper roots?
Those are what keep you standing when the storms hit.
Leave a Comment