The other night, I opened my Bible, read the same verse three times, and still couldn’t tell you what it said. Not because I was distracted or tired—though I was—but because I wasn’t actually expecting anything to happen. I just felt like I should read it. It was on my to-do list, somewhere between replying to emails and taking out the trash.
And that’s the problem.
A lot of us were handed spiritual disciplines like they were keys to a vending machine—insert prayer, get peace. Read a chapter, receive clarity. Fast for a day, unlock God’s favor. But if you’ve walked with God for more than five minutes, you’ve already learned it doesn’t work like that.
We say we want closeness with God, but what we often settle for is performance. We stay busy doing all the “right” Christian things, and then get confused when we still feel far from Him. We think we’re hungry for God, but sometimes, we’re just afraid of what silence might reveal.
The truth is, discipline isn’t the same thing as connection. Reading your Bible isn’t a guarantee you’ll hear from God. Worship isn’t always emotional. Fasting won’t automatically make you feel holy. None of those things are bad—in fact, they’re necessary. But they’re only powerful when they’re paired with presence.
We’re not called to a formula. We’re called to a relationship.
That means showing up with our whole selves, not just our habits. You can fast out of desperation, worship out of routine, or pray out of fear. But if you’re not emotionally and spiritually present, it’s not intimacy—it’s just noise.
Think about it like this: You can take your spouse out to dinner, but if you spend the entire night on your phone, it doesn’t matter how nice the restaurant is. Technically, you showed up. But relationally, you weren’t there. That kind of surface-level effort might check a box, but it won’t build connection. Not with your spouse, and not with God.
The same goes for fasting. If you’re fasting to impress God, to manipulate a response, or to prove your spiritual seriousness, you’re missing the point. Fasting isn’t a hunger strike to get God’s attention. It’s a way of turning down the volume on everything else so you can hear Him more clearly. It’s for your benefit, not His.
And yes, there will be seasons when Scripture comes alive. When prayer feels electric. When worship feels like oxygen. But there will also be seasons when none of it seems to “work.” That doesn’t mean something’s broken. It might just mean the Spirit is inviting you to meet Him somewhere else.
That’s why discernment matters. The disciplines are tools, not trophies. They’re not about earning God’s love or proving your devotion. They’re about positioning yourself to hear and respond to His voice.
So ask yourself: Where did you last feel peace? Where did you last feel known? Where did you last feel connected to Jesus? Start there.
Sometimes, that connection looks like a well-worn Bible. Sometimes it looks like a walk around the block. Sometimes it’s quiet worship in your car. Sometimes it’s laughter with a friend who reminds you of who God is. It won’t always look “spiritual,” but that doesn’t make it any less sacred.
Of course, the danger is swinging the other way—ditching discipline altogether in the name of authenticity. But that’s not the answer either. The goal is not to abandon practice. The goal is to anchor practice in presence. To do it with God, not just for Him.
At the end of the day, spiritual maturity isn’t about mastering a checklist. It’s about learning to follow the Spirit’s lead. Sometimes that will look like a fast. Sometimes it will look like a nap. The point is not what you do, but who you’re doing it with.
So if you feel stuck, disconnected or spiritually dry, don’t panic. You’re not broken. You’re being invited. Start by asking the Spirit for help. Ask for discernment. Try a practice—not to perform, but to connect. Show up with your questions, your hunger, your exhaustion.
You don’t need to get it perfect. You just need to be present.
That’s where intimacy begins. And that’s where it always returns.
