Faith on Empty: What to Do When You Can’t ‘Do Devotions’

There are seasons when your Bible sits unopened on the table, your journal untouched, your prayers feel empty or forced, and your heart just feels tired. I know this season well. I’ve been in it more than once. And when I find myself here, one thing becomes clear. This isn’t about laziness or not loving God. It’s about being weary. It’s about being completely drained and not knowing how to pour out what you don’t have.

As mothers, we carry so much. Our minds are full, our hands are busy, and our hearts are often overwhelmed. There’s a kind of exhaustion that goes deeper than just feeling tired. It touches your soul. And that’s when guilt tries to sneak in. You start wondering why you can’t show up for God the way you used to. Why opening your Bible feels like a chore. Why prayer feels silent and distant.

But here’s what I’ve come to understand. God doesn’t love us less when we’re running on empty. He isn’t waiting for us to have it all together before He meets us. He sees the woman who whispers “help” while folding laundry. He sees the one crying in the shower because it’s the only quiet place she has. He hears the sighs. He knows the unspoken fears. He receives the prayers that never even made it past your thoughts.

I used to think I had to give God my best in order to come to Him. But I’ve learned that He wants me to come just as I am. Even if all I have to offer is a tired heart and five quiet minutes. Maybe that silence is your offering today. Maybe it’s just turning off the noise for a second, placing your hand over your chest, and saying “God, I miss You.”

Faith doesn’t disappear in dry seasons. Sometimes it grows roots in places nobody sees. And those roots are what will hold you steady when you feel like you’re falling apart. These are the moments when trust becomes less about feelings and more about choosing to believe that He’s still with you.

So if you’re too tired to “do devotions” right now, it’s okay. He isn’t disappointed in you. He’s sitting right there with you. Not demanding. Just waiting. He’s in your stillness. He’s in your chaos. He’s in your deep sighs. He’s in your small yes.

You don’t have to perform for Him. You just have to come.

Lord, You see me when I feel lost and tired. You know my heart even when my words are few. Help me remember that You don’t need a perfect prayer or a quiet hour. Just a willing heart. Thank You for meeting me in the middle of the mess and reminding me You’re still here. Amen

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It’s Always Been You, Lord

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What St. Joseph Taught Me About Faith, Family, and Quiet Strength