I don’t know what it’s like where you live, but here in North Carolina it’s been very dry. We are 13″ below drought levels, and the grass is yellow, thirsty, and waiting for rain. If we’re honest, many church workers know that feeling. We feel cracked, thirsty, waiting for a “refreshing rain” to shower over us, but it doesn’t seem to come. There are seasons when our inner landscape looks like my yard: parched and stretched thin. Seasons when even a “sprinkle” of rest would be welcomed, but when they come, they evaporate quickly in the heat of our work. There are times we realize that even after we’ve tried to rest, we are still “below drought levels.”

Dry spells come for many reasons. Sometimes it’s the slow grind of ministry demands or the emotional weight of walking alongside hurting people. Sometimes it’s conflict or the quiet ache of feeling unseen. Sometimes it’s simply that we’ve been pouring out more than we’ve been receiving.

Scripture is no stranger to drought imagery.

Elijah lived through a literal drought while carrying the spiritual drought of discouragement. Israel wandered through wilderness seasons where water was scarce and hope felt thin. Dryness is part of the human story, and it’s going to be part of our ministry story too.

But here’s the good news: God does some of His most tender work in dry places.

In drought seasons, we learn to pay attention to the small signs of grace. A five‑minute pause. A quiet prayer whispered between tasks. A conversation that unexpectedly refreshes. A moment of laughter. A verse that lands differently today than it did yesterday. These are the “sprinkles” of water that keep us going. They’re not enough to end the drought, but enough to remind us that God has not forgotten us in it.

Wellness isn’t about waiting for a downpour. It’s about tending the soil of our souls with whatever water we can find. It’s choosing small, steady practices that keep us connected to the Source: a walk, a breath, a psalm, a nap. These are not luxuries. They are lifelines that lead us to an eternal promise:

Not trickles. Not drops. Rivers that are abundant and renewing — overflowing water that does not depend on our strength or our productivity.

So, if you’re in a drought right now, take heart. Tend your soul with small sips of grace. Trust that God is already drawing you toward deeper waters. And remember: the drought is real, but so is the River.

The drought is real — but so is the River.