From Honeymoon to Holy Formation

In the beginning of our walk with God, He often deals with us as children. There is a sweetness to prayer, a delight in worship, and a hunger for Scripture that feels almost effortless. His presence seems tangible. Tears come easily. Joy flows freely. We resonate with the words, “Taste and see that the Lord is good” (Psalm 34:8). We love because “He first loved us” (1 John 4:19). In this season, much of our Christian experience is tied to what we can sense outwardly. We feel His comfort. We perceive His guidance. We are attracted by the pleasantness of His ways.

There is nothing wrong with this season. It is necessary. Just as a father stoops down to reassure a small child, so God confirms His love in our early days. “As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear Him” (Psalm 103:13). He wins our affection. He establishes trust. He lets us experience the fruit of walking with Him—peace, hope, joy, rest. It is a honeymoon of sorts, and it anchors our hearts in the goodness of God.

Yet there is danger if we remain there. We can become attached not merely to God, but to the feelings associated with Him. We may subtly crave the emotional high of worship, the sweetness of devotion, or the outward confirmation of His nearness. Our faith can become dependent on sensation. But Scripture reminds us, “We walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7). Eventually, God begins to shift the terrain beneath our feet.

Then comes the second category of experience—the dry and obscure season. Prayer may feel empty. Worship may seem flat. Scripture may not stir us as before. God appears silent. Yet He has not left. In fact, He is working more deeply than ever. Job declared in his darkness, “Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him” (Job 13:15). This is no longer the language of spiritual infancy. This is mature surrender.

In this season, God begins to deal with us not merely as children, but as strong sons and daughters. He invites us into warfare—not primarily against outward circumstances, but against our own passions and against unseen spiritual opposition. “The flesh sets its desire against the Spirit” (Galatians 5:17). We discover that maturity requires resisting impulses, crucifying pride, and standing firm when emotion offers no support. “Put on the full armor of God” (Ephesians 6:11) becomes more than metaphor; it becomes daily necessity.

The dry season purifies our motives. It asks a piercing question: Do we love God for who He is, or for how He makes us feel? When Jesus asked Peter, “Do you love Me?” (John 21:16), He was calling him beyond enthusiasm into covenant. In dryness, we learn to obey without emotional reward. We learn to pray without immediate response. We learn to worship without sensation. Our will begins to align with His will. Like Christ in Gethsemane, we say, “Not My will, but Yours be done” (Luke 22:42).

This alignment is the true goal of spiritual formation. The Lord is not merely seeking emotional devotion; He is forming steadfast sons and daughters. “Solid food is for the mature” (Hebrews 5:14). Dry spells, though uncomfortable, develop endurance. “Let endurance have its perfect result, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing” (James 1:4). What feels like absence is often deep pruning. “Every branch that bears fruit, He prunes, that it may bear more fruit” (John 15:2).

The honeymoon season reveals God’s goodness. The dry season reveals our depth. In the first, He carries us. In the second, He strengthens us. In the first, we are drawn by delight. In the second, we are established by faith. Both are grace. Both are necessary. Neither is permanent.

If you are in a season of sweetness, receive it with gratitude. If you are in a season of dryness, stand firm with confidence. The same God governs both. He gains us through tenderness and purifies us through obscurity. And when our will is fully aligned with His—when we remain faithful in light and in darkness—we become unshakable. “Be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord” (1 Corinthians 15:58).

This is not the loss of intimacy; it is its maturation. God does not remove delight to harm us. He removes dependence on delight to establish us. In doing so, He forms in us a faith that is no longer ruled by outward sensation but anchored in covenant love.