What if I don’t feel anything when I pray

The lack of feeling is not the lack of God. Feelings are weather; communion is climate. Elijah looked for God in the wind and the fire and heard Him in “a still small voice” (1 Kings 19:12) — still and small, which is to say easy to miss and impossible to manufacture. If your prayers were weather-dependent, God would only be present on the days you are moved. He has never once worked that way.

Consider that the dryness might be doing something. Every tradition that takes prayer seriously has a word for the arid season, and the counsel down the centuries is uniform: do not change anything. Keep the appointment. A marriage is not only the wedding, and prayer is not only the sweetness. “Continue in prayer, and watch in the same with thanksgiving” (Colossians 4:2) — continue, which assumes there will be stretches that only continuation carries. You are not praying wrong. You are praying through.

Also, honestly: check the simple things. Exhaustion numbs the soul the way it numbs the body. Unconfessed anger quiets something. Unresolved grief speaks in flatness. And sometimes feeling has simply been asked to carry more than it was built for. So pray with your body in it — aloud, walking, kneeling, written by hand — and let the feelings come home in their own time. “We walk by faith, not by sight” (2 Corinthians 5:7) — and not by feeling either. You showed up. In the economy of love, showing up is most of it.