A funny thing happened when I started writing these columns. I kept receiving responses from readers like this one.

“Life, unfortunately, has worn me down (as it does) and I’m further away from my personal relationship with God and the church than I ever have been. I’m still a dutiful parishioner and take my children to sacramental classes and Mass every so often, but it’s mostly going through the motions. I’d like to change that, but there are a number of obstacles that I’m not sure I can overcome.”

Lauretta Hannon

I think we’ve all experienced the spiritual blahs, seasons of feeling lukewarm at best. Times when our faith falters and our gusto dims to the point that we wonder if it’s worth it. If you’re sensing a disconnection from God, take heart: you’ve joined the company of the saints, a number of whom endured years in such desolation.

Whether you’re in a temporary funk or have been away from the church for decades, here are things to consider.

-Expect your faith to be tested in this fallen world. It is entirely normal to get the ho-hums and the humdrums. This will pass as long as you don’t give up. I repeat: this will pass.

-Rest assured that God is still right there, even when you’ve checked out. He doesn’t exit the building or throw anyone away.

-As the old gospel song says, “God don’t never change.” If your fire is fading, perhaps it’s because you’ve neglected the relationship. No worries: those dying cinders are designed for reignition. Your setback is preparing you for the comeback.

-Feelings are not your friend. In fact, don’t believe everything you feel–or think for that matter–because a percentage of thoughts and feelings are straight-up lies. Instead, focus on faithfulness rather than emotions. Keep grinding.

Yes, I know you’re not feeling it. To put it in the vernacular, “fake it ‘til you make it.” You will get there if you do your part. How? The answer is Grace. Always, Grace.

If I was a doctor of some sort, I’d prescribe infusion therapy and a daily Catholic vitamin to treat the doldrums. Infusion therapy would include: Mass attendance, prayer, Scripture reading, confession, adoration and discussion with a pastor or spiritual director.

And don’t forget to make frequent flights home to mama, our Blessed Mother. She won’t do your laundry, but she will grant tender refuge.

I’d have you take a daily Catholic vitamin to fortify your system with the beauty and truth of the faith. Here are suggestions, but select the formulations right for you.

-Listen to holy music that stirs your soul. I find Gregorian chant deliciously satisfying because it ticks the devil off, and he runs like a scalded dog. That’s what I call a safe and proven vaccine.

-View and sit with sacred art. I’m in an El Greco phase at the moment. A Greek painter and leading figure of the Spanish Renaissance, El Greco’s visions are arresting and almost hypnotic. They help me in meditation.

-Read the saints in their own words. You’ll be comforted by how real and human and flawed they actually were. Our saints aren’t plaster. They are flesh and blood.

-Learn about great believers. I’m reading the autobiography of Servant of God Dorothy Day. Her social justice work is electrifying my desire to do and be better.

-Other easy strategies: tune your radio to The Quest Atlanta; visit Catholic places such as Heritage in Sharon; get outside and pray as you stroll; meet up with Catholic friends.

When the world is too much with you, these “prescriptions” are efficacious. But above all, you must stay hopeful even when you can’t see a solution to the stagnation.

Sunflowers are seen on a warm summer day. CNS photo/Thomas Lorsung

The late Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh gave this perspective. “In April we cannot see sunflowers in France, so we might say that sunflowers do not exist. But the local farmers have already planted thousands of seeds, and when they look at the bare hills, they may be able to see the sunflowers already. The sunflowers are there. They lack only the conditions of sun, heat, rain, and July. Just because we cannot see them does not mean that they do not exist.”

Trust that there’s a benevolent underpinning in your life, especially in the inert hours of doubt and desolation. Remember that those seemingly fallow fields might just contain thousands upon thousands of burgeoning seeds.