Breath to Bones: Recovering an Embodied, Living Faith

When Faith Feels Like Dry Bones, How Do We Stand Again?

I don’t know when it happened exactly.

Maybe for you, it was slow—like water wearing away stone. Little fractures here and there. The quiet loss of something you once knew.

Or maybe it was sudden. A collapse. A breaking apart. A moment when faith, once vibrant and real, turned to dust in your hands.

Whichever way it happened, here you are now. Looking at the bones.

The Moment You Realize Your Faith Feels Dead

Ezekiel knew something about valleys like this.

"The hand of the Lord was on me, and he brought me out by the Spirit of the Lord and set me in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones." (Ezekiel 37:1)

I imagine the silence first. The hush of what once lived, now reduced to remains. The stillness of things that should be moving but aren't anymore.

The bones were very dry—not freshly fallen, but long forgotten.

There’s a kind of grief that comes when you realize your faith has dried up like that. When the prayers feel empty. The practices feel performative. When you’re showing up out of duty, but your soul feels like a shell.

Maybe you’ve been there. Maybe you’re there now.

And the question rises: What happened?

How We End Up in the Valley

Faith doesn’t die all at once.

Most often, it withers under the weight of performance.

The doing of faith can become a measure of spiritual worth—how often you read the Bible, how well you pray, how faithfully you serve, how much you conform to the expectations of the community around you.

Until one day, the practices that once felt like breath start to feel like burdens.

Until exhaustion replaces presence.

Until you wake up and realize you are in a valley full of bones.

And you wonder: Is there anything left to save?

Ezekiel stood in such a valley.

And God asked him a haunting question:

"Son of man, can these bones live?" (Ezekiel 37:3)

It is not a question of possibility—it is a question of imagination.

Can you believe that what feels dead can breathe again?

Bones Before Breath

When faith feels dead, we often think renewal means rebuilding immediately—adding more spiritual disciplines, forcing ourselves back into practices that once sustained us, trying harder.

But Ezekiel’s vision doesn’t begin with breath.

God doesn’t tell him to breathe life into the bones first.

He tells him to speak to the bones.

"So I prophesied as I was commanded. And as I prophesied, there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them." (Ezekiel 37:7-8)

The bones reassemble. They take shape. But they are not alive yet.

Because structure is not life.

We can put things back together—we can reconstruct theology, return to spiritual practices, find new ways to engage faith—but without the breath of God, without the Spirit’s presence, it remains a lifeless form.

It’s possible to build a faith that looks whole but isn’t alive.

The Breath That Brings Life

Only then does God tell Ezekiel to speak to the breath:

"Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to it, 'This is what the Sovereign Lord says: Come, breath, from the four winds and breathe into these slain, that they may live.'" (Ezekiel 37:9)

Structure alone is not enough.

Practices, disciplines, theology—these are good, necessary, holy things. But they do not create life.

Life comes from breath.

From presence.
From receiving, not striving.
From letting God breathe into what feels dead.

Maybe what you need right now is not just a new structure—but the breath that makes it live.

To stop striving.
To stop performing.
To allow yourself to stand in the valley and wait for the wind.

Because faith is not something you resurrect by force.

It is something God breathes back to life.

Standing Again

Eventually, the bones rattle. They begin to align.

Eventually, the breath enters them.

Eventually, they stand again.

"So I prophesied as he commanded me, and breath entered them; they came to life and stood up on their feet—a vast army." (Ezekiel 37:10)

But they do not stand as they were before.

Not as people going through the motions.
Not as dry bones disguised in flesh.
Not as performers of a faith that no longer holds weight.

They stand as a people who know what it means to be brought back to life.

And so will you.

But first, the breath.

A Question for You

Have you felt this exhaustion? Have you felt faith turn to dust?

What would it look like for you to stop striving and listen for the breath?

Let’s talk in the comments. I want to hear your story.

And if you’re ready to walk this journey—
To move from exhaustion to renewal, from dryness to life—
Stay with me.

This is only the beginning.