When the Battery Ran Dry

When the Battery Ran Dry

The Morning Disconnect

The cobblestone path was slick with morning dew as Jonathan made his way through the narrow lanes he'd walked a hundred times before. Six-thirty AM. The same route, the same rhythm. The baker's light already glowed warm in the darkness, and somewhere a dog barked its daily greeting.

His phone was playing an old hymn-one that used to move him when the screen suddenly went black. Mid-song. Mid-step. The music cut off, the map disappeared, and Jonathan stood there in the pre-dawn stillness, staring at his own reflection in the dead screen.

For a man who'd navigated refugee camps and disaster zones, being lost in his own neighbourhood should have been laughable. But it wasn't the streets that confused him. It was the strange emptiness he felt inside as if his phone's blank screen had somehow revealed his own.

"When did I last feel truly alive in this?" he whispered to the empty street.

The Parallel

Later, plugging his phone into the charger, Jonathan couldn't shake the image. That useless device crammed with apps, contacts, music, everything he needed rendered worthless by an empty battery.

He thought about his recent prayers: rushed, routine, words without weight. His Bible reading had become a checkbox. Even these morning walks felt more like habit than worship.

He'd spent years in humanitarian work, running on adrenaline and faith, witnessing miracles amid crises. But here, in the quiet safety of everyday life, he felt... depleted. Going through motions.

Romans 8:11 came to mind, accusingly: "The Spirit of God, who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you. And just as God raised Christ Jesus from the dead, he will give life to your mortal bodies by this same Spirit living within you."

Jonathan sat with that verse. The Spirit wasn't meant to be emergency power, something he drew on during the hard seasons – back in Haiti and Bangladesh. The Spirit was supposed to be his constant source, his daily charge, his very life current.

Without it, he was just going through the motions. A device without power. All potential, no presence.

Bread and Breath

Jonathan had taken up baking after returning home-partly for therapy, partly to stay busy. There was something grounding about working with flour, milk, eggs, butter, sugar, and water, about creating something with his hands.

That afternoon, kneading dough for his neighbour’s birthday, he pressed his palms into the soft mass and watched it slowly come alive under his fingers. Add yeast. Add warmth. Add time. The dense lump would soon become something warm and fragrant, something that brought people together.

But without the yeast, without that invisible, living element, it was just... matter. Dead ingredients.

Just like me without the Spirit, he thought, dusting flour from his hands.

That's when it clicked. The Spirit isn't an add-on to the Christian life; it's the animating force. God's breath in us. The difference between existence and truly living.

Reflection for the readers and folks on the journey

How many of us are running on empty batteries, going through the spiritual motions while our inner batteries drain? We show up to church, say the prayers, read the verse-of-the-day, but somewhere along the way, we've lost the current that makes it all matter.

The truth is, we can't recharge ourselves. We need reconnection with the Source. And the source is the word and not people, keep that in mind. Romans 8:11 isn't resurrection after death; it's about resurrection now, in your Monday morning, in your exhausted Friday evening, in your "I'm just going through the motions" season, like me when I don’t listen to my inner voice, take some wrong advice, and bend rules.

The Spirit who raised Jesus from death wants to breathe life into your weary soul today. Not willpower. Not trying harder. Not guilt-driven discipline. But genuine, life-giving power makes faith feel alive again.

What needs resurrecting in your life? Where has the screen gone blank? The same Spirit who hovered over the void at creation, who breathed life into dust, who rolled away the stone, that Spirit lives in you and me.

Maybe it's time to stop trying to run on empty and simply ask: "Breathe, Lord. Breathe into me again."

The Wayfarer continues walking, baking, and sharing bread-both the kind that fills stomachs and the kind that feeds souls. For him his kitchen has become his mission field, one honey cake at a time.

Adios Amigo…Bone Appetite

Till we bake again!!

An Invitation to Breathe Again

Jonathan's walks became different after that week. Less about the route, more about the reconnection. He started leaving his phone at home sometimes, choosing instead to pray aloud, to notice the light breaking through the clouds, to let silence speak.

He began tucking handwritten notes into the bread he shared: simple reminders about God's ability to resurrect what seems dead. One neighbour, going through a divorce, told him the note made her cry, then gave her hope.

"We think we're done when the power runs out," Jonathan wrote to an old colleague from his aid-work days. "But God specializes in resurrection. The same Spirit that raised Jesus is available to us, not just for dying, but for living. Really living."