Every year, right around the time I’m stuffing the last of the garden tools into the shed and pretending I’m absolutely not behind on winter prep, December comes barreling in like a sugared-up toddler. One minute I’m peacefully admiring the quiet fields, and the next I’m drowning in Christmas concerts, cookie exchanges, missing mittens, and the annual hunt for the wrapping paper I definitely bought last year. Somewhere in this chaotic swirl of slowing down and speeding up, I feel the deep need for finding peace in spiritual winter—a quiet place for my soul to land while the homestead settles and my calendar explodes.
If your December feels like a juggling act with mittens, math lessons, and moods, you might enjoy my post on the unqualified homeschool mom—and the grace God gives in the middle of it all.
What Isaiah Teaches Us About Finding Peace in Spiritual Winter
God’s Word at Work Beneath the Surface
Isaiah writes:
"As the rain and the snow come down from heaven,
and do not return there but water the earth,
making it bring forth and sprout,
giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,
so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty…” (Isaiah 55:10–11)
Rain and snow don’t ask our permission. They don’t check our schedules, our preparedness, or whether we remembered to bring in the last load of laundry which, for the record, is probably still frozen on the line.
They simply fall—right on time—and do what they were made to do.
So does the Word of God.
Winter Slowness as a Spiritual Invitation
On the homestead, winter often feels like a pause button. Everything slows. The compost pile huddles under its crust of ice. The garden lays still, except for the carrots we forgot to dig up—I’m sure the rabbits are grateful.
If winter tends to sit a little heavier on your heart, I’ve shared more encouragement in my post about seasonal affective disorder and how I navigate the darker months.
But spiritually? Winter isn’t a pause at all—it’s an invitation.
Isaiah reminds us that God’s Word is always at work, even when the ground appears frozen and unresponsive. The snow that looks like an inconvenience to my driveway is actually insulating the soil, feeding it, preparing it quietly for spring.
Spiritual winters work the same way.
There are seasons when I feel more like hard-packed dirt than “good soil.” Seasons when my prayers sound like they’re bouncing off the ceiling. Seasons when fruit feels scarce.
But God says His Word never returns empty.
Not in my growing seasons, and not in my snow-covered ones.
He is doing something beneath the surface—even if I don’t see it yet.
Replacing Thorns With Joy:
God’s Promise in Isaiah 55:12–13
There’s a quiet truth that comes to mind here, one that settles gently into this passage:
“Oh Lamb of God, I come… just as I am.”
Not as I wish I were.
Not as the more mature Christian I hope to grow into by spring.
Just as I am in the middle of winter—with my mismatched expectations and my half-frozen garden beds.
On the homestead, we plant in faith. We cover fragile things with mulch and old leaves, trusting God to bring life where we can’t. Spiritually, He invites us to come to Him just the same way: as tender, imperfect seedlings He promises to nurture.
What grace there is in a God who doesn’t demand full bloom before welcoming us.
The Joy Set Before Us and the Thorns Along the Way
Finding Peace in Your Own Spiritual Winter
Isaiah paints a picture of what happens when we finally see the fruit of God’s quiet winter work:
“For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills before you shall break forth into singing…” (v.12)
The same God who uses snow to nourish dormant soil uses our winters to prepare joy. Peace. Renewal. Growth. New roots forming where none existed.
And then Isaiah ends the chapter with this:
“Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress,
and instead of brier shall come up the myrtle,
and it shall make a name for the Lord...” (v.13)
I don’t know about you, but I grow enough thorns in my heart without any help. Anxiety. Self-doubt. Exhaustion. That nagging feeling that I should be doing more, being more, producing more.
But God says He is in the business of holy replacement.
Thorns for evergreens.
Briers for myrtles.
Weariness for joy.
Winter for spring.
Not because I’m capable—but because He is faithful.
Waiting for Spring… With Hope
So as we head into another long winter—one filled with snow boots that won’t stay dry, seed catalogs I’ll dog-ear with unreasonable optimism, and a garden that looks like it packed its bags and left—I’m choosing to remember:
God is still working.
- In my soil.
- In my soul.
- In the quiet.
- In the cold.
- In the places I think are too barren to ever bloom again.
His Word will not return empty.
Not in the homestead.
Not in my heart.
A Little Prayer for the Season Ahead
Lord, thank You that Your Word is always at work, even when my life feels like winter. Teach me to rest, trust, and receive. Replace my thorns with Your joy and my weariness with Your peace. And when spring comes, help me recognize the miracles You planted long before I saw them.
If this devotional met you in your own spiritual winter, I’d love to walk through the season with you. Subscribe below so you never miss a new post, and join this little community of women learning to slow down, breathe deeper, and notice the quiet work God is doing in our everyday lives.
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