When the Sourdough Rests Unseen | A Reflection of Psalm 27

There’s a moment in every batch of sourdough where nothing seems to be happening. The bowl is covered. The dough is still. You can’t see the rise yet. From the outside it looks quiet almost too quiet.

But inside, the whole structure is changing.

I keep thinking about that hidden rise when I read Psalm 27 “Wait for the Lord. Be strong and let your heart take courage. Wait for the Lord.”

Waiting is never passive. It’s a kind of interior becoming. God works in the quiet places of our lives long before we notice anything on the surface.

This is why I love the rest phase of sourdough. It teaches me to step back, unclench, and let time do what force never will. It’s the part of the process where I’m reminded that transformation doesn’t always look productive. Sometimes the most important growth happens when I’m not touching anything at all.

Maybe you’re in a season like that right now. Life feels still. Change feels slow. Faith feels quiet. You’re showing up, but you don’t see anything rising yet.

God doesn’t rush the work He’s doing in you. He isn’t frustrated by your pace. He isn’t disappointed by your silence. He knows exactly what needs to form beneath the surface before the next step makes sense.

Sourdough rests because it must. Our souls do too.

When I lift the cloth and see the dough finally domed and airy, it feels like a small reminder. Nothing was wasted. Nothing was stuck. Something was happening the whole time.

So today, let your heart breathe. Let the quiet be the quiet. Trust the hidden work. God is shaping you even when you can’t measure it.

A small invitation for the week. Take one moment today no striving, no forcing, no fixing. Rest your hands. Slow your breath. Whisper Psalm 27 back to God. Let Him do what only He can do in the places you can’t see yet.