In our house we call them “the Sunday night downs,” those gloomy feelings that occur in the space of time between the weekend and Monday morning. No one knows exactly where they come from or where they return to, but they’re as reliable and inexplicable as the wind.

As a Christian commanded to make the most of each day, I know not to live for the weekend, but it feels nearly impossible not to. I excitedly sign our Friday emails with TGIF and shout “Have a great weekend!” to anyone in sight, like I’m bestowing birthday blessings. But on Sunday, when that long hoped for event is winding to a close and the credits about to roll, the emotion descends like rain on an outdoor wedding.

Monday again. Starting over. No sleeping in. No languid afternoon spent puttering around the yard. No evening pizza and movie. The discouragement can be as keen as locking up the beach rental and starting the twelve-hour drive back home. 

Some of us are better at stuffing down emotions than others. We feel them, ignore them, but still allow them to subliminally rule our behavior. We can be quick-temperated or impatient without trying to understand why. Others of us embrace emotions like hypochondriacs, relishing our ability to name each one. I’m feeling moody today. I’m feeling snarky. Don’t cross me!

Emotions are essential. They’re indicators of what’s happening inside of us and around us. But they’re not sources of immutable truth. Rather, they’re usually as hit or miss as a check engine light. The danger lies at either end of the spectrum—taking them too seriously or not seriously enough.

Recently I had a case of the Sunday night downs. I felt frustrated, restless, impatient, and unhappy. Infuriatingly enough, I couldn’t point to a single reason WHY I really felt that way. I had two choices: continue to allow my emotions to inform the way I was treating my husband (Grouchy! Critical! Ungrateful!) or acknowledge them and give them up to my Creator. Shutting my bedroom door, I pulled out a journal and wrote a list of all the things I was feeling—distant from my family, frustrated with a lack of time, exhausted by interrupted nightly sleep, lonely for friendship, etc.

As I stared over my list, I felt there were three options. I prayed something similar to the Serenity Prayer: 

• Lord, show me which emotions should lead me to repentance. 
• Which emotions I can do something about.
• Which emotions I can’t change and should place into your hands. Over and over again. As many times as it takes.

I left the room after praying, feeling pretty good about myself, and immediately got into an argument with Tommy. 

“It’s time for you to get out of the house,” he said.

“No,” I replied.

“Go.”

“I’m fine!”

Eventually, he won. I drove to a coffee shop and wrote for an hour by myself. Afterwards we met at the lake and took a walk. There was something about light turning lake water into bejeweled silk. Or warm, sticky air washing over me. Perhaps it was my feet being on the move. Something made me feel alive and immensely better. Sunday night downs dispelled. 

Sundays are hardly the only time when we need to face our emotions head on and pray about them. For me, it’s a daily, hourly, moment-by-moment reality when I come face to face with feelings that seem outside of my control.

It means a constant, ever-rolling prayer of, “Lord, show me which of these feelings are true and right. Which ones are indicators of my own sin. Which ones I can’t change and need to surrender. Help me to submit them all to you.” I love the verses in Psalm 62 that tell us, “For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him.” And also, “Pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us.” 

So next time I’m tempted to say, “I feel this way; therefore, I’m allowed to behave this way,” I want to endeavor to face my emotions head on. 

If I’m angry, do I need to repent?

If I’m bored, do I need to get off my phone and work with my hands?

If I’m hurt or bitter, do I need to give it to God and call up a good friend? 

Pour out your heart before him and remind your soul, “Hey, you, wait in silence. My hope is from him.” 

~

“For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him.

He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken.

On God rests my salvation and my glory; my mighty rock, my refuge is God.

Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him;

God is a refuge for us.

– Psalm 62:5-8