The ancient secret to beating the back-to-work blues

I got my hair cut the afternoon after stepping off the plane home, following a much-anticipated holiday. I dread to think what my facial expression must have been, but the hairdresser politely enquired: "Suffering from post-holiday blues?"

School's back, summer is in death throes and the routine has kicked in again. While some – parents of bored children in particular – relish the start of the new term, for many the end of the holiday season indicates an impossible escalation in workload and not a lot to look forward to. So what will keep us going through the darkening days that stretch out for months before we get a glimmer of Christmas lights? Can some of that sunshine and carefree summer holiday spirit be woven into the hectic and the humdrum?

Pace Yourself

There's so much discussion of 'rhythm' in some Christian circles that someone outside the subculture would be forgiven for thinking we're obsessed with menstruation. But it seems we need regular reminders to follow the order ordained by God in creation; established in the Jewish calendar of festivals; upheld by Jesus himself. When do you pause for a breather in the day, in the week, in the month? How can rest be intertwined with day-to-day life, so that you're not going blue in the face, holding your breath for several weeks, in desperation for the next gasp of free time? A holiday-in-miniature every day – even a few minutes with a cup of tea and a favourite song – will go some way to restoring the soul. (NB this may need to be diarised).

But the principle of the Sabbath is, of course, about more than just treating ourselves – or even a survival tactic. It's a chance to be reminded that God values us for who we are, not what we achieve.

One morning on holiday, I awoke early and crept outside into the dawn. Slung in a hammock with a book in the cool quietness, I noticed a magnificent striped bird (apparently a yellow-crowned night heron) silently exploring the garden, one beady eye on me. I know nothing about ornithology. I just watched. And breathed. And in the stillness and the purposeless, total absorption of that one thing, I felt utterly attuned to the presence of God.

If we have a jam-packed autumn (ahem), then who is driving that agenda? Where does that motive to crush more and more into a kaleidoscopic Google calendar come from? What is it that God has really required of us?

Holidays – and the Sabbath – give us space to recall that our lives have intrinsic, not instrumental, worth. We are part of the creation, which God delights in, just for its very existence. So our busy schedules should never seem so important to us that we can't step into a deliberate, regular rhythm of both pausing and playing.

Keep Perspective

Having stressed that our daily grind is Not That Important, what I really mean is that it doesn't confer our value on us. Actually each of our little tasks, carried out for the glory of God, is a precious form of worship.

In the story of the great catch of fish in Luke 5:1-11, before calling him to a new role, Jesus shows Peter that he can fulfill what Peter cannot. Jesus has the nets squirming with fish almost to bursting, as if to say: 'See? I've got you covered. Now come and work with me.' In my own life, I need to remember that the fish have already filled the boat. We don't need to keep trying to catch that slippery fish of approval in our work, straining for achievement, under pressure for an impressive haul. Instead, we can walk light-heartedly with Jesus into his good purposes, because there's nothing that's beyond him.

So it's not just establishing regular times for rest and recreation between holidays that will keep us going, but also approaching our work wide-eyed and expectant, just like holidaymakers in a foreign land. How ever humdrum our work – whether you're a librarian, shop assistant, carer, programmer, fire fighter or a fisherman – we are cherished co-workers with God in the re-creation of his world. And, fellow-travellers, anything could happen.

Alexandra Lilley is a curate in the East End of London.