Morning Song

There are some lyrics from a song that stuck with me for the last few days.  They go like this:

Morning run on the back roads of PA

...Melodies like morning rise, darkness leaning toward the dawn. Into our sorrow sings the light; beautiful redemption song.  

Weeping will not last the night, nor will sorrow be for long. Joy was born of sacrifice; beautiful redemption song...

These words are from a song, written by Sara Hart,  entitled "Redemption Song".  It speaks of God's overwhelming love for us and the wonders of redemption that God's Son has brought us.

Setting the theology of the song aside for a moment, these stanzas echo with me today, on Mother's Day. My mother left this world in October of 2020 so this is a day of great emotion and introspection for me.  As I played this song at church, these particular lines connected music and the experience of sunrise in a way that made sense.

The transition from darkness to light at the start of a new day is transformative.  This is one of the reasons running at dawn is such an important part of my routine.  For me, the sunrise marks a transition from a time of inactive worry and anxiety to a time of activity and hopefulness; from a time of passive acceptance of the way things are to a time where there is a hope of being able to assert some measure of control.

In addition to my running discipline, I am a musician, though perhaps less disciplined in this.  I often use music as a metaphor for things that can be sensed but not grasped.  So the connection between the feelings I have at dawn and music is interesting to me.  I love the image of a song rising into the morning as the darkness recedes.  The idea of music lifting our spirits and penetrating our sorrow just as light overcomes the darkness is beautiful.  I have challenged myself to summon the same inner peace I often get during my sunrise run, when I play music, to bring into my melodies that transformative feeling that accompanies witnessing the dawn of a new day.    

Joy being born of sacrifice connects for me with something told to me many years ago, and I often repeat, "Be thankful for the darkness of night, for without it, there can be no dawn."

There is much darkness and sorrow these days.  Days upon days of what seems to be an endless struggle.  The pandemic has changed things so dramatically. Otherwise normal people have made simple health measures like wearing a mask into symbols of political posturing.  The war in Ukraine threatens to expand and the impact of all of this on the economy creates more worry about things that cannot be managed.  Our illusion of control over our lives has been shattered.  Much of the violence and turmoil in our nation seems to be rooted in people trying to reassert control that they perceive they once had but is now lost.  

When will this night end? How can this result in joy?  It is when these thoughts are attacking me, that I find running at dawn redemptive.  It reminds me that dawn will arrive, on its schedule.  There is nothing I can do to encourage or delay it.  Acknowledging this limitation chases away the demons.   Is sacrificing this illusion all that is required to find joy?

It is a beautiful redemption song...