Sunrise, Nichole Nordeman
If I had the chance
To go back again
Take a different road,
bear a lighter load
Tell an easy story
I would walk away
With my yesterdays
And I would not trade
what is broken for beauty only
Every valley
Every bitter chill
Made me ready
to climb back up the hill
And find that…
You are sunrise
You are blue skies
How would I know the Morning
If I knew not midnight?
You’re my horizon
You’re the Light of a new dawn
So thank You, thank You
That after the long night,
You are sunrise
There’s a moment when
Faith caves in
There’s a time when
every soul is certain God is gone
But every shadow is evidence of sun
And every tomorrow holds out hope for us
For every one of us
You are sunrise
You are blue skies
How would I know the Morning
If I knew not midnight?
You’re my horizon
You’re the Light of a new dawn
So thank You, thank You
That after the long night,
You are sunrise
You alone will shine
You alone can resurrect this heart of mine
You are sunrise
You are blue skies
How would I know the Morning
If I knew not midnight?
You’re my horizon
You’re the Light of a new dawn
So thank You, thank You
That after the long night,
You are sunrise
You are sunrise
It’s been a while since I worked on this particular series, but listening to the music again and having a moment after changed doctor’s appoinments and lunches gave me a chance to be still and chew on the lyrics again.
Let me start by giving you some scriptural references that give us the biblical basis for Nichole’s assertions that God is sunrise. There’s a lot here, and I didn’t get them all, so feel free to do your own searches.
Ezra 9:8 Psalm 18:28 Psalm 118:27 Isaiah 60:19 1 Corinthians 4:5
2 Corinthians 4:6 1 Peter 2:9 1 John 1:5 Revelation 21:23 Revelation 22:5
John 8:12 John 12:35 John 12:36 1 John 1:7
I find myself really identifying with these lyrics. I’ve said one version or another of them at different times in my life, even written poetry with these ideas swirling at the foundation. This idea of what we would do differently if we could go back and do it over again often forgets the essential nature of an experiential life; we learn by doing. We gain strength by surviving. We grow through adversity. The abuse I grew up with, the physical beatings, the verbal lashings, the rape and seduction of my innocence, the emotional uncertainties… every bit of it, it was horrible, and no, I wouldn’t wish my past on anyone. I wouldn’t recommend my upbringing to anyone, and I would (and do) report any adult I saw repeating on a child the things that were done to me. Every time, I would stand up and fight for the defense of the child. Please don’t think for a moment that I would ever advocate that child abuse is necessary or acceptable. It is a repellent stain on humanity.
That said, if I had a chance to go back in time and magically prevent what had happened to me, to undo the abuse before it happened, I wouldn’t. I am the woman I am today because I survived that. My faith blossomed in ways I can’t imagine it would have without the struggles I faced.
I’m not saying that the only way to have a deep faith in God is to have a traumatic upbringing or horrifying event in your life. As my sweet mother would say, I don’t have to become an alcoholic to be as aware of my need for grace and reliance on God as the alcoholic walking the path to recovery. God is mighty and wonderful and beyond our imagining; His grace is as individual to each of us as we are to Him.
What I do mean to say is that faith is tested and proven in the fires of trial and adversity. When it seems there is no reason to hope, no joy to cling to, no future to long for, no external reason to have faith that there is more than the darkness that surrounds us, life is bleak and frightening. But when you are able to see just the faintest glimmer of the coming dawn, when you can reason with yourself that now is not forever, and better will come in time, when you can cling to faith when there’s no obvious reason to do so, then the faith that emerges will be stronger for the trials. In a very real way, our faith is like gold, which must be melted and destroyed in fire in order to remove the impurities and be shaped into its final form. It is like steel, which must be tempered with heat to strengthen it, make it harder and less brittle. It is like clay which must be molded and shaped in the hands of a master craftsman to be useful.
Let’s say for a moment that you’ve lead a privileged life. You never wanted for anything, you never knew what it was to go without. There was never any doubt that you were dearly loved. Life was a cakewalk. You enjoy sunrise, but you never doubted it would come. You have the sort of precious faith that was poured into you by your family and loved ones, that is as much a part of who you are as your own name, your very being. Now try to imagine what it is like for someone who didn’t have that remarkable privilege. Think of a child from a third world country, for whom peanut butter is a luxury rarely afforded. You get tired of the everydayness of peanut butter and jelly sandwich; imagine the poor child, half naked, and delighting in the first peanut butter and jelly sandwich he’s ever had. Give him a burger and fries and look at how stunned he is at the meat… and how ordinary it is to you. Imagine, beloved, that your faith in God is like the food we eat. Sometimes, it’s so easy that it’s easy to take for granted. But when each meal is remarkable, how sweet it tastes, how satisfying it can be! Now go back to our person who has had enough all his days. Suddenly, life changes, and he finds himself hungry, cold, lost and alone. What a shock! What in life has ever prepared him for less than enough? Maybe his family told him what to expect, maybe they raised him with respect for the frailty of life. But the other child, the one who’s known nothing but want all his life? When everything is yanked from him, he’s grown accustomed to the possibility. He’s stronger, harder, not because his lifestyle is good or ideal, but because the only choice he’s ever had was cling to uncertain hope and survive, or give up in despair and succumb to the overwhelming loss and death.
I’m married to a man who is the first, who had a stable, loving home with stable, loving parents. He didn’t have everything he wanted all the time, but his parents made sure he always had what he needed. His faith is no weaker than mine, no less valid than mine. I’m not saying that at all. The trials he faced built him in ways I can’t understand. But in many ways, I’m the second (though I’ve never gone hungry). There were literally days I didn’t know if I’d wake up in the morning, days when I wasn’t sure not waking up would be such a bad thing. But being carried by my faith in Christ meant that when the rug was pulled from beneath my feet (when my father, the one person I thought really “got” me, died when I was 16), I already had in place the faith I needed to carry me through the darkness of grief to the dawn of my life after his death. Because of the way I suffered as a child, I had hope to cling to that, this, too, was survivable. Oh, beloved, there were dark days, darker nights, suicide attempts and heartbreak before and after I lost my Dad, but every night has been faithfully followed with sunlight and hope. Every time I’ve lost all hope, the sun rose in the morning and renewed me.
I guess what I’m trying to say is simply this: When all seems hopeless, in the darkness so bleak you can’t see tomorrow… you’re not alone, you’ve never been alone. I was there before you, and there are times I stumble back into the disheartening darkness. But there is hope, there is a reason to continue. After we’ve been tested and tried, beloved, we stand taller in the coming dawn in the love of Christ who died and was resurrected to bring us to Him. I’ve been where you are, and I stand in the light of a new day, proof that there is a tomorrow. There is worth in our sufferings because we are stronger for them.
Thank You, God, for the long dark night of the soul that showed me how desperately I needed you just to survive. Thank You for the adversity that tested me, tried me, and gave me the strength to survive and testify to Your provision on the other side. Thank You, God, for being my hope when I had none other. Thank You, God. You truly are sunrise.
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