Until this year, I’ve been the opposite of a morning person. Getting up before sunrise sounded like torture. When I could, I still kept the schedule of a 19-year-old student on summer break, sleeping in as late as possible and staying up until the wee hours. But now that I have to take my son to school every morning, my schedule has shifted a few hours earlier, and I’m discovering the joys of the early morning.
As we arrived at school on Monday, the newly-risen sun gilded the edges of a cloud for a moment, beams of its glory spreading across the sky. Bands of pink and mauve still lay low across the horizon. It was a moment that I longed to capture with a photo, but I know it wouldn’t have done justice to the magic and beauty I saw.
After we rewatched The Lord of the Rings a few weeks ago, our son has been listening to the soundtrack nonstop, requesting it on every drive to school. On Monday, the music that happened to be on as the sun put on its glorious show was The Battle of Pelennor Fields.
I’m always gripped by this scene—the bravery, the soundtrack, the sunrise. But sharing the beauty of it with Blaise, and seeing him embrace the music from this scene as one of his own favorites, has increased my enjoyment.
My husband and I talk about this scene all the time, both as Peter Jackson directed it in the 2003 movie and as J. R. R. Tolkien originally wrote it. Neither of us thought any movie could do justice to Tolkien’s magisterial prose, but Jackson comes close. Read this selection from Return of the King and try not to get chills at the last few lines:
In rode the Lord of the Nazgûl. A great black shape against the fires beyond he loomed up, grown to a vast menace of despair. In rode the Lord of the Nazgûl, under the archway that no enemy ever yet had passed, and all fled before his face.
All save one. There waiting, silent and still in the space before the Gate, sat Gandalf upon Shadowfax: Shadowfax who alone among the free horses of the earth endured the terror, unmoving, steadfast as a graven image in Rath Dínen.
"You cannot enter here," said Gandalf, and the huge shadow halted. "Go back to the abyss prepared for you! Go back! Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your Master. Go!"
The Black Rider flung back his hood, and behold! he had a kingly crown; and yet upon no head visible was it set. The red fires shone between it and the mantled shoulders vast and dark. From a mouth unseen there came a deadly laughter.
"Old fool!" he said. "Old fool! This is my hour. Do you not know Death when you see it? Die now and curse in vain!" And with that he lifted high his sword and flames ran down the blade.
And in that very moment, away behind in some courtyard of the city, a cock crowed. Shrill and clear he crowed, recking nothing of war nor of wizardry, welcoming only the morning that in the sky far above the shadows of death was coming with the dawn.
And as if in answer there came from far away another note. Horns, horns, horns, in dark Mindolluin's sides they dimly echoed. Great horns of the north wildly blowing. Rohan had come at last.
The riders of Rohan’s army know they ride, most likely, to their deaths. All they can hope to do is buy a little time for the armies of Gondor to better defend themselves. Their king, Theoden, reminds them of this in his speech, and in their battle cry. As they charge forward to roars of “Death!” the beauty of their sacrifice is clear. They are laying down their lives—not, for the most part, for their friends, as Gondor never helped Rohan in their times of need—but for their fellow humans, because it is the right thing to do.
(a transcript for the dialogue is available if you click the down arrow just under and to the right of the video)
I don’t enjoy movies that glorify war. War is horrible. It’s destructive. Atrocities are often committed in the name of the cause. Sometimes, though, the cause is purely righteous. Not often in our own world, but occasionally in a book or movie, an artist will portray a force so wretchedly evil that the righteous must fight it. Though fictional, scenes like the Battle of Pelennor Fields can stir our hearts to act with the same courage as that which Eowyn encourages Merry to have: “Courage, Merry. Courage for our friends.” Our courage in the face of danger should always be for the sake of others.
It’s no wonder that dawn has captured the imaginations of so many artists. Just when all seems hopeless, darkest, most miserable, a thin band of light appears, and hope is kindled once again.
(Ken Bushe, “Sunrise Through Mist,” accessed here)
Similarly, the coming of dawn shines through a number of my favorite songs. The beginning of Andrew Peterson’s “All Things New” has been my alarm tone for the past eleven years, and every morning, it gives me hope.
The bridge and the chorus hold my favorite lines:
The world was good, the world is fallen,
The world will be redeemed,
The world was good, the world is fallen,
The world will be redeemed,So hold on to the promise.
The stories are true that Jesus makes all things new.Rise up, oh you sleeper, awake, (Rise up, oh you sleeper.)
The light of the dawn is upon you.
Rise up, oh you sleeper, awake, (Rise up, oh you sleeper.)
He makes all things new.
In the battle scene above, the orcs shrank back from the sunrise and the bravery of the charging Rohirrim as all evil shrinks away from the Light of goodness. For some, this call—“The Dawn is upon you!”—will be one of terror. Those unwilling to let the terrible light of truth and beauty do its piercing, fiery work will cower, afraid that their evil works will be exposed.
But for some, the coming of the Dawn is a rescue, the fulfillment of their most desperate hope. Evil will be uncovered and brought to justice. Tears, pain, and even minor frustrations will be wiped away.
As Aslan says to the Friends of Narnia at the end of The Last Battle,
The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning.
I featured Behold, Behold by Caroline Cobb in one of my earliest newsletters, almost two years ago, but I can’t help sharing it again. She captures the hope of the New Jerusalem in Revelation 21 so clearly:
I see a city coming down,
Like a bride in whitest gown,
Purely dressed
I see the pilgrims coming home
All creation finds shalom;
The promised restThe Lamb of God will be her light
The sun will have no need to shineBehold, behold
God makes His home with us!
He’ll take his throne, forever glorious!
The curse will be undone!
O come lord, Jesus comeThe Lord will banish every sin
All that's broken He will mend;
And make newAnd we will see Him face to face
As He wipes our tears away;
Death is throughAnd all the ransomed and redeemed
From every tongue and tribe will singBehold, behold
God makes His home with us!
He’ll take his throne, forever glorious!
The curse will be undone!
O come lord, Jesus comeAt last the darkness
Will surrender to the light
But we unveiled in glory will forever shineAt last the powers of hell
Will drown in lakes of fire
But we will freely drink
The crystal streams of life
Come thirsty taste and see
Come hungry to the feast
Come weary find your peace
The Bride and Spirit sing
Come! Come!Behold, behold
God makes His home with us
He’ll take his throne, forever glorious!
Behold, behold
God makes His home with us
He’ll take his throne, forever glorious!
The curse will be undone
Oh come, Lord Jesus, come
Each dawn, no matter how shadowed, is a promise of the true Dawn that will one day come. The Son of God, the source of all light and goodness, will descend and scatter the night forever.
Until then, let us be the dawn for each other, shining light in dark places, offering hope in the promise of that great Morning to come.
Walk through life with wonder 🌅
Sarah
P. S. Stay tuned for a small update later this week on what I’ve been working on. Hint—it’s a book proposal!