The Word in the Wings
The Word in the Wings > Second Chances & New Beginnings – At Dawn
Walk This Road, Second Chances & New Beginnings - At Dawn
By: Audrey Hammitt
Growing up, I looked up to my two older brothers and longed to do many of the exciting things they did through their youth. One of these activities was climbing the tree in our front yard in Upstate New York. There was a particular thick branch that started several of their climbing pathways, and I had looked forward to one day following in their footsteps (more like footholds) on this tree when I got big and strong enough. When I was 8, my dad’s job was relocating our family to Virginia, and time was growing short in our familiar stomping grounds. Weeks before our move date, Buffalo experienced an unseasonal snowstorm. Because it was an early snowfall, even for where we lived, the trees still had leaves on them, which in turn collected the snow as it fell. The limbs soon started breaking under the weight of the snow-laden leaves, sending sharp sounds like gunshots through the winter air. We weathered the storm, despite a few days without power, and our climbing tree still stood, except the climbing branch had been damaged. After the worst of the storm had subsided and clean up had commenced in the neighborhood, our uncle came by with his chainsaw to help cut any broken branches of trees in our yard. Before long, to my sudden despair, his saw sliced through that favored limb that held so many memories and hopes. Although we were moving in a few weeks’ time, and I wouldn’t have been able to try my hand at climbing anyway, the amputation was significant in what it represented and served as a stark cut-off of my time in my first childhood home.
While this anecdote about a childish loss and the dashed hopes of an 8 year old girl pales in comparison to the emotions Jesus’ followers experienced after His crucifixion, I believe there are shreds of similarities between them. Similar to how I had watched my brothers climb our tree, the disciples had watched and sought to model all that Jesus did during His ministry. Just like I had hoped to one day climb the tree, I can imagine Jesus’ friends hoped for many more years to walk alongside Him on this earth. In both instances, there came a point where the only way forward was through death–cutting off the wounded branch to preserve the life of the whole tree in my story, or Jesus taking on the sin of the world and dying on a tree to rescue our lives in the gospel story. Like the severe sawing of a favorite tree, Jesus’ loved ones’ hearts were sawed in two. A void replaced what once was filled with comfort and security. There was no going back, no chance to reattach the branch or resuscitate the Rabbi.
In Walk This Road, the pieces representing these moments after Jesus’ death showcase the wide range of emotions Jesus’ friends felt in the aftermath of the darkest day in history. The intense expressions of anger, despair, and brokenness in “Underground” fades into a numb ache in “Sounds of Silence,” representing Holy Saturday, when it seemed all was utterly lost with no hope for the future. However, if the disciples had recalled Jesus’ words (See Matt. 16:21-23, Mark 8:31-33, and Luke 9:22) they might have realized the night of grief wouldn’t last forever, and soon the bright light of Day would rise from the horizon.
"...imagine a misty morning setting"
The sunrise of this new day is embodied in one of the new pieces to this year’s rendition of Walk This Road, called “At Dawn.” This piece proceeds directly from “Sounds of Silence,” and represents the events and experiences of the dawn Jesus rose from the tomb. The other dancers and I have imagined a misty morning setting and a soft grayish lavender color to represent the tone. Biblically, Mark describes this morning as follows: “When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, ‘Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?’” (Mark 16:1-3). There is a sense of mystery and questioning in the air, and I envision Jesus smiling that the secret of His resurrection would soon be discovered. Just as the night’s sky grows lighter almost imperceptibly at first, so, too, do hope and joy often creep into our hearts. In this dance, looking in different directions and the contrasting movement qualities of stretching and staccato evoke a feeling of wonder and depict the journey from disbelief to belief.
Much like the arrival of day, new growth can begin in quiet and surprising ways. An early foreshadow of Jesus’ reign and resurrection is in Isaiah’s prophecy:
“A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse,
and a branch shall grow out of his roots.
The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him,
the spirit of wisdom and understanding,
the spirit of counsel and might,
the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.
His delight shall be in the fear of the Lord.
He shall not judge by what his eyes see
or decide by what his ears hear,
but with righteousness he shall judge for the poor
and decide with equity for the oppressed of the earth;
he shall strike the earth with the rod of his mouth,
and with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked.
Righteousness shall be the belt around his waist
and faithfulness the belt around his loins” (Isaiah 11:1-5).
"our father is always with us"
Notice how the line says that he will never let us go. God gives us this promise through Moses in Deuteronomy 31:6 (ESV) who declares that “It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you.” Even when we feel that we aren’t good enough – or that we need to constantly do better – God is still holding our hands. Our Father is always with us.
In God’s plan for His people, Jesus is this new branch, or in John 15, He is the True Vine, in which all people can have life. Like the verdant leaves currently sprouting on the trees this spring, new life can sprout from barren trunks or branches. What we think is the end is never the true end, but may be the beginning of something that couldn’t have existed before. What stumps are in your life? What area of your life feels like an endless night? I pray this post, “At Dawn,” and all of Walk This Road encourage your heart to hold onto hope, because our Hope is alive!
As I thought about this blog post, I came across this tree, which I think speaks for itself:
