Day 75 - Before the Sun Rises

Did you know that today is International Dawn Chorus Day? A global celebration held on the first Sunday in May, inviting people to rise early and listen to the extraordinary symphony of birdsong that fills the air at daybreak. It began in the UK in the 1980s, started by environmentalist Chris Baines, and has grown into a worldwide event encouraging people to appreciate nature and support bird conservation.

The dawn chorus reaches its peak in early May, when resident birds and newly returned migrants join together in a layered, rising swell of sound. Birds sing at dawn because the still, quiet air carries their song further — up to 20 times further than later in the day.

The dawn chorus feels to me like a resurrection moment. The Gospels tell us that the women came to the tomb “very early in the morning, while it was still dark” (John 20:1). Resurrection didn’t wait for daylight. Hope broke open in the half light, when the world still looked unchanged. The first Easter faith was born not in blazing certainty but in the quiet, uncertain edge of dawn.

International Dawn Chorus Day invites us to stand in that same threshold moment. Birds sing before they can see clearly. They trust the coming of the light. And in this season between Easter and Pentecost, we find ourselves in a similar place — living in the “already but not yet,” where Christ is risen, but the fullness of His new creation is still dawning.

The disciples knew this waiting well. For forty days the risen Jesus walked with them, teaching, comforting, restoring. Then came the Ascension — and with it, a promise: “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you” (Acts 1:8). But the promise did not arrive immediately. Ten long days stretched between Ascension and Pentecost. Days of prayer. Days of uncertainty. Days of trusting what they could not yet see.

Like the birds who sing in the dimness, the disciples learned to praise in the half light.

And then Pentecost came — not as a single voice, but as a chorus. Many languages, one message. Many people, one Spirit. Many hearts, one fire. The dawn chorus of creation becomes a beautiful picture of the Church’s birth: diverse voices lifted into a shared song of hope.

Perhaps this is our calling in these weeks between Easter and Pentecost:

To be people who sing before the sun rises.

People who trust the promise even when the world still feels shadowed.

People who add our small, faithful notes to the great chorus of God’s renewing work.

When we witness the early morning stillness and hear that first bird break the silence, we are reminded that resurrection is not a one day event but a rising rhythm woven into creation itself. And when the chorus swells, we hear an echo of Pentecost — the Spirit drawing many voices into harmony, awakening the world with the sound of new life.

May we, too, become dawn singers: witnesses for the risen Christ, waiting with hope, ready for the Spirit’s song to rise in us.

Debbie Wilson