#caleb chapman

I’ve been waiting for the sun To come blazing up out of the night like a bullet from a gun ’Til every shadow is scattered every dragon’s on the run I believe, I believe that the light is gonna come And this is the dark, this is the dark before the dawn

I’ve been waiting for some peace To come raining down out of the heavens on these war-torn fields All creation is aching for the sons of God to be revealed I believe, I believe that the victory is sealed The serpent struck, but it was crushed beneath his heel

It’s the old, old story; the one that bears repeating; The one we need to hear over and over again. Of the love of God, reaching out to sinful man, through the Son who will one day crush the Serpent, once and for all. I’m still amazed every time I hear the story — the good news. 

The song is set to a steady beat, and as the last verse ends, the beat is accented by the beautiful sound of a hammered dulcimer. But just as the song seems to come to a close, Andrew sings:

I had a dream that I was waking at the burning edge of dawn And I could see the fields of glory, I could hear the Sower’s song...

This is the theme of the album. Each of the songs, trying to catch a glimpse of that dawn. Seeing the ways in which Christ is working, growing his kingdom in the hearts of men — slowly but ever so surely — even as the darkness seems to grow. How someday, there will be a consummation of light and beauty. Andrew starts where he left off on Light for the Lost Boy, but with a renewed fervor, a renewed hope.

The sound of The Burning Edge of Dawn is a bit tricky to describe. It could be called layered folk, or maybe enlightened pop, maybe both, maybe neither — it’s hard to put a finger on. It’s somewhere in the vein of Lost Boy and more so of Lost Boy’s B-side, “Break it All Away” in which Andrew really pushes on his sonic boundaries. I hear a lot of that same experimentation happening here, and it colors the songs so well! It’s mellower than Lost Boy, but somehow carries more energy. Maybe it’s joy...

The Burning Edge of Dawn features some gifted artists. Ben Shive, Andy Gullahorn and Jill Phillips, as well as Caleb Chapman of Colony House and Ellie Holcomb, all make appearances on the record.

“Every Star Is a Burning Flame” is a cool song. It’s a journey from a starry hill in Idaho, to a garden in Tennessee, to the far reaches of space and then back to earth again. It’s quite a journey musically as well. It begins with a simple piano progression, but gets groovy when a syncopated snare beat, an arpeggio guitar lead and ethereal falsetto vocals are added into the mix.

The words of the song bear a simple truth: God’s glory can be seen in all of creation. In the farthest star or on the face of a passer-by. In spite of the weight of the curse on creation, the weight of God’s glory still shines through. 

There seems to be a connection between these songs and songs from Light for the Lost Boy. The guitar riff on “We Will Survive” hearkens back to “Rest Easy,” a song Andrew Peterson wrote for his wife Jamie, reminding her of the unconditional love of God. Now, in “We Will Survive” he sings:

Tell me the story I still need to hear Tell me we're gonna make it out alive again I need to know there's nothing left to fear There's nothing left to hide So will you look me in the eye And say we will survive

I feel that connection to Lost Boy in other songs as well; “My One Safe Place” is also about the love and companionship of his wife:

You are a fortress I am under siege You’re a light in the forest I am a lost boy out in the trees

So I run away home  Yes, I run away home to you

The words of this song brought to my mind his struggle with darkness and doubt in “Shine Your Light On Me.” It seems now, that the lost boy is finding his way home...

I think [Light for the Lost Boy] might be the most hopeful record I’ve ever made, by virtue of the despair that haunts the edges of it. The Burning Edge of Dawn is about hope, too, but it’s also about something else: joy. That little kid on the cover of the last album survived the night and stepped out of the forest at the moment the sun finally broke the horizon. From where he’s standing he can still see the shadowy trees behind him, still remember how afraid he was. He knows he has a long way to go, but he can’t deny the beautiful truth that the sun always rises. The light always wins, sooner or later. — Andrew Peterson

Gabe Scott produced the album and has done an excellent job. He and Andrew Peterson have worked a lot together in the past, but this is the first time for him to be in the producer’s chair for one of Andrew’s albums (though he has produced for other artists before). Gabe Scott has offered a unique approach to the production of these songs — a sonic palette that adds a freshness to the whole album.

“The Rain Keeps Falling” is about a season in life that feels like gray clouds and a steady rain; the kind of rain that falls for days, weeks, months. A heaviness that you want to shake off, but you can’t. And the music fits the lyrics. It’s definitely a dark song; the darkest on the album and perhaps, if possible, darker than the songs on Light for the Lost Boy:

I tried to be brave but I hid in the dark I sat in that cave and I prayed for a spark To light up all the pain that remained in my heart And the rain kept falling

The song is honest and painful:

There’s a woman at home and she’s praying for light My children are there and they love me in spite Of the shadow I know that they see in my eyes And the rain keeps falling

But through the sorrow, a voice rings out:

Peace, be still... peace, be still...

The song is written in psalm-like fashion — akin to one of King David’s laments. I’ll never forget the first time I listened through the album. Sitting on a chair in our living room during the first heavy rain of the season. I see the rain whenever I hear this song.

“Rejoice” opens with a solemn synth pad, almost so as not to belittle the heaviness of the previous track. But it doesn’t last for long: bright guitar picking, then Andrew’s voice:

And when the winter is over The flowers climb through the snow The willows weep and the clover grows Then all at once, you hear a song That’s stronger than the noise — Rejoice

There are moments of joy on this record, but “Rejoice” is the most joyful. A stark contrast to the sorrow in the song before. 

And when the peace turns to danger The nights are longer than days And every friend has a stranger’s face Then deep within the dungeon cell You have to make a choice — Rejoice

Joy isn’t dependent on circumstances: it’s a way we must live in spite of the circumstances. The man in the cave from the last song, has chosen to praise God, even in the darkness. “Rejoice” is like an anthem, a battle cry, to stir the sleeper, to lift the weary.

“Rejoice in the Lord alway: and again I say, Rejoice.” — Philipians 4:4

Andrew Peterson’s songwriting has grown over the years, and it’s still growing! There’s such a depth to these songs.

The Burning Edge of Dawn is about catching a glimpse of the coming Kingdom, and one way we can see it is through the inner-workings of the Holy Spirit in our hearts, as he moves us and shapes us and grows his fruit in our hearts. “I Want to Say I’m Sorry” is an honest expression of that inner-working: it’s a simple, humble song of confession and restoration:

I want to say I’m sorry that I drew the line I built the wall, the fault is mine And maybe now the only way to find some peace Is just to give it time and to trust in grace

So this is my communion hymn I want to sit beside you at the feast my friend, Again… Again and again…

Rich Mullins said it this way: “Every time you go to church you're confessing that you don't have it all together.” We all need to sit at that table. Receive the bread and the wine. We all need to be broken about our brokenness. To know our need for forgiveness. 

Scripture says that God allows his children to walk through dark times, “so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (II Corinthians 1:4). These songs are sources of comfort and light, little reminders of God’s goodness; the result of walking through a dark season of life.

“Be Kind To Yourself” is a song that Andrew wrote for his daughter. It’s tender and understanding, like he’s been in a similar place.

You can't expect to be perfect, It’s a fight you gotta forfeit You belong to me whatever you do So lay down your weapon, Darling take a deep breath And believe that I love you

Skye lends her beautiful voice to this song (as well as to “The Rain Keeps Falling”) and I must say, she’s really growing as a musician.

I so enjoy the bright background vocals dispersed throughout the album, like threads woven through the songs. They’re part of what gives the album a feel of continuity, of cohesion.

“The Power of a Great Affection” is a song about the unfathomable love of God. It is based on a phrase used by Christians over a century ago to describe their conversion.

I was reminded that my salvation is not my own: I’ve been loved by my maker long before I drew breath. I need to be reminded of that.

I cannot explain the ways of love Life cannot explain the grace of kindness There's no reason that can satisfy enough The healing of this blindness

I've been seized by the power of a great affection...

“We love him, because he first loved us” — 1 John 4:19

“The Sower’s Song” is the final track on The Burning Edge of Dawn. It opens with a piano arpeggio which brought to my mind the sun dawning over the Garden Tomb on that first Resurrection Sunday. 

Oh God, I am furrowed like the field, torn open like the dirt And I know that to be healed, I must be broken first I am aching for the yield that you will harvest from this hurt

Abide in me, let these branches bear you fruit Abide in me, Lord, as I abide in you

The song shifts pace nearly halfway through and begins growing, and growing. The end of “Sower’s Song” is straight out of Isaiah 55. Andrew’s voice is radiant and strong. The music was written by Ben Shive and has the feel of an epic cinematic soundtrack. It’s breath-taking, actually. I don’t really know how to best describe it, except to say that it is a beautiful ending to a beautiful album — a grand benediction, bringing the album back around, full circle. It goes out with french horns...

And the Sower leads us, and the Sower leads us...

"For as the rain comes down, and the snow from heaven, And do not return there, But water the earth, And make it bring forth and bud, That it may give seed to the sower And bread to the eater, so shall My word be that goes forth from My mouth; It shall not return to Me void, But it shall accomplish what I please, And it shall prosper [in the thing] for which I sent it.” — Isaisah 55:10-11

God the Gardener, Christ the Vine, we are the branches (John 15). Let us cling to Jesus. Cling, even as the darkness grows. One day we’ll wake to life, springing out of the cold earth. One day we’ll wake — at the burning edge of Dawn.

This album of songs has been such an encouragement to me. Thank you, Andrew, for speaking light into the darkness. Know that your labor in Christ is not in vain.

Blessings, Nathanael (Jebi)