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"No matter where I am, your teachings fill me with songs." - Psalm 119:54 (CEV)

Saturday, April 18, 2015

Behold the Lamb of God


It's been too long.

And this comes two weeks later than I wanted.

But God is Good

And life is not an emergency.

Can I share with you a song about Jesus?

In my mind, it's an Easter song,

Born out of meditations on the season.

But, as so many others have pointed out,

It's really just a song about Jesus.

Sounds like a song worth singing to me.



Behold the Lamb of God

There's an altar running thick with blood,
And there's a feast spread for the chosen ones,
The door is open for all to come
Behold the lamb of God.

So break the bread and pass the wine,
The Savior's heard the captives' cries.
He's set the table and invited us to dine.
Behold the Lamb of God,

Who takes away the sins of the world,
Spotless bears the stain,
Defeated stands victorious,
Dying prolongs His days.

There's a patch of earth stained crimson red,
An impassioned cry, a final breath,
A Love that is as strong as death,
Behold the Lamb of God.

The curtain's torn, the whole earth shakes,
The tombs are opened, the saints are raised,
The cup of Wrath is fully drained,
Behold the Lamb of God,

Who takes away the sins of the world,
Spotless bears the stain,
Defeated stands victorious,
Dying prolongs His days.

There's a darkness that breaks at dawn,
A grave left empty, a body gone,
For death itself can't hold back the Son,
Behold the Lamb of God.

Now, is there no one worthy to break
The seven seals and bring the final days?
Weep no more, look on the One who was slain,
Behold the Lamb of God,

Who takes away the sins of the world,
Spotless bears the stain,
Defeated reigns victorious,
Dying prolongs His days,

Who takes away the sins of the world,
Spotless bears the stain,
Defeated reigns victorious,
Dying prolongs His days.

Now there's a river of cleansing blood,
A feast awaiting the ransomed sons,
The bride will enter, her Groom will come,
Behold the Lamb of God.
Behold the Lamb of God.
Behold the Lamb of God.


©2015 Mary Schieferstein

Saturday, November 1, 2014

10/25/2014 - House Concert Lyrics






Lyrics:
Bravery
The Inheritance
Yahushua (Jonah's Prayer)
Lead Me On
Fall on Grace
You Said My Name
Before the Throne of God Above
How to Sing
What Kind of Love/Come Thou Font
Prodigals
Name All Your Fears
Hope
Love You More
Hope Now
Wrestling
Home to Stay

Bravery
6/8/2014

Don't You want the knight in shining armor
Who can swing his sword,
Someone mighty in the battle
Who is sure to win the war?

Don't You want the fearless leader
Who takes the front and paves the way?
Don't You want anyone but me?
I'm not brave.

Don't You want the superhero,
Dressed and poised to save the day,
Someone adored by all the people,
With uncanny power and strength?

Don't You want the well-trained master
Who overcomes the odds with grace?
Don't You want anyone but me?
I'm not brave.

You could have anyone You want
And so You choose the weak,
We who shake within our boots,
We with our chattering teeth.

And so I'll kick and scream and holler,
Scared beyond my wits to go,
But I want You just enough
To risk taking Your road.

And so You'll get all the Glory,
Stick a knife right through my pride,
And someday I will learn that bravery
Is when the weak trust You'll provide.

©2014 Mary Schieferstein

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The Inheritance
7/10/2014

The inheritance passed down
From the beginning of time,
When God created in perfection
And people screwed it up just fine.

And I'm just like my father,
Just like my mother,
In my nose and in my knowing,
In my eyes and where my eyes are going.

These ashes to ashes,
This dust to dust.
Feels like there's a whole lot missing,
But it's all we've got.

The inheritance passed down
From age to age,
Our history of folly
Repeated at every stage.

And I'm just like my mother,
Just like my father,
In my mind and my mindless dreams,
In my hair and my hare-brained schemes.

These ashes to ashes,
This dust to dust.
Feels like there's a whole lot missing,
But it's all we've got.

'Til into the ashes
Came the Breath
To take on an inheritance
That was never His,

And out of the dust
Came a new Hope,
And all that we've passed down
Need no longer be owned.

And it's just ashes to ashes,
Ashes to ashes,
Just ashes to ashes
And dust to dust
'Til He breathes into dirt and
Real life comes.

And I'll be just like my Father,
Just like my Brother,
In my heart and in my ways,
His light reflected in my face.

His inheritance passed down
From His Holy throne
To those who disowned Him
He chose to bring back home.

©2014 Mary Schieferstein

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Yahushua (Jonah's Prayer)
2/17/2011-2/18/2011

When I was
In trouble, God,
I prayed that You would save.
I cried out
And You came down
And raised me from this grave.

Yahushua.
Yahushua.

You'd thrown me
Deep into the sea,
And I thought I would die
Far from You,
Oh, so far from You
That I'd never see Your light.

Yahushua.
Yahushua.

Hope for life
Was out of sight,
Still, You came and rescued me.
I was alone,
You were on your throne,
Still, You saw me on my knees.

Yahushua.
Yahushua.

All who don't
Seek to know You
Turn from mercy and grace.
As for me,
With all I've seen,
I can't help but bring You praise.

Yahushua.
Yahushua.

Yahushua.
Yahushua.

You have saved my life
And I will sacrifice.
I will keep every promise I make
To the only One with the power to save
And I will praise.
I will praise
Because You save.

Yahushua.
Yahushua.

Yahushua.
Yahushua.

The God who saves.

©2011 Mary Schieferstein

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Lead Me On
5/3/2014

I'm not really sure where I am at
And everything's hazy up ahead,
But I'll close my eyes and take that step
If You'll let me hold Your hand.

Lead me on.
Lead me on.
Lead me on.
Lead me on, lead me on.

You take me places I've never been,
Along these unfamiliar, uneven paths,
And everything in me wants to go back
Except the part that knows You're all I have.

So lead me on.
Lead me on.
Lead me on.
Lead me on, lead me on.

And, every now and then,
We get high enough to see
All the valleys we have crossed,
And I can hardly believe
That I've never been lost,
No, You have never failed me.

So lead me on.
Lead me on.
Lead me on.
Lead me on, . . .

Lead me on.
Lead me on.
Lead me on.
Lead me on, lead me on.

Lead me on, lead me on.
Lead me on, lead me on.
Lead me on, lead me on.

©2014 Mary Schieferstein

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Fall on Grace
2/12/2013, 2/16/2013

Dark roots
Pierce through my heart
And wrap around.

Greedy fingers
Find where they are
And hold on.

Shadows
Reach into my eyes
And flood my mind.

And I
Jump and I dive
Headlong.

And I try
To cut off the roots,
Pull the plug on this reservoir,
But I
Am finding the truth:
That this springs up from my heart.

Desires
Course through my veins,
Run right through me.

Solemn vows
Slip from my memory.
I am so weak.

Greed
Wells up in my chest,
All-consuming.

My knees
Are shaking from this
Poison in me.

And I try
To live by Your blood,
Get my drink from another place,
But I
Find I'm not enough,
From my self there's no escape.

So I'll fall on Grace,
I'll fall on Grace,
I try but I cannot stand
The weight of my blood-red hands.

Grace,
Oh, I need Your Grace,
'Cause the stain runs deeper still,
And I can't save myself,
No, I can't save myself.

Can't save myself.

So I try
To set my eyes on You,
Watch the darkness run and hide.

And I
Fall right down again,
Fall on Grace and all stains are white.

©2013 Mary Schieferstein

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You Said My Name
5/3/2011

I left all I had to follow You
And then I ran away.
I was all alone and so confused
And terribly afraid.

When the people asked if I knew You,
I claimed that I did not.
I'm a failure and a hypocrite.
I turned my back on God.

I remember when I had faith,
When I trusted and followed Your ways,
When I left the place where I felt safe,
Knowing You'd protect me from the waves.

I left all I had to follow You
And then I ran away.
I promised I would follow through
And then I stopped halfway.

You had been building something good,
You had been changing my life.
You're the One I declared, You're the One I loved,
You're the One I denied.

I remember when You looked at me,
Rough and reckless and so unclean.
You saw what I couldn't see
And called me by what You knew I'd someday be.

You helped me build the bridges,
Helped me learn what faith's about,
But I ran back to where I'd come from
And burned what we'd built down.

And I truly wish I hadn't.
I want to take it back.
I want to run into Your arms,
But I don't know if I can,

'Cause I don't think You'd take me,
I think I've gone too far.
Maybe I'm destined to live my life
Alone and in the dark.

I left all I had to follow You
And then I ran away.

But You say my name,
You say my name,
You say my name!

After I didn't think things through,
After I ran away,
After all I'd done to You,
You still said my name,
You said my name.

Say my name.

I left all I had to follow You
And then I ran away,
But after all I did to You,
You still said my name.

©2011 Mary Schieferstein

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Before the Throne of God Above
Music by William Batchelder Bradbury 1861
Words by Charitie Lees Smith Bancroft 1863
Arranged by my dad 2012

Before the throne of God above,
I have a strong and perfect plea:
A great High Priest whose name is Love,
Who ever lives and pleads for me.

My name is graven on His hands,
My name is written on His heart,
I know that while in heaven He stands,
No tongue can bid me thence depart,
No tongue can bid me thence depart.

When Satan tempts me to despair,
And tells me of the guilt within,
Upward I look and see Him there
Who made an end of all my sin.

Because a sinless Savior died,
My sinful soul is counted free,
For God, the Just, is satisfied
To look on Him and pardon me,
To look on Him and pardon me.

Behold Him there, the risen Lamb,
My perfect, spotless righteousness,
The great unchangeable I Am,
The King of glory and of grace!

One in (with) Himself, I cannot die,
My soul is purchased by His blood,
My life is hid with Christ on high,
With Christ my Savior and my God,
With Christ my Savior and my God.

arrangement ©2012

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How to Sing
5/20/2013

Bet you didn't know you'd be having a little girl,
Bet you didn't know how to be a dad.
Bet you were a little scared that you might make
Some pretty big mistakes.
Well, how's it feel looking back?

I don't remember the first time you held me in your arms,
Don't remember way back when the whole world seemed new,
But I can tell you what really matters
More than anything else
I don't remember a day without you.

And, when you look at me, Daddy, do you see part of you?
'Cause, when I look at you, I see part of me.
And do you feel it runs deeper than just colors and shapes?
Do you remember how you taught me how to sing?
'Cause I remember how you taught me how to sing.

Bet you didn't know the years would fly so fast,
Bet you blinked and realized they were gone.
Bet there are many days you wish
You could give me a good-night kiss
And then remember how far I am from home.

Do you know that you're the first man I ever loved,
And, by God's Grace you'll be one of the last.
Do you know that there are times
I think of your love for me and cry.
That's how much a little girl loves her dad.

And, when you look at me, Daddy, do you see part of you?
'Cause, when I look at you, I see part of me.
And do you feel it runs deeper than just colors and shapes?
Do you remember how you taught me how to sing?
'Cause I remember how you taught me how to sing.

And, over time, we've both made some pretty big mistakes.
Well, we're human and we'll make them 'til we die.
Do you know I hardly remember the tears you've caused,
Only the way you hold me when I cry?

And, when you look at me, Daddy, do you see part of you?
'Cause, when I look at you, I see part of me.
And do you feel it runs deeper than just colors and shapes?
Do you remember how you taught me how to sing?

And, when you look at me, Daddy, and see who I am now,
I hope you see a trace of your little girl,
'Cause I can feel her here inside me, I know she's looking out,
Telling you she loves you more than anything in the world.
She spends the moments she's away from you remembering
That you're the one who taught her how to sing.

I remember how you taught me how to sing.

©2013 Mary Schieferstein

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What Kind of Love/Come Thou Font
11/1/2013

No one cares too much
For the sands of the earth,
They have their eyes peeled for the things
That can prove their worth
And earn their keep.
And that's not me.

No one wants to take
The plain and simple rock,
They break it into bits to get
The shiny things they want,
Bury the pieces,
Dirty and helpless as I am.

But You are not like men.
You redeem what isn't worth it,
Take the ones that can never earn it,
'Cause of Who You are and not what they have.

What Grace!
That You would take the dust
And shape it into beauty,
You shape it into beauty.

How Great
Is Your unfailing Love!
That You would pursue me,
That You would still pursue me.

No one holds much hope
For the common thief,
“Sure, maybe they can change, but let's lock them away.”
Safety's a more pressing need
Than a second chance.
What hope do I have?

And everybody hates
A rebel against good.
They scoff and scorn and no one mourns,
And maybe no one should.
Who can contest
My just punishment?

But You are not like men,
Find those who've robbed You and pay their debt,
Those who've betrayed You and welcome them,
'Cause of Who You are and not what they've been.

What Grace!
That You would take the dust
And shape it into beauty,
You shape it into beauty.

How Great
Is Your unfailing Love!
That You would pursue me,
That You would still pursue me.

And what kind of Lover
Would win the heart
Of a harlot?

What kind of Groom
Would pay the bride-price
With His blood?

What kind of Husband
Would take the adulterous
Back again?

What kind of God?
What kind of Love?
What kind of Love?

What Grace!
That You would take the dust
And shape it into beauty,
You shape me into beauty.

How Great
Is Your unfailing Love!
That You would pursue me,
That You would still pursue me.

What kind of love?
What kind of love?
What kind of love?

©2013 Mary Schieferstein

Come Thou Font

Music by John Wyeth 1813
Words by Robert Robinson 1757
public domain

O, to Grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be.
Let Thy goodness like a fetter
Bind my wandering heart to Thee.

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love.
Here's my heart, Lord, take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it,
Prone to leave the God I love.
Here's my heart, Lord, take and seal it,
Seal it for Thy courts above.

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Prodigals
3/16/2014

It must've seemed so good at the time,
Out of sight, out of mind,
To get away from that comfortable life
That's not quite good enough, not quite right.

But it doesn't take long for a spoiled brat
To end up hungry, cold, and out of cash,
To be willing to take any punishment
For a hot meal and a soft bed.

And, in my foolish pride, I look at him,
Thinking that he's such an idiot,
Forgetting all the times I've run,
Tempted by such stupid stuff,
And come crawling home to bawl.
We're prodigals, prodigals all.

It must've seemed like such a lucky break,
His chance to finally escape,
Freed from his path to make his way,
Dreams of grandeur and fame.

But danger never entered his head,
No thoughts of any potential hardship,
So, when he lost it all, he came right back,
Found out it wasn't really worth it.

And, in my foolish pride, I look at him,
Thinking that he's such an idiot,
Forgetting all the times I've run,
Tempted by such stupid stuff,
And come crawling home to bawl.
We're prodigals, prodigals all.

And thank God He's not pacing back and forth to chew us out,
Thank God He isn't counting all the debts we owe Him now,
Thank God He doesn't look at us and send us away,
Thank God for Grace that celebrates, starts teaching us to stay.

It always seems so good at the time,
Always forget what satisfies,
Always forget what we've been given,
Always will forget again.

And, in my foolish pride, I look at him,
Thinking that he's such an idiot,
Forgetting all the times I've run,
Tempted by such stupid stuff,
And come crawling home to bawl.
We're prodigals, prodigals all.

Thank God He's known that all along.

©2014 Mary Schieferstein

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Name All Your Fears
7/4/2014

You can't name all your fears
'Til they corner you like a lion in the den,
'Til they rush at you like the storm-waves crashing,
'Til you realize that you've stopped breathing.

You can't name all your fears
'Til you melt in the furnace's heat,
'Til you tremble at the giant's feet,
'Til all you hear's your own heart beat.

And I don't know whether to laugh or to cry,
'Cause I've been pulled and tugged and ripped open wide,
I've seen myself laid bare beneath the sky,
And I've never been more grateful in my life.

You can't name all your fears
'Til the last march on the seventh day,
'Til you open the doors to learn your fate,
'Til you can't hold 'cause your hands shake.

You can't name all your fears
'Til you're looking your past in the eyes,
'Til you're pursued and you cannot hide,
'Til you can't speak 'cause your mouth's dry.

And I don't know whether to laugh or to cry,
'Cause I've been pulled and tugged and ripped open wide,
I've seen myself laid bare beneath the sky,
And I've never been more grateful in my life.

And I don't know whether to laugh or to cry,
'Cause I've been pulled and tugged and ripped open wide,
I've seen myself laid bare beneath the sky,
And I've never been more grateful in my life.

'Til they warn you but your face is set,
'Til the crowds want to do you in,
No, you can't name all the fears you have,
And you miss some even then.

And I don't know whether to laugh or to cry,
'Cause I've been pulled and tugged and ripped open wide,
I've seen myself laid bare beneath the sky,
And I've never been more grateful in my life.

©2014 Mary Schieferstein

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Hope
9/18/2014

There's a springtime that feels like Easter morning
That overcomes the icy wind and shines upon the snow.
There's a fire inside burning
So this chill will never reach the bone.

There is a hope that lingers
When nothing else remains,
There is blood of Another's heart
Rushing through our veins.

There is a rain that feels like coming clean
Carving rivers through the driest desert's sands,
And there is a river washing over us,
Filling the deep, dark emptiness.

There is a hope that lingers
When nothing else remains,
There is blood of Another's heart
Rushing through our veins.

And most people fear the nighttime
'Cause the darkness pierces their souls,
But, in that darkness, we will dance beneath the stars,
Shining forth a light we cannot call our own.

And there is a hope that lingers
When nothing else remains,
There is blood of Another's heart
Rushing through our veins.

There is a joy that consumes,
A peace deeper than any pain.
There is blood of Another's heart
Rushing through our veins.

©2014 Mary Schieferstein

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Love You More
1/21/2014

Crazy how a year ago
I never thought this would be.
Crazy how our God moves
In ways I'd never dreamed.

So now I'm standing here with you,
Not knowing what lies ahead,
But I've found the key to facing anything
Is who you face it with.

And, if we dance in mismatched socks
Across a cold apartment floor,
If the song we sing fades into
Our own private war,
I know that what we have
Is worth fighting for
And, when the smoke clears,
I'll only love you more.

And, if we get everything
We always wanted to have,
A husky named Ninja,
A house and kids, . . .

Or, if we lose all that we've got,
I know that some things will remain,
Like these vows that we have taken
And God's unending Grace.

So, if we dance in mismatched socks
Across a cold apartment floor,
If the song we sing fades into
Our own private war,
I know that what we have
Is worth fighting for
And, when the smoke clears,
I'll only love you more.

And, as we take our first steps,
As we learn to move together,
I've never been more sure
I want to be with you forever,
We're tethered.

And, if we dance in mismatched socks
Across a cold apartment floor,
If the song we sing fades into
Our own private war,
I know that what we have
Is worth fighting for
And, when the smoke clears,
I'll only love you more.

If we dance in mismatched socks
Across a cold apartment floor,
If the song we sing fades into
Our own private war,
I know that what we have
Is worth fighting for
And, when the smoke clears,
I'll only love you more.

For the rest of my years,
I want to love you more.

©2014 Mary Schieferstein 

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Hope Now
4/27/2013 - 4/28/2013, 5/2/2013 - 5/3/2013

She looks at the man who rules her life,
Knowing he doesn't care that she screams inside,
She's an object, and his for the taking.

She wishes that it was all a dream,
But this nightmare's as real as it seems,
Day after day, her heart is breaking.

And where is hope?
Where is hope now?
Where is hope?
Where is hope now?

He looks down at the rice running through his hand,
Seeing all his dreams slipping from his grasp,
He's an animal, working for another's gain.

He thinks of years spent trying to pay his debt,
The long hours and nights of little rest,
But he's no closer, feels caught and he can't escape.

And where is hope?
Where is hope now?
Where is hope?
Where is hope now?

If I believe
That this is wrong,
I must believe
That there is a Reason.

And, if the Reason's Him,
And He is Just,
Then their suffering is mine,
And I am taking this fight up,

'Cause it's already been won,
Oh, it's already been won,
It's already been won,
He's already won.

And He is hope,
He is hope now.
He is hope,
It's time for me to live it out,
Time for me to live hope out,
'Cause He is hope now,
He is hope now,
He is hope now.

He is hope,
He is hope now.
He is hope,
He is hope now.

©2013 Mary Schieferstein 

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Wrestling
5/7/2014 - 5/10/2014, 5/15/2014

A baby's dying,
And beside him sits a mother's broken heart,
A pair of empty eyes staring at the stars,
Mindless fingers stroking his arm.

The sound of crying -
Tears rolling down her sunken cheeks,
Mouth gaping as she struggles to breathe,
Half-formed questions left hanging.

And, O, my God, don't You love the people staring straight at death?
O, my God, don't You love the babies who will never be children?
God, I know You have Your reasons,
But I'm sick of easy answers
That pile Band-Aids on the deep wounds,
And sometimes pain cannot be cured
By any magnitude of truth,
So we're left wrestling like Jacob,
Holding on until You bless us,
And time may heal, but it will never remove.

A sister's reaching,
Her touch cut off by solid glass,
Her heart held out in her empty hand,
Her fingerprints marking the impasse.

The sound of yelling -
A father's head makes contact with the wall,
His angry fist asking if You care at all,
His face twisted by hope's apparent downfall.

And, O, my God, don't You love the people staring straight at death?
O, my God, don't You love the babies who will never be children?
God, I know You have Your reasons,
But I'm sick of easy answers
That pile Band-Aids on the deep wounds,
And sometimes pain cannot be cured
By any magnitude of truth,
So we're left wrestling like Jacob,
Holding on until You bless us,
And time may heal, but it will never remove.

And, oh, I know some things aren't meant to be,
And, oh, I know we're not the only ones who weep,
But, sometimes, we cursed just need to grieve
Over the loss of Eden,
The result of our own conceited
Seeking to dethrone
Our one and only hope,
As though who You are isn't who You ought to be,
As though it'd be better if we defined what we believe.

And, O, my God, I know that Your Love never left,
O, my God, I know You have something greater planned,
But, God, it's so hard to understand,
So I won't take the easy answers
That pile Band-Aids on the deep wounds,
'Cause sometimes pain cannot be cured
By any magnitude of truth,
And so we'll wrestle like Jacob,
Holding on until You bless us,
And it's the scars of Grace that time cannot remove.

©2014 Mary Schieferstein  

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Home to Stay
7/5/2014

The dawn breaks,
The sunlight warms the dark road,
Reveals the shadows
Weighing down my soul,
So I turn and
Step into the light.

It's an endless path
I've walked for too long now,
Utterly determined
To reach some better ground,
But the place I need is
The one I left behind.

So, I'm coming back
To where I belong.
Thought I could do this on my own,
I'm finding I was wrong.

And every step
That bore me away
Has taught me that, no matter how it hurts,
It's better to stay.

I can trace
Your features in the sand,
I know You,
And You know my darkest depths,
The countless times I've
Decided to run.

What You asked
Was more than what I wanted,
Didn't take the chance
That You would be all I couldn't.
I so regret my
Lack of trust.

So, I'm coming back
To where I belong.
Thought I could do this on my own,
I'm finding I was wrong.

And every step
That bore me away
Has taught me that, no matter how it hurts,
It's better to stay.

I hear the whisper of Your voice
Call to me like a lover
Captivated by someone
With nothing to offer.

And all these times I've had the gall
To love another
Are washed in the morning rain
And I am home to stay.

So, I'm coming back
To where I belong.
Thought I could do this on my own,
I'm finding I was wrong.

And every step
That bore me away
Has taught me that, no matter how it hurts,
It's better to stay.

I hear the whisper of Your voice
Call to me like a lover
Captivated by someone
With nothing to offer.

And all these times I've had the gall
To love another
Are washed in the morning rain
And I am home to stay.

I hear the whisper of Your voice
Call to me like a lover
Captivated by someone
With nothing to offer.

And all these times I've had the gall
To love another
Are washed in the morning rain
And I am home to stay.

I am home to stay.
I am home to stay,
Home to stay.

©2014 Mary Schieferstein 

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Monday, October 27, 2014

Reflections


Well, I did it.

After four years of writing, I finally did it.

I gave my first concert.

And, really, "I" did it just isn't the right description.

At all.

God pretty much dropped this opportunity in my lap,

And it would never have come together without the help and encouragement of countless friends and family members.

Honestly, I am blown away.

By so many things.

I thought I'd take a moment to share some of the strange, random thoughts that have occurred to me in the past sixty hours.


"I just sang sixteen songs."

I think the only time I've ever sung that much is when we used to do worship nights in college.

I've never known how to sing and play fifteen of my own songs at any one time.

Since I've never had the opportunity to practice much, I forget the accompaniments shortly after I record them.  (Fortunately, I have the recordings to refer back to so I can remember them again.)

"How, exactly, did I get through sixteen songs?"

I don't know if I've ever once performed a single one of my songs and been able to look back and know how I got through it.

I've never completely, totally forgotten a lyric (though I've come close).

I've never gotten completely, totally stuck (though I do in practice all the time).

I've never had a clear memory of how I managed to get through every step between the first verse and the last line.

I think it must just be God sustaining me, because I can't figure out any other way to fill in the holes.


"These people actually came to hear me."

It's so crazy to me that other people would want to hear the words that I write.

I feel like I write to get things out of my brain and off my chest.

There's something in the artist that requires making art - as though, if I don't write, keeping it all in will kill me.

So, really, I write mostly for myself.

I write very personal songs about what's going on in my life at any given moment.

That anyone would want to come hear my messy words - my messy life - just blows me away.

(Then again, I love listening to other artists' music.  Double-standard, much?)

That my friends would give up their night - absolutely prioritizing my concert over anything else they had going on - is so humbling.

That strangers I've never even met would take a friend at his or her word and come to hear some unknown songwriter perform is so humbling.

I feel like I'm not enough.

I guess, then, that what God does through me amazes me all the more.

"These people were blessed by my performance."

A super-encouraging friend keeps telling me that my music is a blessing.  Sometimes, though, that's hard to believe.  How could my words actually bless someone else?

I got to spend a lot of time at the concert talking to people.  While I wasn't very good at engaging those who weren't really engaging me (which is really because I'm shy and small talk is not my favorite thing to do), those who really wanted to talk to and engage me just blew.  Me.  Away.

I heard so many times that a particular song blessed someone, or that a particular thing I said blessed someone.  I heard about at least two people who cried.

Then people were telling me my lyrics were deep and meaningful - not just the same old lines repeated over and over again.  They said my stories were articulate (when I'd been more concerned that I was rambling and not explaining clearly), and that they appreciated my honesty.

It's hard to be in front of a group of people and let them see a little bit of how screwed-up you are.  There can be a lot of fear that someone will think you're not good enough - especially in Christian circles, that you're not a good enough Christian - because you admit that you aren't perfect.  But the truth is, we're all struggling.  And, hard as it can be for a perfectionist to admit she's not perfect, it's absolutely the truth.

That God would use my words to bless another?  It just astounds me.

"This is the Body of Christ."

The day after I got back from Escape to the Lake, I went to church early for prayer.  We read that day's passage, which was about the Body of Christ, the church.  As we prayed, I started crying, because I felt like I wasn't fulfilling the role I was supposed to as part of the Body.

Saturday night, someone else brought up the Body.  The way everyone supported me, and the things I heard of what my music had meant to others - I just felt whole.  That role I wasn't fulfilling?  I was fulfilling it now.  And it felt like the perfect timing.


"I wasn't really nervous."

I usually have terrible stage fright.  But, Saturday, I didn't.  At all.

I was a little more attentive than normal because I was worried about screwing up, but nothing I'd call nerves.

I was just comfortable and so happy, blessed, and overwhelmed to have the opportunity to share.

It was fun.

"I want to do it all again."

This morning, I was asked if I was glad it was over.

I spent over two months writing accompaniments, practicing at every possible opportunity, meeting with people, gathering objects . . .

I spent the weekend staying up late and getting up early because there was so much I needed to get done.

And all the time, all the absolute exhaustion, everything - it was all worth it.

I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing.

So, I answered, "No.  I want to do it all again."





 
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