I've got something to say

Tonight at Vespers, the band did this song. As if that wasn't powerful enough, a drama group did drama to it, and I'm telling you, I couldn't even sing after it when worship started. I may just be emotional or something, but I needed to be reminded... Like the lyrics say, "And faith might mean there won't be answers And hope might mean enduring through the night But help me not forget in darkness The things that I believed in light." So listen to this song, and read the words. I can't stop listening to it. And when the Vespers team posts the video of the drama, I will post it as well.




I've got something to say
It's been one of those days
When I'm finding it hard to believe in You

I've got something to say
I've forgotten how to pray
And I'm finding it hard to believe the truth

I've got something to say
Right now it feels like You are slipping away
Like I am drowning in a crisis of faith
Like I'm alone

I've got something to say
What was black and white is grey
And I'm finding it hard to believe in You

And faith might mean there won't be answers
And hope might mean enduring through the night
But help me not forget in darkness
The things that I believed in light

I've got something to say
Right now it feels like You are slipping away
Like I am drowning in a crisis of faith
Like I was found, but now I'm lost in the fray

Christian lyrics - SOMETHING TO SAY LYRICS - STARFIELD

Morbid and marvelous

Trina and I started a new devotional last night. It's over the books of Ruth and Esther. It starts with Ruth. This was our second time reading the four chapters of Ruth straight through, switching translations to get different perspectives and what not. It was an incredible time last night. God revealed so much to us.

Something I kept thinking of after last night was Ruth 1:16-17:

"But Ruth replied, "Don't urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God my God. Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord deal with me, be it ever so severely if anything but death separates you and me."

Most of us have heard that before. We've heard it in marriage vows, and maybe we've heard the story before, too. After reading it a few times though in different translations, it seemed to bold itself upon the flimsy pages of my Bible.

Trina and I shared our opinions of themes in this story of Ruth. One we talked about for a while was the difference between BEING faithful, and ACTING faithful. In our own words, Ruth actually was faithful. Faithfulness was not something she did, it was something she was.

We talked about applicable lessons from what we read, and how faithfulness is obviously something we should possess as Christians. Our faithfulness applies primarily to God. After that, it basically all falls into place.

So Ruth 1:16-17 was Ruth's response to her mother-in-law, Naomi, when she told Ruth she could leave and return to Moab because Ruth's husband had died. That was a huge thing. Naomi released Ruth of the burden to carry on her husband's name. That's unheard of. But Ruth denied herself the "freedom" Naomi charged her with. And she responded as the faithful woman she was. She didn't just act faithful like the other daughter-in-law of Naomi, Orpah.

Trina and I pondered Ruth's "vow" to Naomi. I felt like God was asking me if I would make that same vow to Him. If I would say, "God, where you go, I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people. Where you die, i will die, and there I will be buried."

In a sense, when I gave my life to God, I already said those things. But let's be real. It's something we have to do over and over again. We need to constantly come back to the altar, because we constantly go back to the "offerings" we set before Him and take 'em back home.

So, what about saying to God, "Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried"? That couldn't be applicable. God can't die.

But the fact is, Jesus died. Yes, He rose. But He died. So, if I say to God, "Where you die, I will die, and there I will be buried." What am I saying?

Galations 2:20 says, "I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live..." There's more to it, but consider that. We're called to be "Crucified" with Christ. To die with Him.

Romans 6:1-14 goes on and on about how we are dead to sin, and made alive in Christ.

Romans 6:4 says, "We were therefore buried with Him through baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life."

It's a theme in the New Testament to "die to sin." We are to bury our sin... we're made alive in Christ, and we died to our old lives. Our sinful nature. We're made new.

So I look at myself. And when I say to God, "Where you die I will die, and there I will be buried." I'm questioned with, "Will you? Will you die where I have died? Will you be buried there?" Will I really put to death every single part of my "old self"? Will I really bury the things that don't belong in my life as a daughter of the Lord, and leave them buried? I said before in a blog a few weeks ago, I used to want to be an archaeologist. Well, sometimes I love digging up things I buried myself. When I make this vow to God, these questions are set before me. Will I leave what is dead, beneath the dirt I bury with?

I feel increasingly challenged with this. I'm never done dying... because I'm never done living. I'm never able to live enough. Never able to gain enough Life of God. The more I die to myself, the more I live to Christ. And I just can't die enough. What a morbid and marvelous concept.

"Wanna sing?"

I just had to add one thing. One of the best parts of this weekend was singing and playing the piano with Trina and her mom. After watching Glee with the two of them Friday afternoon, Mrs. Thorell asked, "You girls wanna sing?"

I wasn't sure what she meant at first. The answer is always yes to that question for me really. But I didn't know what she was talking about. Then slowly things came together. I forgot Mrs. Thorell was a music person too. She minored in music, and she's been playing and accompanying for Trina and all of her music stuff for a long time. We started going through the endless music books and song books in their adorable, and most wonderful music room. Their perfect piano was exquisite, and reminded me of the one I will buy for myself to just say, "I love you Shai. Now play." Im kidding. But it was so nice.

Soon, Trina picked a piece and her mom started playing and Trina started singing. How I love to listen to Trina Cherie sing. She has one of the most effortless voices. So pure, so lovely. I just love it. I took a turn and sang My True Love, which I'm working on this week for my Sr. Recital. We sang some duets, and Mrs. Thorell sang a duet with Trina from Wicked. We did the same thing yesterday afternoon, and last night. It was so much fun. Just singing and playing. It reminded me of home.

I just had so much fun being with the two of them. Singing all these random and wonderful songs from every musical I could think of, and all the music books they had. It was a highlight for me:)

Hey hey, what's ya name

I'm back in Illinois:)

This weekend with Train was so much fun. I had the time of my life with her and her family and friends. I get a high from meeting new people sometimes. Socializing is my anti-drug. Or something. Either way, I just loved meeting everybody.

Last night we went to a Huskers game. Apparently the third largest population in Nebraska. Where the college game is. I couldn't wear my purple sweatshirt, in hopes of not getting shot. The color is red people. You wear the right color, and nobody gets hurt. So I borrowed red from Trina, and we stopped and grabbed an official T-shirt, so I can say I've been to Nebraska, and not only that, but experienced Nebraska. I'm wearing it now. I feel like part of the pack. While still maintaining my Jersey wits.

After half time, Trin and I left and headed out to her mom's old college, Concordia University. UNL (University of Nebraska Lincoln campus) was where the game was, where Trina's dad went to school. He also coached the football team for a while. Anyway, a friend of ours from Greenville, as weird as it is, was playing a show at Concordia. So we met him there and stayed for his show. It was the strangest thing to be 9 hours away from Greenville, and see Clayton play. We'll see him tomorrow. I just find that amusing.

We met some cousins, aunts and uncles. Some of my favorite people might be Trina's grandparents. Her grandma was absolutely hysterical. She was a talker, which warmed my heart. She treated me like she knew me her whole life. She'd keep talking, and if no one was paying attention she'd just seem to pick someone who would meet her gaze. That was me a few times. I loved it. She was such a sweet woman, and I loved how into the football games she got. When Trevor was in the midst of his first touch down, she was sitting behind me and grabbed onto my shoulders and squeezed and shouted her anticipation. She then realized I was not her granddaughter, and she apologized for going crazy and grabbing me. I just loved it though. Oh man, she was so great.

Trina's grandpa was hilarious too. He thought I said my name was "Trina" too when we were all giving introductions. Train and I seem to get that a lot. In fact, that's one reason I call her Train. Traina sounds like Shaina. And then people sometimes call us "Trina and Shina." Like, "Sheena." Apparently our names sound too much alike for the average Joe. That's why we vowed we wouldn't marry anyone named Joe. We like our names.

I felt like I heard my name more times than I normally do. It had to do with Trina's dad's name being Shane. Now, understand this. I am in every way, a nick name person. I LOVE calling people something. I love their names. I love calling them by their names, yet also by whatever seems to click in my head. Like Train. Or Francine (aka Ali), or Whitnock/Whinny (aka Whitney), Pookie, (Aka Katie Johnson), Lashes (aka Laura), Bi (...Anna)... you get the idea. I had established many years ago that my friends could call me whatever they wanted. Except Shain. That was, in fact, a boy's name.

I can take a punch and act and look rather masculine in certain situations. Yes, it is true. I enjoy sweatpants. I love huge T-shirts, and I even gargle sometimes. When no one's looking, I blow my nose too. But. I've always intended to maintain my femininity by all nick names awarded to be rather less manly.

It all started when I started calling Katie Shaffer Kath. Her name is Kathleen. So Sarah Sharpe and I decided it would work. Katie hated it. So she started calling me Shain. We'd fight over it all... to be honest, it never seriously bugged me all that much. For the sake of the situation though, I fought like a champ. But people still call me Shain sometimes.

All this to say, I'm over it. I don't mind it at all really. And I respond and turn around when I hear the name "Shain," or in this weekend's case, "Shane."

Whew. That was an exhausting description. Now you know something new about me.

Getting back to Illinois was kind of sad. Trina and I had a vacation. Coming back is always exhausting and somewhat depressing. But I think we're getting back just fine. Lots to do this week... and I'm looking forward to getting a lot done in the next few days.

Time is flying. Trina and I are both busy bees, and love it that way. But it makes times go by really quickly.

And finally, the story of the title: Caleigh and I used to rap to the song "I'm Like A Bird," and end with our own stupid and completely ridiculous words. "Hey hey, what's ya name" May or may not have been a part of our rendition. And by saying that, I've basically exposed myself. Cal, cheers to us being little obnoxious songwriters before we knew the difference between cool and just down right not. I felt this appropriate after all my rambling about nick names... and adieu :)

Corn Huskers

I'm in Nebraska! Thursday night, Trina Cherie and I set out for Omaha Nebraska. We got to the airport in St. Louis, and decided we needed a peppermint mocha from Starbucks. It's a thing of ours. We split peppermint mochas. Anyway, we ordered, and the dude gave us two grandes for free. I won't say it was without rather unimpressive comments... we don't look like strippers so I was confused, but we walked away, and enjoyed the drinks anyway. Hopefully he didn't put anything besides the ingredients into the cups. We tried to think positive.

We got to Omaha after our flight had been delayed for about an hour. I spent the whole plane ride looking over a song for my Sr Recital. I'm kinda doing some arranging, I guess you could say. I won't give away too much. But it's going to be pretty spectacular. I'm really excited to have a lot of people involved. It's exhausting, but it's going to pay off. And I think I'm going to have the time of my life, come February 26th, at 7:00 PM on that stage.

Some of Trina's friends picked us up, and we stopped at Nebraska Wesleyan University to see some more people. I've had so much fun finally putting faces onto the names I've learned while knowing Trina.

When we got back to Trina's, I was laughing about how all you see is sky. No matter where you were. Nebraska is flat. I said that about Illinois. But really. Nebraska is flatter. But the adorable thing about it, is how precious the small town feel is. Everyone literally knows everyone. Yesterday, Train (I call Trina Train sometimes...) took me to this square of cute little shops. We went into this bookstore... mistake number one.... you just can't take Shai into a bookstore that has not only a ton of books, but a ton of perfect, wonderful, brilliant used books in the back for discount prices. I just love to read. Anyway, we looked at the bibles, which were of no charge. I got one, because I like having bibles with different translations. I like to compare. Anyway, I looked at one Bible, and told Trina, "Trin, I think it's so cool to have a Bible that belonged to someone else. See their notes, things they underlined...."

She looked over my shoulder at the name in the front and said, "Oh. Don. I know him. He goes to my church."

And not only that, we saw him at the football game last night. And passed his house a few times. This is a small town people. It's adorable.

So the tale of the bookstore concluded with me buying a few books. I had to. And Trina bought one too, and we're gonna read it together. So it's ok. It's worth spending money if it's going to end up in quality time with your roommate. One fo Trina's love languages. We speak each others' so well. It's so cute.

Anyway, last night was Trevor's football game. Trina's brother. Number 23. That kid is fast. Two touch downs. He's a beast. Tonight we're going to a Nebraska game. Im excited.

Sing to me

This is one of those times that an understood silence would find a happy home. The times when something utterly overwhelming, and beautiful leaves you speechless. The times you have nothing intelligent to offer the air.

As a songwriter, I love to write songs to my Jesus. I love to sing to Him, to play with melodic prayers. The pressures of my fingers on black and white keys that throw themselves with abandon onto strings that vibrate into perfect sounds. The feeling of strumming a line of six strings with my fingers tightened across the neck of my guitar to hum an ache my voice never could.

Then, there are the times I cannot share even the beginnings of.... when God writes to me. I contemplate how to write a song to Him, but then He literally puts a melody in my head, words under the lead of my pencil, and a progression that fits perfectly.

Whitney and I have written about 13 songs together or so in the last year. Strangely enough, we haven't gotten around to writing together again this semester until tonight. Tonight, I sat before my desk, wanting to wash my face, and end the day with sweet slumber. My eyes have been pleading for me to do just this. However, my head was wide awake and I didn't want to surrender to sleep just yet. Whitney then popped up on my computer screen saying she wanted to write a worship song.

So I popped next door to her room with my song writing journal, my quiet time notebook, and my bible. And a sweatshirt. I've been freezing all night. Whitney has been playing guitar all day, much to my ease and delight. The sounds that come from a guitar, as Caleigh would say, are equivalent to the reckless love in an embrace from someone you love. It massages your heart. The way I will follow someone to the ends of the earth if they play with my hair... it's the same way the strings of a guitar are to my ears.

Whitney and I caught up with each other. We had a few things we hadn't told each other from the last few days. We found ourselves echoing the aches in each other's hearts. We're both in very similar situations with a few things. She started playing again, playing to the emotions of our conversation. We sat across from each other on her black futon. And at first, it really wasn't coming.

Then it did. And literally wiped us out. I stopped singing. She stopped playing. I couldn't sing anymore. The words I had just written down... the melody I had just sung... the chords that fit like we shared the same fingers attached to the same brain... a song was just written to us. And we were broken by it.

Whitney started playing again. I had to wipe my eyes, covered and closed. I sang in my head and slowly started again. Whitney added her perfect harmony. And we worshipped.

It's not done yet. But it will be soon.

I have a new prayer. I never really thought of it this way... but I'm going to start asking God to write songs to me.

I've never had a song written to me by someone I'm in love with until tonight. How precious, how unearthly... I love to write love songs to the Lord. But it's entirely dumbfounding when the opposite happens. When He writes one to me.

I'm broken by this love. The love that ties up my tongue and makes rivers inside my eyes, and closes up my throat because it's too good to be true. And in the midst of pain and uncertainty, and heartache, His Love makes it all go away.

So I'm going to pray. I want my Love to write songs to me. And I want those songs to be the songs that fill my head, the ones I sing while I'm walking to and from class. The ones I sing while I'm drifting to sleep. And I mean this in both the theoretical sense and the literal sense. I'm a songwriter. But I want the One who created the very idea to write songs to me. It's a bold request. And it's a quest I'm willing to make.

Face plant

This is my 100th blog! Crazy man, just crazy.

I feel like I should blog about something spectacular. We'll see where this blog goes.

Friday was the first Chamber Singers performance. We loaded the buses with the twenty of us, and drove to Indianapolis. For a few hours I shared the same time zone as my friends and family back in Jersey!
Yesterday Trina and I had a roommate date. To the lounge. We had over two pounds of crunchy green grapes and cuddled up in a green blanket and watched Glee. It was wonderfully relaxing. Utterly magnificent.
This week Trina and I set out for Nebraska! Trina is from Nebraska and we're going to visit her family, go to a few football games, and explore corn fields. I've never been to Nebraska. I can't wait to live it up.

Today marks exactly one month since I've been here. I'm not sure about which direction to toss my thoughts. Has time gone slow, or has it gone fast? I'd say a little of both maybe. I'll straddle the line. I'm on the fence. Though there are moments the picket fence snaps on me and I feel time is going way too fast, and not a thought at all to time dragging it's feet... I've been pondering this a little bit lately.

One of my good friends here shared a testimony in church a few weeks ago. He's different. There's something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but he just seemed different. And it all made sense why... it's too big to fit under my finger. God really changed him over the summer. He shared how it happened over about three weeks or so. His challenge to the congregation was, "Don't doubt something because it happened fast. I'm proof that God can do a lot in nearly no time."

Hmmm... it seems so noble to listen to the "good things take time" proverb. We grind these principles into our skin like sand paper. Slow and steady wins the race, but fast and furious falls on his face. Who started that? Who ever, ever, ever said that God works in time restrictions, or only in long stretches? God works apart from time. All the time. We just keep track of it. But time doesn't exist with God. It's just the only way we know how to make sense of things. That's major. We trace God on a timeline, because it's the only way we can make a calculation.

We're limited. Time sticks to us. But if we were to throw a sticky time-ball (I'm making this up. Work with me.) at God, it wouldn't stick. We live so under the impression that time sticks to everything, and forget we serve a timeless God. Everything we touch sticks to time. Like the slime never leaves our hands, and comes through our fingers like oil through our pores after sleeping for 12 hours. If only that weren't such a distant memory...

So here's to say a lot is happening in my life. But it's not too fast. It's just in God's "timing" which is not comparable to ours. The only way I'd fall on my face pedaling to the pace of His time, is if I leave my shoelaces untied.

So I leave you with this. Tie your shoes. And don't be afraid.