Jess Boctor

Author: Jess Boctor

  • The Story

    My small group is going through Crazy Love by Francis Chan. As I was reading through the first chapter, this statement stuck out to me, “God’s art speaks of Himself, reflecting who He is and what He is like.”

    So the thought which seems natural to follow is my art should do the same.

    As this thought is tumbling through the back of my mind, Chan continues on describing the glory of God. He uses Revelation 4 and Isaiah 6 for his example, putting together a verbal image of the throne room of God. In my mind, I tried to picture the image, and what kept catching my eye are the Seraphim. The winged beasts covered with eyes, who use their wings to cover their face and never stop declaring, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty!”

    Could I do that?

    I have a hard enough time trusting that God is really who the bible describes Him to be without seeing Him. Would I be able to stand in His presence, cover my face from seeing Him and still declare His glory?

    My pride tells me the answer is no. I have struggled and wrestled with this issue. You see, I believe God created us with purpose and design. Naturally, this leads me to believe we should live this purpose and design out. Here is the space where Satan so often tries sneak in. It may be because I am a words of affirmation person. It may be because I am a middle child. It may be because I am crazy. I never feel like people notice. I always feel like if I can just fulfill my destiny, then…then they will notice.

    What kind of destiny is that? Sounds a little Anakin Skywalker to me. 

    You see, my purpose and design is to bring glory to God. Not to myself. As much as I struggle with the thoughts of “If I am living out who God made me to be, then why shouldn’t I reap the benefits?” I have to recognize it is a slippery slope between reaping the blessings of God and living for the Harvest. 

    As I was laying in bed last night, I think I was able to finally put into words how I understand God’s concern for His glory, in my own small way. It looks like this:

    God wants humanity to know who He is.
    God is glorious.
    It is my job to let that glory be shown through me, so humanity knows who he is.

    So lets get back to the tumbling art and the Seraphim. I decided I needed something to remind myself of the posture which I need to take when approaching God: to cover my eyes, to have no expectations, and to declare His glory. So I carved these rubber stamps, my interpretation of the Seraphim. I look forward to using them to make journals and other art in a hope to to point others to the lesson which I am trying so hard to learn; to point them to the glory of God.

    Continuing the adventure, 

    Jessie

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  • Story to Follow #novemberblogfest

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    Continuing the adventure, 

    Jessica 

  • Robin: common European songbird

    What do I want to be when I grow up? 

    The same thing I have always wanted to be; a singer.

    So why aren’t I? 

    To be honest, I never thought I was good enough. My earliest memory of trying to be a singer, a musician who shared with the world my creation was from the first grade. It was time for the schools talent show, so with the help of my mom I wrote a few verses, came up with a melody and set my foot to the path with expectations for greatness. What happened?  An older girl who had seen my practise made a simple off hand remark about how she couldn’t hear me very well. My infant soul wasn’t ready for its offering to be criticized. I was crushed and never went back to the talent show.

    A grade or so later my class put on the Wizard of Oz. Afraid to compete with the other girls who I thought were prettier than me, and therefore more suited to the role of Dorthy, I sidestepped and played the Cowardly Lion. Don’t get me wrong, I was an excellent Cowardly Lion, but looking back it is comical to realize just how fitting the role really was. At least I did sing, louder than many of the other kids.

    In fifth grade I took voice lessons, but being undisciplined and still self doubting I quit after only a few short months because I thought it was a waste of my parents money.

    In junior high I joined choir. This would be a musical safe harbor for the next six years of my life. I loved choir, I loved the rush of performing, I loved being on stage and singing. I even loved the God awful dresses we had to wear. Yet, even the calm waters my shadow of fear was always with me, whispering every time I was passed up for a solo or one of my choir mates looked at me funny. At both my junior high and high schools I was in the “best” choirs but always felt like I was the loser who just barely made it past the velvet ropes. I remember the first few weeks of my junior year being terrified as I went to class each day. Feeling ashamed and awkward that I didn’t belong, even though my audition had clearly showed I did. Even though there was no where else I wanted to be. With encouragement and time it got a little easier, a little.

    My senior year, I decided to put my effort into my music. Up until now Choir was one of a dozen extra curricular activities I did. I cleared out my schedule, got a job and paid for my voice lessons. I went faithfully and was even rewarded with my own solo at our spring show. I decided to be gutsy and auditioned for the School of Music at Cal State Long Beach, and I was rejected. I took this rejection to be a final seal on my destiny and I quite my voice lessons. I still have the letter.

    Since then I have played with singing here and there. Took a semester of choir in college. I sang for the kids at my church for a while, I still sing chords when I can remember. Earlier this year a friend and I dabbled in writing our own songs. I lived off the high for weeks. All my heart really wants to do is sing.

    It is another proof of Gods impeccable timing that this topic came up in the #novemberblogfest today. You see, in the back of my mind I have had a different whisper lately, one that tells me not to give up, one to ask for what my heart really wants. One that tells me to start praying for a band.

    I had toyed with the idea of sharing this, and had decided against it. I thought it would be silly. Just another experience of putting my heart out there without reciprocation. I was going to let my fear win, yet again. This amazing thing that Novemberblogfest has become has required authenticity and honesty which I would never have expected, and to answer the question of what I want to be with any answer other than a musician would be a lie.

    As far as starting a band goes, it would be a dream come true to have someone to journey along with. I offer my love of singing, an alto-soprano vocal range and a poetic soul. I am after all, Jessica Robin; a common European songbird.
    Continuing the adventure, 

    Jess

  • Who I am via Meyers-Briggs #novemberblogfest

    I have taken the Meyers-Briggs a couple of times before and I have always come out a faithful INFP, a healer. At Sean’s request, and just to make sure, I took the test again today and apparently I have changed. I came out and INFJ, possibly only because I am trying to be like all the cool kids, possibly because there is a difference in the way the test was given, or maybe because I had brownies with lunch today. Who knows?

    After reading both of the descriptions there are parts I agree with from both. 

    From the INFP Healer:

    Also, Healers might well feel a sense of separation because of their often misunderstood childhood. Healers live a fantasy-filled childhood-they are the prince or princess of fairy tales-an attitude which, sadly, is frowned upon, or even punished, by many parents. With parents who want them to get their head out of the clouds, Healers begin to believe they are bad to be so fanciful, so dreamy, and can come to see themselves as ugly ducklings. In truth, they are quite OK just as they are, only different from most others-swans reared in a family of ducks.

    From the INFJ, Counselor:

    Blessed with vivid imaginations, Counselors are often seen as the most poetical of all the types, and in fact they use a lot of poetic imagery in their everyday language. Their great talent for language-both written and spoken-is usually directed toward communicating with people in a personalized way. Counselors are highly intuitive and can recognize another’s emotions or intentions – good or evil – even before that person is aware of them. Counselors themselves can seldom tell how they came to read others’ feelings so keenly. This extreme sensitivity to others could very well be the basis of the Counselor’s remarkable ability to experience a whole array of psychic phenomena.

    And there are parts I don’t agree with so much:

    From INFP:

    Healers have a profound sense of idealism that comes from a strong personal sense of right and wrong. They conceive of the world as an ethical, honorable place, full of wondrous possibilities and potential goods. In fact, to understand Healers, we must understand that their deep commitment to the positive and the good is almost boundless and selfless, inspiring them to make extraordinary sacrifices for someone or something they believe in. Set off from the rest of humanity by their privacy and scarcity, Healers can feel even more isolated in the purity of their idealism.

    From INFJ:

    Counselors are scarce, little more than three percent of the population, and can be hard to get to know, since they tend not to share their innermost thoughts or their powerful emotional reactions except with their loved ones. They are highly private people, with an unusually rich, complicated inner life. Friends or colleagues who have known them for years may find sides emerging which come as a surprise. Not that Counselors are flighty or scattered; they value their integrity a great deal, but they have mysterious, intricately woven personalities which sometimes puzzle even them.

    So here is the fun challenge: from reading my blog and interacting with me (via twitter, face to face, email, whatever) what do you think? Healer or Counselor?

    Continuing the adventure,

    Jessi

  • E is for Escapism and Eternity

    When I am in my darkest places, all I want to do is escape.

    Pretty soon, I find that escapism is my escape. Day dreaming of just what I would do if my life was different. If maybe I hadn’t gotten married. If I had pursued the music degree. If I had not done this, if I had done this. If some crazy event completely altered the path I am on.

    If….

    It is the beginning of every fantasy and one of the most dangerous words. IF can conjure up some really amazing adventures and story lines. If can lead to discontentment. If steals your moments from you.

    There is one lesson I feel God has been trying to hammer into my skull this past year, to live in the moment. To stay in the present without giving up my dreams and without compromising on the bigger picture which God has given me.

    If pushes me out side of the present. If helps me escape from the present, instead of living it out.

    However, God made us for eternity. How would we escape from eternity? How would we look forward for a way out?

    Why would we want to?

    I have to admit, I am not much of a heaven focused person. I cringe at the thought of spending forever tied up in precious moments wings. I would be the angel with the crooked halo and holes in my nightie.

    However, there is a promise that I hang onto, one that makes me excited for an eternity with my savior; one day there will be no more tears.

    That is an eternity I can look forward too.

    Continuing the adventure, 

    Jess

  • V is for victory. #novemberblogfest

    The battle has already been won.

    It doesn’t mean the trenches are any less grueling, but it does mean that we are fighting with a purpose. To bring to fruition the victory which has been promised us.

    The victory against a broken world. Against a broken soul.

    So fight one. As I told a friend this week, the battle against the darkness is best fought when we fight together. I am in the trenches with you, ready to take the charge.

    O death, where is your sting? 1st Corinthians 15:55

    I was looking for a Hillsong version which we sing at church, but I like this one better.
    Continuing the adventure, 

    Jess

  • O is for Opaque and Optimism

    I found this blog entry from a few years back, it was probably one of the darkest periods of my depression I had ever gone through. Rereading the post reminded me of one of the most dangerous symptoms of depression: becoming opaque. Here is an excerpt from the post to illustrate what I mean:

    “The next struggle is to not pretend that I haven’t been crying. Most days I act like nothing has happened and plaster on the “Happy-go-lucky-my-heart-isn’t-really-broken” smile. It kills me each and every time but it is easier then dealing with reality, it is easier then telling people how I really feel and it is most definitely easier then connecting with a God who wants to heal me. Why is it easier? Because if I connect with a God who wants to heal me then I have to admit that something is wrong and it hurts so much…it just does.”

    Something which is opaque cannot been seen through, it is impenetrable to light, it does not shine. Depression makes me opaque; I build walls so people cannot see who I  really am. I don’t let the light of Christ penetrate into my life. I stop shinning. I cover myself in a thick skin, and learn to smile over the pain. I feel people often don’t believe that depression is a real struggle for me because I have become so good at learning to grin and bare it. There is danger there. 

    The danger is that there cannot be healing in solitude. The mask will eventually begin to chafe, and adds to the pain. People who genuinely care for you become thorns in your side because you wont’, you cant, share what is really going on inside. How can you explain that you would rather sleep then face the sunlight? How do you explain that getting dressed was an accomplishment today? How do you tell your husband, your parents, your friends that all you really want is to leave because you think starting over may be the only way to escape the pain?

    How do you share the darkest part of your soul?

    You can’t. There aren’t really words to explain it. Every time you try to give definition to what hurts, it shifts. It changes, and you don’t have a logical, reasonable or even plausible explanation as to why. So you hide it. You cover it up, coating yourself in fake smiles, assurances that “I’m fine”, and normal life. You die in your own creation. 

    I have learned the only way to fight is with optimism.

    Not happy simplistic, “The sun will come out tomorrow”. 

    You have to have genuine hope that someday you will be healed. Optimism which takes root and leads to action, maybe to get counseling (which I went through for year, and then returned to last spring). Optimism which lets you share with someone what you are going through. Optimism which allows you to really believe the world won’t end if you begin to peel away the layers. Optimism which allows the light of Christ to begin its healing work, which allows who you were meant to be to shine through.

    Optimism which helps you to remember you really aren’t alone.

    Continuing the adventure, 

    Jess