Jess Boctor

Tag: faith

  • The Matter of Language and Why It Matters

    “But I’m on knees, raw heart bare feet.

    I’ll do what you say.

    Just speak to me, and I’ll agree.

    Have your way.”

    I don’t know how many times I have felt this way. Bowed before a God who is greater than me and begging for answers, a whisper, a direction. As a follower Christ, I find these words are deeply relateable and clear to understand.

    But what if you aren’t a follower of Christ?

    Kate Truka, who wrote these words as part of the first verse to her song Falling, found herself in a sticky situation when she debuted the song for a group of peers who didn’t know Christ. She related to me her embarrassment when she realized–mid song–that her audience didn’t understand these words as an act of faith. They understood them as an act of a very different kind.

    I have run into this problem myself. I once worked at an Irish pub where the employees controlled iTunes and the playlists for their shifts. I added a few songs from my favorite faith based bands. One of these songs was Break Me Down by Tenth Avenue North. One day as I was singing along, I realized how easily their chorus could be misunderstood.

    “I’m Yours tonight

    I’m Yours if You can break me down

    Break through these walls I hide behind

    I’m Yours tonight

    Come and break me down

    Won’t You break me down

    Break me down, oh

    Come and break me down

    ‘Cause I need Your strength to feel this weak

    I need Your touch to feel my need”

        As I pondered how this song could be interpreted other than as a cry for God’s presence, I began to wonder what the effect of these words would be on an individual who had no context in which to interpret them. The quality of the the songs draws them in, but without an understanding of the message, would they see the direction which these words point? Is the language which we use as followers of Christ misleading?

        Now, I know God is bigger than any of us and He can use any medium to reach those whom He wishes to draw to himself. I also know He often uses us, the flawed church, as His vessels to reach those people. So, wouldn’t make it easier on all of us if we speak in a language which is understandable?

    Continuing the adventure,

    Jess

  • Our Father #26daysofprayer

    These two words are some of the hardest for me to grapple with as a Christian.

    Our Father.

    My Father. 

    I don’t understand it. I don’t understand why a God who can create an ever expanding universe would care about being my dad. Why he would care about me in the ways described throughout the bible. He knit me together, gifted me, breathed life into me, has watched the well’s depth of tears that I have cried, seen my brightest moments and knows my inner defeats and has counted every hair on my head. 

    Why?

    This question of why comes from hurts which have occurred in my life (none of which we inflicted by my human father). It is a question which Satan uses to push me into a place of pain and has taught me to run from my Father. There are many walls which have been built upon the question of “why” in my life, and I know this is the first place that needs healing.

    So please pray for me that I would be protected from Satan as I begin this journey. Pray that I will begin to have peace in the fact that I don’t deserve an answer to why from the God which created the universe. Pray that I will begin to heal and see our Father with a new perspective. 
    Continuing the adventure, 

    Jess

  • Broken of Ambivalence

    Yesterday, our church met for this first time in our new building. Not just any new building, but OUR new building. Our church has been homeless for 12 years, wandering from the hospitality of one location to the next, schlepping and hooking 400 chairs with us as we went. This summer alone we have met in three different locations.

    My attitude when I woke up Sunday morning can be best described as meh.

    You see, God made me to be a wanderer. As a child I was deemed to be a “bag lady” always prepped with whatever four Lego pieces, doll outfit, snippet of string and the color of the moment crayon which I thought I would need all tucked into a small bag ready to go at a moments notice. As I have gotten older, I still have Gypsy soul which always searches the horizon for where my next adventure lies. Currently, I carry in my mind a mental check list of those things which I need to accomplish in order to become a mobility cheetah; ready to spring at any opportunity which comes in my sight.

    So as my church has gone through the arduous task of searching for, purchasing, and renovating a building to call home I have not had much emotional investment. It is mostly a fact to me that we needed a building of our own. I could clearly see the time and creative benefits of not having to set up and tear down a sanctuary each and every week. The money which Paul and I gave was God’s already, so giving it up in answer to the call of funding has been more of another bill to me. I just checked it off every month; utilities, rent, school loans, and building fund.

    Even as I was writing prayers for the church which would be sheltered in the sanctuaries walls, I couldn’t quite catch the bug of enthusiasm that was buzzing in the air. It was just a building, just concrete and rebar, and wood. I didn’t understand.

    So now we are back to Sunday morning, when the pieces started to make a bigger picture. Seeing all of the people who have become my spiritual family housed in one sanctuary set the corner edge. Worshiping with our band, and knowing that we could use as many lights and amps as we wanted because it was our stage started forming the border. Our pastors message, reminding the congregation of the many miracles God had done to bring us to this place filled in the outer edges. The quiet whispers of God in my ear, reminding me that while He made me to wander He made others to set down roots and there is purpose in us all, started giving the image pattern.

    But the final piece, the one that makes the whole picture make sense, is a teenager in shabby clothes holding a worn out pillow case. He timidly accepts the piece of candy which I offer him, eyes full of doubt that it might all be a trick. The evening after our first service in our new building, we hosted Trunk or Treat, a free event in which people from our church decorate their cars and hand out candy. We invited our new neighbors to the event, and we had an amazing turn out. It was humbling to watch the reactions of those who didn’t know who we were, these crazy people dressed up in funny outfits with random decorations strewn across our cars. All laughing, all smiling and handing out candy, to the confusing amazement of people who may not receive many maniac acts of kindness like my church doles out.

    Jesus was a wanderer. Often times, it is this fact which reminds me that I am on the right track, that I don’t need a nest or a fox hole, I just need to keep following Jesus. However, much of Jesus’ ministry was dependent on the hospitality of those who put down roots. People who built homes, who stocked their pantries and then offered those homes and pantries up to God. Where would Mary Magdalen be if a pharisee had not opened their home to Jesus? Where would the timid teenager have been Sunday night if we had not built a home for our church?

    I have learned my lesson. I was not made to set down roots, I am like dandelion seeds which sail the wind. However, I know that whenever the air grows still, I have a family of oaks which I can rest under. Thank you for setting down your roots.
    Continuing the adventure, 

    Jess