Salvation Across The Border

Muddy Jesus by Ian Moore

Jesus lived in a ramshackle shack

with a fat New Orleans junkie

A charismatic cholo soul

Some say was born plain lucky

He'd cruise the streets of Juarez

In his low cut El Dorado

Divine command and oil slick hands 

A brash and bold bravado

Mother Mary said your time has come

The river's wide but can be fought and won

For the very love of God and man

Jesus cross the Rio Grande

Jesus fell in step with a group

of high-powered Federales

Who set him down and formed their plan

through a haze of cold Tecates

Judas said now Jeez I know

you're prone to walk on water

But if you swim downstream

there's a better chance

that you'll make it across the border

Mother Mary said your time has come

The river's wide but can be fought and won

For the very love of God and man 

Jesus cross the Rio Grande

Jesus made his run on a hot

and humid Friday night

But his vision was blinded

by the bright El Paso lights

He never saw the shot

That left him short of freedom's land

But the faithful they're still waiting

for the coming of their man 

Mother Mary said your time has come

The river's wide but can be fought and won

For the very love of God and man 

Jesus cross the Rio Grande

Ian Moore is a memory from my short drinking history. I used to see him play at the Continental Club down on South Congress Avenue in Austin. I would see him standing there before the show, just hanging out. Nobody around him and almost close enough to touch. I could have walked up to him and started a conversation, but I was a 'fraidy-cat. (I also missed out on meeting Lenny Kravitz once just because I was in my PJs. What is wrong with me?) I just admired him from afar and danced like a wild thing when he was singing.

A couple of years later when the song "Muddy Jesus" came out, I remember the little fundamentalist that still ran around in my head saying that Ian should be whipped with a Bible belt for being blasphemous, irreverent, sacrilegious, and five other bad things. The music lover in me was feeling the rhythm of the song move through my body. I think the music lover won. (I did not really want to mess up Ian's good looks by whipping him anyway.)

My Long-Lasting Label

"You are the problem."

I've heard it before. I have heard it all of my life. I heard it again Sunday night. I am not A problem. I am The Problem. That has been my identity since infancy. Being The Problem has great power, if you think about it. I've been able to cause hurt and strife since before I knew those words existed. Who knew children could rule people like that and the adults would be powerless to stop it?

Of course, with great power comes great responsibility. I've had to try to keep up with all of the issues that I've caused and who was hurt by them. The list is extensive. Some of the issues came up without me even being present. Those are the ones that are really hard to keep track of. 

That No-Good Lyin' Cheatin' Stealin' Son of A...

You read that title and thought that I was mad at Hubby or Daddy again, didn't you? Sorry, but no. I have not affixed those labels to either one of them in at least a few weeks (joke - it has been much longer). However, I have been thinking about where those labels come from. They are not God-given names, for sure. They are cheap imitations. How did I get to a point of letting these types of labels seep into my consciousness? 

My Heavenly Father has names for me. He calls me Beloved, Pretty Girl, and sometimes He calls me Rosebud. My loving husband answers all of my phone calls to him with, "Hey, Beautiful!". Daddy still calls me his Brown-Eyed Whippersnapper. Mama called me Sweetie Pie. These are all names born out of love. They are names that I value and appreciate. But most often, they are not how I think of myself.