Jesus
WHO LIVES IN MUD
WORDS BY LUCI MILLER | PHOTOGRAPHY BY RACHEL GOCHNAUER
A FEW DAYS BEFORE EASTER
I stride in boots down the gravel road that
runs past our house, look back at heel prints
left in soft dirt. Water and half-melted snow
pool in ditches. I scoop up a handful of soggy
gravel and smell it, but the peculiar scent of
earthy spring is not in the gravel. In the fields, I
think. Soon. I twist my boot on its heel, grinding it into mud and loving it. Easter will be
here soon. And Jesus lives in mud.
A FEW NIGHTS BEFORE EASTER
One of those rare nights when, due to a spring
snowstorm and cancelled plans, all eight of
us are home and in one place. My two sisters
spread fabric down the center of the living
room floor to cut out dress pieces for sewing.
My brothers and I sprawl on the couches and
chairs, each in our separate world of computer
or Kindle or old-fashioned book.
“Righteous people don’t need Jesus to get to
God,” I announce, into the center of them.
They jerk up and look at me. In my evangelical
Christian family, such a statement is scandalous.
“It’s true. Jesus said, ‘I came not to call the
righteous, but sinners to repentance.’”
They argue with me. “You’re taking that verse
out of context.”
“No, I’m not. That’s what it says. Righteous
people don’t need Jesus.”
“But nobody’s righteous.”
“But some people think they’re righteous.”
Understanding lights one sister’s eyes. “She’s
talking about people like the Pharisees.”
“See? She understands what I mean.”
They are suspicious. “So you’re just saying that
some people are self-righteous and think they
don’t need Jesus?”
“I’m saying that some people think they don’t
need Jesus, and so they don’t need him.”
My brother is disgusted. “Way to make something simple into something complicated.”
But I know that for myself, I am making something complicated into something simple.
SOMETHING COMPLICATED
I used to be confused by Jesus, because I
viewed him as a sort of Holy Wizard pointing to heaven. “Believe on me, or be damned.”
The little phrases found on the back of every
evangelical tract–“ask Jesus into your heart,”
“accept Christ as your personal Savior”–I
unconsciously thought of as magical incantations. “Utter these words in this order and
Voila! you’re saved.” Jesus seemed to me the
height of unfairness. What about the people
who hadn’t heard, or those who were deeply rooted in other religions? Were they to be
damned because of where they were born?
But that was before I began to observe this
whole sodden mass of humanity, before I began to identify with us and to realize the sorry
state we are in. Whatever our race, nationality,
financial status, or religion, we are driven by
a basic selfishness. Not one of us lives up to
our own idea of what is good. We are covered
in sorrow.
We have no need of a Holy Wizard to damn
us. We are already damned.
VIENNA THE RABBIT GIRL
I met Vienna at a recent bridal shower. She
wore a sheer black top, a short glittery mauve
skirt, black hose. She had a small silver ring in
her nose and tiny silver studs on either side of
her eyes, which were made up in heavy black
to appear slanted, like cat’s eyes. She told me
she wore heavy make-up to cover the scars of
a face that had been badly mauled. She was
friendly, vivacious, intelligent.
I met Vienna’s boyfriend, also, before the
8
shower. He asked me questions about being
a Mennonite and told me that he also had a
Christ