By Charles G. Tiah
It took several years to remake this man.
Too many of me burned in the SMITH’s hearth
And the ego cut off in the MIGHTY POTTER’s PALM.
Now losses have transformed to inner might,
The first beatitude should we inherit Earth.
My craving not for world’s wealth, but for
Christ all pleasures traded – call them dead!
Through failures and gains, through loss to GOD,
Grave sins of self-ruled life; preyed by Devil’s tricks
But His grace had me made it through it all to this day.
I sit in the frost of this dawn and reminisce:
At age 8, in early childhood we lived a life full of honey-crumb.
Renney, Kollie, Bassau, Siakor; St. Martin school made a big part of me.
Mama and Mommy loves fill my world. And Papa’s
cares overflowed but less part of him was with us. It seemed he
always looked outside.
Even in the house he appeared standing looking through
And the POTTER was weaving….
At age 12 Step-Mommy passed. I missed her. Joyous life. Was chooked.
And I bled inside. In minutes, a replacee was ushered
from the queues. Thousands of dollars was lavished monthly on
face powders, nails polish, and mascaras.
Compute the other wastes on clothing, home bar, dinners, outdoor funs.
The story ended as all other would do. And the awful transition
from honey crumb began.
We swamped in a sea of wilderness back and forth exile
with the promised-land barely in sight. Sisters lived to peers’ rhythm.
Mama often roared and seemed to wear the traditional lens:
girls are women at age 14. This made me simmer with anger inside.
Yet, sweet experiences included a life of
martial arts, football, company with cousin Junior.
And the POTTER was molding….
At age 16, I galloped into adolescent life ill-prepared
Social winds was tensed in Montserrado and our world was
shattered with mixed pleasures: nicom products. A taste of
marijuana. Teens hit-and-run sex game were our “fun thing.”
Eman, Patsy, X-Zibit, Joshua, Mercy, J. Solo, Rufus, Dennis, Isaac,
Rebecca, Ericson, and Mcintosh, Paynesville AGM, and Billie Call
Schools all made that “me.”
Yet, Sweet experiences included a life of modeling, martial arts,
football, movie-making, high school journalism, scholastic display
in discourses, poetry and reading.
And the POTTER was knocking….
At age 19, the climb to young adulthood was tensely steep-forces,
pulling me back from fixed focus. Passion for newly-found morals
contradicted by peers’ rules. Then the raising actions began peaking
to a climax. I spent hours in solitude, soliloquizing with wishful muses
and prayers made with a half-believing heart, seeking but wavering,
often drifting. Soon I launched into career path: salesmanship
and dispensing in pharmacy but hated the act. Took the chalk, a loved field.
And we stood for others, advocating, mobilizing…
Uncle Gus, Henry, Rickey, Mark, Boakai, Amos, Bopolu Central High,
Federation of Liberian Youth, Ministry of Youth and Sports,
All made that part of me.
And the POTTER was still knocking….
I was still seeking, wavering, often drifting, and then launched
the search: fame. Status. Money. And then god. God…GOd…and finally GOD.
Mommy Abigail was the vessel used.
And the POTTER that saves was regenerating….
When my heart turned its door open and Christ came in: craved for purity…
detachment from money….Yet the old struggled with the New.
The Old Serpent raged, roared, tormented me at all sides
But now he is so faint, laying overdosed by the Spirit’s Fire within.
Only GOD’s Grace that preserves.
And the POTTER is transforming, Sanctifying….
When I look behind and see the steps: nursery. Elementary.
High school. College. Trainings. And volunteer. Teacher. Assistant. Officer.
Manager. Consultant and specialist. Preacher.
When I look inward I appreciate the notes: The Potter’s Palm is a refinery.
His culture: holiness, righteous, obedience, humility.
His gifts: salvation; the Indwelling Spirit and imputed righteousness;
Faith; Grace for service;
Peace in crisis; Fruits of the Spirit and ambition to soldier the Word.
And the POTTER’s Equipping and Launching…