Beautiful Mud

I was a loser, drifting through this cursed planet, aimlessly weaving through broken promises.

I was a proud star, scaling the heights of shattered commandments, tip-toeing across sharp pieces of broken trust.

I was a loose cannon, a loud cymbal, a lost cause.

Love was not a word in my life-tionary, even though it dominated my diction-ary.

As brown as dirt, as wavering as dust, as shifty as sand, as hardened as the land.

My life was tainted.

My hope had fainted.

My patience was overdue.

My purity was colloidal.

My morality was unzippered.

My intellect was uncapped and my integrity was intermittent.

I was a sinner to the core, a pile of evil strutting under the veil of religion…

Until the day I came across the river. “River of life” I heard them call it. I approached it, even though I was no swimmer. Weighed down by guilt and blinded by shame, I weighed my options….

My odds were worse than I had thought. I had two options: to die now or to die later.

Indeed, I had no choice. It seemed my fate was already sealed. Stranded at the intersection of the man I was and the man I could be, I took the plunge!

Who could have predicted the joy?

Who could have perceived the peace?

Who could have pondered the transformation?

As each particle of dust and dirt succumbed to the awesome forces of the healing water, I felt my frail, fickle and filthy self slowly dissolve into beautiful mud! His Grace washed over me as His Spirit seeped through my skin, permeating deep inside to my bone and marrow.

So now… here I am, broken, all wet and slimy, placed upon the potter’s wheel. His hand at work is a transformed handiwork, a new creature is being formed. I stand amazed as each touch from the Master transforms me into His perfect image!

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Nifinyange, ewe Bwana. Kwani wewe ndiwe mfinyanzi mkuu.

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Take this broken pottery and transform it into perfect poetry.

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Cornell