THE NEXUS BETWEEN TRADITIONAL MENTORSHIP & MODERN MENTORSHIP_ BY BISHOP SAHR ISAAC PETERSON

I grew up in my boyhood with a quiet belief sitting in my chest, the kind of belief every young lad around me also carried without saying it out loud. We called it respect. We called it loyalty. But what it really was, was Traditional Mentorship. 

In those days mentorship did not come with contracts or flyers. It came with time. You attached yourself to an elder, a boss, a teacher, a man or woman you admired, and you stayed. You swept their compound. You carried their books. You listened when they talked, even when you did not understand half of it. You were committed, focused, and present. And you did not ask for money. 

Some of us even rejected money when it was offered. Not because we were proud, but because we knew why we were there. We were not there to make money. We were there to learn a trade, to learn character, to learn how to live. Maybe it was because civilization had not yet taught us to calculate everything. Maybe it was because life was simpler and we had fewer worries than the young people of this generation. Or maybe it was because we understood, even as boys, that the hardest lessons are the ones that stay with you the longest. And we learned the hard way. We watched. We waited. We failed and tried again. And through it all, the elder poured into us.

Now, look at today. We have a different idea of mentorship. We still use the same word, but the meaning has shifted. Modern Mentorship, as we practice it now, comes with expectations. It comes with logos and banners and WhatsApp messages that say “I need quick assistance.” It comes with the assumption that because someone is ahead of you, they are responsible for pulling you forward, financially, socially, and emotionally. 

I have heard young people say it plainly. “My mentor is not helping me.” “My mentor is doing well but has not done anything for me.” As if mentorship is a salary. As if the role of a mentor is to fund your life. And when the mentor is doing well and the mentee is still struggling, there is quiet bitterness. There is distance. There is blame. 

This new system is not completely wrong. We live in hard times. Money matters. Opportunity matters. But I worry that we have normalized something that is eating the root of real growth. We have made mentorship transactional. And when transactions fail, relationships break.

Let me tell you a short story so you can see what I mean.

On Wednesday, 29th July this year, I lost my phone. It happened in the middle of urgency, right in the course of service. You know how it is when you are committed to being in the house of the Lord. Your mind is on God, on the people, on the work. That was me that Wednesday. I was present, ready, and serving. But by the time I reached the entrance of the church, I reached for my pocket and the phone was gone. 

My heart sank. A phone is not just a gadget here. It is contact. It is work. It is how people reach you, how you reach others. I felt the worry rise, but I did not leave. I stayed through the entire service. I sat, I prayed, I focused. And when my G.O. called me to take the microphone for the rest of the program, I did it. That is self-control. That is commitment. The work does not stop because your personal life has a hole in it.

After service, my G.O. called me to his office. I thought maybe he would ask about the phone, maybe offer a word of comfort, maybe even a small help. Instead, he began to tell stories. Story after story. He told me about men of God who had lost valuable things. He told me about a lawyer, a man of high standing, who went to buy food and came back to find his jeep gone. He painted the picture so well I could see the man standing in the parking lot, confused. Then he told me about his pastor friend. They had spent a good day together, laughing and talking, and later that same day the pastor lost a bag. Inside that bag were multiple iPhones, dollars that belonged to church members, and two computers. 

He kept talking. And I kept listening, because I believed I needed to hear it. I believed there was a lesson in it for me. By the time he finished, I had almost forgotten my own missing phone. But here is the part that matters. At the end of all those stories, there was no offer of money. No “Bishop, take this so you can get another phone.” No extension of a hand to cushion the loss. We prayed, we talked, and we parted for our homes that evening.

The next day I went to another man I respect deeply. A Bishop. A man I admire beyond measure. Like my G.O., he also encouraged me. He gave me sound words. He gave me direction. He prayed for me. And as I was leaving, he gave me transport money. I received it with gratitude. Every word he said, I took to heart.

When I got home, the reality of being without a phone pressed on me again. Being offline in this time is like being cut off. So I stood up and went to see a senior teacher. A man who has also advised me over the years. 

He was busy when I arrived, teaching his boys. He was cracking jokes, moving around the class. When I finally told him my phone was stolen, he stopped for a moment. Then he told me to wait. He went inside and came back with cash in his hand. It was two million old Leones. Two thousand new Leones. My mouth opened. I was not expecting it. “Go and add something to this and buy another phone,” he said. “You’re too important to be offline.” 

I left him with a full heart.

On my way back I entered a keke and met a friend. I told him what had happened. He was shocked. He could not believe it. Then he said, “Come with me to Congo Cross.” We went together to where he was going to collect some money. And before we parted, he also gave me one thousand five hundred new Leones. 

That is how, piece by piece, I was able to get a new phone. The very phone I am using now to write to you.

Now, you may be asking why I am telling you all of this. You may think I am trying to expose people. I am not. My intention is not to name and shame, and not to compare who gave and who did not. My concern is mentorship. 

Because the question sitting in my mind is this: Does it mean that because my G.O. did not give me money to buy a new phone, especially since the loss happened during church service, that he is no longer my mentor? Does it mean that because the Bishop only gave me transport and not phone money, that I should stop going to him? 

The answer in my heart is no. 

Mentorship is not only about money assistance. 

But that is exactly how many of our young people think today. If you do not give, you are not a real mentor. If you do not respond with cash, you have failed. And so we are losing something. We are losing the replicas of great men and women. We are losing the foundation of growth and leadership. 

Everyone wants a quick chat around money. It is happening in the secular space. It is happening in the church. Go anywhere and you will hear complaints. “My leader did not help me.” “My mentor is selfish.” “They have money but they don’t care.” 

But no one is to be blamed for your misfortune. If someone chooses to help you, that is grace. If they choose to advise you instead, that is also grace. To force help, to expect it as a right, is to misunderstand what mentorship is. And that is one of the reasons we are seeing mentorship collapse around us.

Traditional Mentorship was slow. It was inconvenient. It asked you to give your time before you received anything. It taught you patience, loyalty, and how to carry disappointment without bitterness. Modern Mentorship is faster. It is more open. It has more access. But it also carries a lot of malaise. It has taught a generation to measure love by what is given, and to measure value by what is received.

I am not saying money is bad. Money is needed. I was grateful for every Le one that came to me. The teacher who gave me two thousand new Leones did not have to. The friend in the keke did not have to. The Bishop who gave me transport did not have to. Their kindness lifted me. But I am also grateful for my G.O. who sat me down and told me stories until I forgot my pain. That too was help. That too was mentorship.

We need both. We need the hand that gives, and the voice that teaches. We need the person who says “here is something for your need,” and the person who says “sit down, let me tell you what I have learned.” 

The problem comes when we only want one and reject the other. When we only run to mentors for money and run away from them when they offer wisdom. When we save numbers in our phone for fame, not for growth. When we collect contacts like trophies instead of relationships.

Young people, hear me. No one owes you their money. No one owes you their time. If they give it, receive it with thanksgiving. If they do not, do not call them a bad mentor. Ask yourself what you are learning, not just what you are receiving. 

We have to change our mindset. We have to move away from too much money consciousness and return to the creed of real mentorship. The kind that forms character. The kind that stays when there is nothing to give. The kind that corrects you in private and celebrates you in public. The kind that my elders gave me, and that I am still trying to give to those who come after me.

I sat almost an hour writing these lines to you. Not because I was paid. Not because someone asked me to. But because I am passionate about this generation. I am passionate about Sierra Leone. I am passionate about the fact that we can be better if we learn how to relate to one another rightly.

As we have entered this new month of August 2026, I pray for you. May God bless your going out and your coming in. May He open doors that no man can shut. May He protect you from those who plan evil. May He shift every closed business and every delayed success in your life. May you not lack. Remember that you are God’s diadem. But also remember that holiness and righteousness matter. Love your neighbor as yourself. Do not fight for yourself. Be prayerful and purposeful. And lean not on your own understanding.

Do not miss church tomorrow. Go. Serve. Learn. Even if your phone is missing. Even if your pocket is light. Show up. Because showing up is also part of mentorship. It is part of discipline. It is part of growth.

We can rebuild this thing. We can bring back the honor of mentorship. Not by demanding, but by becoming. Not by complaining, but by committing. 

Thank you for reading. I know it was a long journey through these pages. But if you made it to the end, then you are the kind of person who still believes in depth, and I am grateful for you.

Until Satan repents,

© Bishop Sahr Isaac Peterson

A Creative Writing Coach  

English Consultant  

100 Most Influential Youth Leaders Award Nominee, West Africa  

Sierra Leone  

Students and Youths Advocate