Posts Tagged ‘Sara Thompson’

Comfortable chaos

Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Tragedy is a part of life, but it shouldn’t be.

Sara Thompson
Bachelor of Arts (communication) student
Avondale College of Higher Education

Only four weeks ago, news of the Boston Marathon bombings spread around the world, particularly as images from the fateful event filled our screens and tugged at our hearts. But our lives go on as usual.

It isn’t the first tragedy we’ve seen. Death from natural disasters, mass killings and wars have become an accepted part of life in the 21st century. But what about the loss of life that doesn’t make it to the news bulletins? What about the hundreds who die of starvation, from lack of clean water, from abuse and from human trafficking every day? I know, we’ve heard these tales of woe before, but that doesn’t make them any less real.

Perhaps it’s worth mentioning that life isn’t meant to be like this.

Of course, you say. One day Jesus will return and make it all better. But as we go on as usual, the idea of “one day” fades into the distance and we settle back into our antediluvian lives. We’ve accepted a chaotic, tragic world as normal. We’ve forgotten it isn’t our home.

Sometimes I find myself viewing God as an aloof authority figure rather than an intimate and loving heavenly Father who is so deeply involved in our lives. Death is not a statistic to Him; everything that happens in this world makes an impact on Him. He’s mourning the loss of His children, and not just the ones in Western countries, the ones who have names and faces, but those who suffer, seemingly forgotten, out of our view.

If He knows when a sparrow falls, then how much grief must He experience when His own children cause each other so much pain? How much must He be longing to return and end this suffering?

Tragedy is a part of life, but it shouldn’t be.

The least

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

I am silent, broken, fragile

Sara Thompson
Bachelor of Arts (Communication) student
Avondale College of Higher Education

 

I am
Silent
Ghost in a room of Pharisee-like convention
Quiet observer of the holiness I cannot ever
Hope to obtain
For my clothes are not like yours, and while my
Heart, is open
For me there is no room.

I am
Broken
Mere fragments of the innocence once bestowed
Torn from the dreams I wanted as much as you, yours
The child beside me your judgement call
Shaking heads and whispered words
Shadows of redemption, of which I am not worthy
For I will never be good enough.

I am
Fragile
Hidden by a mask you care not to question
Taunted by my mistakes, troubled by truths hidden under the
Lies
Bruised by the world
Is there no rest for the weary in this place?
For I am invisible to your self-righteous hearts.

I am
The widow and the fatherless
The crippled and the blind
broken and weary
chained and forgotten

I Am
The least of these.

I AM.

This poem won the Signs Publishing Company Prize for best original written piece at the Manifest Creative Arts Festival this year.

www.artsmanifest.info