beggars night

they stand on our souls’ porches,

clothed in poverty, fear,

hunger, homelessness; will

we trick them with empty words

or treat them to life, hope, and grace?

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

it's monday

it’s Monday . . .

shall we slip into fear’s shadows

   or walk side-by-side with faith;

shall we utter bitter rhetoric,

   or whisper of hope;

shall we tighten our fists in anger,

   or open our hands to grasp

   those of the broken?

it’s Monday . . .

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

if

if we speak words of welcome,

not rejection;

if we offer love, not hate;

if we live in faith, not fear;

if we clothe ourselves in hope,

not hubris,

we can begin to heal

your broken heart, weeping God.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

dulled

when dreich seeps into

our souls, you draw us up on

your lap, singing of

hope, wonder, and laughter

‘til we doze off in your arms

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

flawed

in a time when grace

is seen as weakness, may it

become my strongest

character flaw, rather than

hiding it behind my fears.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

rise and shine

convinced dread’s dust bunnies

are waiting to nip at our ankles,

we lie in bed quivering, then

you run Spirit’s vacuum

over every inch of the room,

reminding us, “I’ve told you

not to be afraid, ever!”

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

game on

in this hidden object game

we call life, all the foolish answers

are so obvious they can’t be missed,

while grace, hope, peace, welcome

seem to take a long, long time to

spot.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

dusty

like a dog on the back seat,

first sticking its head out

one window, then the other,

you try to show us how

to delight in the wonders around us,

but we are too focused on our devices

and roll up the windows to stop

your annoying joy.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

pick-me-up

in the bleariness

of Monday, may your Spirit

energize us more

than those foamy lattes

or gulps of 5-hour caffeine.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

seasons

whether we are drifting

like the leaves towards autumn,

or seeing spring’s new growth

bursting around us, we are

surrounded by the wonder

of your amazing creation.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

fb

remind us that the

gospel isn’t a fake account

hacking into our

lives, but the very grace, hope,

and peace we are longing for.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

purrbaby

curled up next to us.

the Spirit purrs gently ‘til

we wake up to grace.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

voice

where once i longed

to be a social butterfly, now

make me an advocate

for those society never notices.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman  

more like you

i give thanks, O God,

that you are more compassionate

then i will ever be (especially)

toward those who don’t deserve

it, (like me)

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

turning to the headlines

we turn on the news and,

once again, it is troubles,

fears, dangers, worries, anger;

so let us be the hope

   others want to find this morning;

let us be the voice of grace

   strangers long to hear;

let us be the love

   that embraces the forgotten

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

crofter

at the bazaar, you set
up the table of hand-crafted grace,
each price tag reading 'no charge'

(c) 2018 Thom M. Shuman

golden

when we are convinced

the gospel is a shaggy

dog story, your grace

comes loping across the fields

of folly to retrieve us.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

  

tbt

on throwback Thursday,

may we return to those days

when civility was not the exception,

and to those places where folks

were welcomed, not excluded.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

labels

we slap labels on

people all through the day, and

you come through each night,

peeling them off, hoping we

might see folks for who they are.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

  

shattered

in shattering moments when

dreams and hopes die,

remind us that there is

a resurrection waiting, so

give us the patience to wait,

and the courage to keep living.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

tzaddik

O God, instead of

tantrum-laced leaders,

may we listen to tzaddiks

who can lead us

into your hopes for

justice and grace.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

this day

on this day

i will not listen to the voices

of hubris, triumph, and ridicule;

but pause to hear

the tears of hungry children,

the broken souls of the ignored,

the anger of the kept down,

and the whispers of hope

swirling and swirling until they become

a whirlwind of justice scattering

those with hearts hard as nails

who stand in its path.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

  

  

pilgrim

help us to make those

pilgrimages to places

and folks that scare us,

so that we can receive the

grace we would not offer them.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

baker

it’s not the flavor

of salt we’ve lost these days, but

the yeast of kindness.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

humpty

on the day many

have trouble getting over

life’s humps, may i share

more hope than harm,

more grace than gripes,

more joy than judgment.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

let it go

keep reminding us,

Lord, that if the past looks great,

it’s because we know

how it turned out, unlike those

moments we haven’t lived yet.

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman

moanday, moanday

another moanday,

Lord, until i see the kids

splashing in puddles,

and wonder if they would mind

a kid at heart jumping in

© 2018 Thom M. Shuman