October 8th

“When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, ‘Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?’” Matthew 9:11

we open the envelope
and cannot wait to tell
everyone we know that
we have received VIP tickets
to the concert considered
the best in all the eras of time.
we put on our black-tie gear
and the brand-new evening gown
and are delighted to discover
we are seated with the CEO
and entourage at the banquet.
we walk the privileged streets,
live in privileged homes and
drive privileged vehicles, and
never seem to hear that
whispered question—
‘why aren’t YOU eating
with the forgotten,
the vulnerable,
the despised?’

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 7th

“Deep calls to deep” Psalm 42:7a

in the quiet breath just
before the sun peeks
over the horizon, when
even the birds are asleep,
your silence draws near,
and with a heartbeat
not a banging of drums,
with gentle persistence
of compassion which never fades,
deep calls to deep.
and my worries are cradled
in your waiting stillness,
my questions find grace
wider than any ocean.
and the thoughts, the prayers,
the fears, the failures, all
the shattered bits of me
are gathered in your mercy,
and as the waves of hope
softly lap at my feet
i sink deeper and deeper
into the presence
which is you.

(c) 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 6th

“Therefore, my dear friends, flee from the worship of idols.” 1 Corinthians 10:14

surely,
it is not idolatry
to constantly check out
what the knuckleheads
are saying or x-ing or ‘gramming,
so that we might wail
and moan and rant about
their false and hateful words,
words which strangely seduce us
to listen to them (maybe)
more than we do to those
of grace, of hope, of love.
words which entice us
to continually gorge at their feast
of bile and bitterness—
rather than running
to that table rounded by love,
where hope is always
the entrée, and grace
is the main topic of conversation.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 5th

“I am reminded of your sincere faith, a faith that lived first in your grandmother Lois and your mother Eunice and now, I am sure, lives in you.” 2 Timothy 1:5

maybe it was in the warm kitchen,
where gran scattered flour
on the scarred tabletop, to roll out
the dough which would soon become
stars, trees, candy canes, that you
heard that carol for the first time.
maybe it was in the pew
as your mom traced her finger
under the words in the hymnal,
and you discovered how letters
and strange shaped notes on lines
came together to touch your heart.
maybe it is those echoes,
those smells, the lingering memories
of quiet love that shaped your life
in ways you can barely explain,
but come together as you sing
those same old songs
in the winter of your life—
and God smiles.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 4th

“Turn, O LORD! How long?
   Have compassion on your servants!” Psalm 90:13

come close, God,
come close in corridors
where whispers haunt,
in crowded roads surrounded
by more cars than we can count.
come close, God,
come close where we soak
our tears in our pillows,
when we walk down roads
potholed from bitter hearts.
come close, God,
with your compassion which
never dries up,
with your presence which
never punches a timecard,
with songs you compose
from our weary sighs.
come close, God,
always listening,
always loving,
always with us.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 3rd

“If I proclaim the gospel, this gives me no ground for boasting, for an obligation is laid on me, and woe to me if I do not proclaim the gospel!” 1 Corinthians 9:16

do birds choose not to sing
to awaken the world each day?
does a creek decide which rock
it will wear down over the years?
this good news, this gospel,
these words which remind us
that love is not a choice,
that justice is not a once
in a blue moon sort of thing,
that hope is not something
we can take or leave—
tugs at our sleeves until
we stop and turn toward mercy,
whispers gently in the night,
pulls us out of our easy lives
until trying to keep silent
brings tears to our eyes.
and so, with trembling lips,
worrying about what to say,
the Holy One turns
our stammering into carols,
our empty hands into food,
our faltering faith into grace
beyond mere words.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 2nd

“my soul waits for the Lord
     more than those who watch for the morning,
     more than those who watch for the morning.” Psalm 130:6

now, in the waiting,
may i unclench my fear
and lean, open-hearted,
toward dawn’s whisper.
now, in the waiting,
may my eyes, more weary
than those of a night nurse,
look for the soft, slow spill
of sunlight over the town.
now, in the waiting,
where shadows linger
on those nights which seem slower
than the crawl of a turtle,
may i hear that low, gentle
hum of hope just below
every trembling breath.
and in the morning,
every morning,
may we discover Grace
has risen long before
we open our eyes.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 1st

“For the gate is narrow and the road is hard that leads to life, and there are few who find it.” Matthew 7:14

it is that road less taken
that children can find
with their eyes closed.
it is that footprints-less beach
covered with starfish longing
to be thrown back into the sea.
it is that cracked and wonky
sidewalk lined with the homes
where the widowed sit on porches
hoping someone will stop,
just for a moment.
it is that tangled, brambled
path in the woods that the dog
wiggles into, leading us to
those pools of clear water
beside grassy lawns of grace.
it is the weathered, off-kilter,
creaking-in-the-wind gate
which the caretaker left open
so we can find our way home.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 30th

“Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye, but do not notice the log in your own eye?” Matthew 7:3

why is it that
even with those lenses
as thick as the bottom
of soda bottles, i still manage
to notice the tiniest shaving
stuck in my neighbor’s life,
yet
never notice those
railroad ties i drag
with me each day?
i guess
it is just easier
to point fingers
then to offer a hand,
to shout accusations
than whisper a prayer
for forgiveness,
to easily diagnose
someone else while
seeking more opinions about me.
reach out with those
callused, carpenter’s fingers
to open my eyes
so i may see with
your grace.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 29th

“But as for me, my feet had almost stumbled;
    my steps had nearly slipped.” Psalm 73:2

i felt pretty spry, light on my feet,
as i strolled through life,
those hymns of trust
humming in my heart.
but then,
i started to wobble just a bit
as the pins and needles of jealousy
showed up in my legs,
so sly, so smooth until
i realized how easy it was
for me to lose my balance,
teetering on those cracks
in my faith, suddenly finding
my arms windmilling, reaching
for grace, afraid i might topple
into the bitterness of doubt.
but you are here, at my side,
sometimes like a cane
sometimes like a handrail,
sometimes like a walker,
always steady as mercy,
quiet as breath,
ready to catch me
every time.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 28th

“When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.” Luke 5:11

on the still lake,
the boat gently rocking
from a voice which causes
ripples never felt before.
hearts wearied by work,
souls callused by worry,
are suddenly restored, not
by green pastures, but
by the courage to simply
let go and open up
to new possibilities, new life.
a voice, a Shepherd’s voice
drifts across the waters,
and we dare to go,
following through the shadows
to where a table waits.
and surely,
goodness and mercy
are the footprints we leave
in the sand, for others
to find the way after us.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 27th

“’For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.’” Matthew 6:21

it is in that hand
we offer to another,
not in that lockbox in the closet
with the keys hidden safely
(and we hope we don’t forget
where).
it is in the stories told
around a shared meal,
which evoke laughter
as well as a few tears,
not in vaults available only
on certain days.
it is in that hope which
leans close to embrace
us in grace which does not
cost us anything but faith—
that is where our treasure
breathes
lingers
rests
lives
serves.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 26th

“’When you are praying, do not heap up empty phrases as the Gentiles do; for they think that they will be heard because of their many words.’” Matthew 6:7

prayers are not rungs
in a ladder to allow us
to get closer to you.
we do not need to string
syllables together like garlands
on an old-fashioned Christmas tree
so you might pay more attention.
in those slow treads
down hospital corridors,
in the gently falling tears
on the face of a sick child,
in the gentle conversation
at tables in a shelter,
in that soft pause between
breaths that we take,
in that worn-out whisper,
‘i need help’
we find you listening closely
to each breath
to each word
to each tear
to each step
as you cradle us
in your grace.

(c) 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 25th

“’So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward.’” Matthew 6:2

we can blow our own horns
(after all, everyone else seems to),
and in our hubris, we may not notice
how strident the notes sound or
the folks who quickly turn away.
but with open hands,
with nothing to gain
(especially applause from others),
we can share that tune
we did not compose—
a hymn for the hungry,
a love song for the lonely,
a great chorus of grace
which does not seek the spotlight,
which does not care about reviews,
but simply invites us to live
in the silence between the notes,
where God carries the melody
smiling at the music
we never knew was in us.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 24th

"But I say to you: ‘Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you,’” Matthew 5:44

in those places
where echoes dwell,
you ask us to whisper grace.
in the weary eyes
of the folks who wound us,
you hope we will see
a sibling who has forgotten
that, they too, are beloved.
you ask us, brother Jesus,
to carry the names of all
who make our souls ache,
as if they are delicate flowers
into the silence of prayer,
to let compassion be a balm
on the burn scars from bitterness,
and maybe, just maybe,
as our hearts crack open,
your way of being different
loving differently
accepting in a different way,
making a difference
begins to change us all.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 23rd

“’Let your word be “Yes, Yes” or “No, No”; anything more than this comes from the evil one.’”
Matthew 5:37

they are like the spam
which shows up in email
or those annoying robocalls
which interrupt our lives—
these words which we
so casually use as if they
were promises that scatter
like leaves in autumn’s wind.
but you remind us to speak
simply and plainly, because
truth really doesn’t need
a lot of glitter sprinkled on it,
just a gift from the heart.
so,
may ‘yes’
be a door open wide
to those who need shelter,
may ‘no’
be a boundary which
respects privacy and
each person’s dignity
and may both
be woven together
in the shawl of grace.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 22nd

“We are fools for the sake of Christ, but you are wise in Christ.” 1 Corinthians 4:10a

we think we need to collect
wisdom, polishing it to put
in a glass-fronted case,
but you hand us a DIY book
on how to live prodigiously
foolish,
scattering our clunky love
like seeds on rocky soil,
stumbling into grace
as we trip over our own feet
trying to chase after the world,
thinking the questions are
far more important than answers.
and when others shake their heads
at our lack of common sense,
you remind us that the weakness
of compassion is stronger than hate,
that you craft stain glass windows
in the cracks of our hearts
to tell the stories of abundant love.
so may we rejoice
to join your league of fools,
making known your mercy,
your peace, your hope to all.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 21st

”And the crowds asked him, ‘What then should we do?’” Luke 3:10

what then, we wonder as
we pull our coats tighter,
we push our wallets
deeper in our pockets,
double the security
on our safe little lives, but
that fellow standing in the water,
dripping with grace, gives a slight smile,
pointing to the little kids
shivering in winter’s thin wind,
to the widow who still
puts her husband’s pjs under his pillow,
to the immigrants struggling
to learn a new language.
just be kind, the ordinary,
everyday sort of kindness
which is the foundation
of everyday, ordinary humanity.
for it is not with arguments
or boots on the ground,
but with warm mittens,
loaves of bread and
bowls of soup,
hands wide open to let
another person’s hopes
rest there, which builds
God’s Beloved Community.

(c) 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 20th

“Think of us in this way, as servants of Christ and stewards of God’s mysteries.” 1 Corinthians 4:1

not the creative types who imagine
nor those skilled at drawing blueprints,
no, we are the drivers of heavy equipment,
smoothers of sidewalk cement,
carriers of shingles to the rooftops,
installers of drywall, and sweepers
of steps for families moving into their first home.
like a weary mother carrying
a candle in the dark when power is out,
we hold mysteries too fragile
to be entrusted to safe deposit boxes.
and when someone asks us
what our calling might be,
let us simply say, we are not
CEOs,
or heads of state,
but simply servers
our hands open,
our hearts giving,
opening the door wide
for whoever needs us.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 19th

“’You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.’” Matthew 5:13

grief is a bitter dish,
a mixture of the dust of loss
and those tears which overflow
every measuring spoon we try.
so
remind us that when you
mention we are salt, it is not
to preserve our sorrow,
but so we might taste
the flavor of your hope
in the sting of sudden weeping,
we might have the silence
of our empty hearts seasoned
with your compassion,
in the ache which dulls our senses
we might still taste the sweet
promise of your Light,
and we will always know
that even if we are
still only salt,
we are yours,
sprinkled on the world
as we bear witness to love.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 18th

“When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them, saying:” Matthew 5:1-2

when we think the poor
should be left alone because
they are guaranteed heaven,
have mercy.
when we think those trapped
in the quicksand of grief
can get out on their own,
have mercy.
when we think the humble
deserve the dirt thrown in their face
because they are weak,
have mercy.
when we think those who seek justice
for the forgotten and despised
are just a bunch of bleeding hearts,
have mercy.
when we think those who are generous
to anyone who stands on street corners
are suckers pure and simple,
have mercy.
when we think those who refuse
to trade their faith for hate and fear
are blind to the reality of the world,
have mercy.
when we think those who challenge
the politics of power and might
are doddering old fools,
have mercy.
when we think the wisest course
of action in life is to forsake you
and swear allegiance to evil,
have mercy on us, Lord,
have mercy.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 17th

“O LORD, who may abide in your tent?
   Who may dwell on your holy hill?” Psalm 15:1

those who stumble yet get up,
those who never win a ribbon,
those whose grief is a flickering candle,
those whose tears water seeds of hope—
they are the ones who abide with you.
those who open doors
not the ones who guard inner sanctums.
those who use the thread of justice
to mend the torn fabric of others’ lives.
those whose hands tremble in fear
yet reach out to the excluded,
the unheard, the unseen.
those who are so exhausted from
trying to heal the brokenness of the world,
yet refuse to stay in bed each day.
those who, when the truth-tellers
and the grace-givers are threatened,
pitch their tents next to them,
refusing to leave them on their own.
they are the ones who know the way
to your compassionate heart.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 16th

“From that time Jesus began to proclaim, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.” Matthew 4:17

whenever outsiders are welcomed
by those who set aside
their ingrained fears and suspicions,
another family moves into
the Beloved Community.
whenever we refuse to let
anger control the conversation,
cruelty to plant its flag in our hearts,
hopelessness place a seed in our souls,
the Beloved Community becomes
even more appealing to doubters.
whenever we give our favorite clothes
to those out of favor with the privileged,
whenever we realize the folks
living at the shelter deserve to eat
as well and healthily as we do,
whenever we treat the forgotten
as if they are long-lost family,
we discover that we are closer
to the Beloved Community
that we ever imagined.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 15th

“Your name, O LORD, endures forever,
    your renown, O LORD, throughout all ages.” Psalm 135:13

there, in the mist of dawns
so far back we cannot count
when language was simply
grunts and guttural sounds,
your name was spoken,
and people longed for your touch.
in the hidden places where
the fearful were tortured for believing
and in grand cathedrals with words
whose eloquence resound to today,
your name was spoken,
and people longed for your touch.
now, when anger and cruelty
seek to drag us back into that miasma
where language is simply
guttural sounds and grunts,
we still speak your name,
hoping you listen.
we still long for your touch,
yearning for you to reach out.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 14th

“He raises the poor from the dust,
   and lifts the needy from the ash heap,
to make them sit with princes,
   with the princes of his people.” Psalm 113:7-8

covered with the detritus of life,
palms callused from unskilled labor,
we ignore you, but when
we fall into the cracks of life,
you are the one who pulls us out,
when we wander down alleys
where no one knows us,
you come calling our names.
not out of any pity, but pure delight,
taking us out to dinner,
not to sit in the corner reserved
for the forgotten, but
at the table where the party
has already started,
where our scarred lives
are considered to be holy.
and there, where
the poor become honored,
the empty become family,
the broken become beloved
we sit, gobsmacked,
that we are in their midst.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 13th

“You stretch out the heavens like a tent,
   you set the beams of your chambers on the waters,
you make the clouds your chariot,
   you ride on the wings of the wind,
you make the winds your messengers,
   fire and flame your ministers.” Psalm 104:2b-4

Designer of dawns,
flinging stars like paint splatters
across the still skies of night,
you craft a refuge with space enough
for every question or silence,
a mercy wide enough
for every whispered hope.
you could use the mountains
to build your house, but
choose those wild waters we fear,
showing us that even chaos
can become the manger for holiness.
you ride the clouds in wonder,
whispering parables of hope on the wind,
your compassion flames up
in the dry tinder of cruelty,
as you draw closer to us,
gliding on the breath
loaned to us by the Spirit,
your Word ready to carve rivers
in the deserts of our hearts.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 12th

“Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ.” Philippians 3:7

so many shiny things
i wanted to accumulate
and display over the years,
those tangible proofs that
i matter, i am special—
but diplomas yellow in the frames,
trophies seem to garner more dust
than oohs and ahs from visitors,
and resumes all too often
end up in the round file.
but then, i am asked
to polish the halls of power
not walk them,
to carry food and tents
and supplies to rough sleepers,
to keep searching for the forgotten
so that, together, we might
stumble over grace,
and rather than losing
what i once believed
to be beyond price,
i am found.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 11th

“A voice was heard in Ramah,
   wailing and loud lamentation,
Rachel weeping for her children;
   she refused to be consoled, because they are no more.” Matthew 2:18

Rachel is there
in every street where tears
pool in cratered houses,
where the broken bodies
of children are carried in the arms
of parents who refuse to be comforted,
where voices, the dust of grief
turning them hoarse, drift across
the rubble of former communities.
and God?
God who once tiptoed into a barn
and slept in a manger of straw,
who knew firsthand
the fear, the flight, the exile
simply because of where
he was born, sits with Rachel
and all the mothers of Gaza,
sobbing, keening, weeping,
wailing until justice is done.

(c) 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 10th

“be of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind.” Philippians 2:2b

may we not walk in lockstep
with the cruel and uncaring,
but take time to play hopscotch
with the little kids down the street.
may we not give our hearts
to the influencers of arrogance,
but share in that love
which walks with those
who shuffle in old age,
which holds hands unsteady
from too much sorrow, and
which gives away the animal
balloons which joy makes.
let us join our voices with
those who dare not audition
for any of those ‘got talent’ shows,
but whose hearts know
the cracked harmony of life,
because they dare to listen
to the Spirit of compassion
and not the polished chords
of the cantatas of polarization.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 9th

“Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ,” Philippians 1:27a

only—
live not in tiktoks or x-posts
but in the weariness
of single parents,
the songs of earth awaking,
learning from the pauses
in grief.
worthy—
not earning applause
or polishing resumes,
but sharing broken bread
with those hungering for crumbs
or offering a cup of grace
to all parched by despair.
of the gospel—
that upside-down community,
one moment, coming like a tornado
to pull the roofs of our fears
and the next, a caravan of strangers
arriving to stay as long as needed.
of Christ—
who stands on corners
needing our help,
who wipes our tears
when everyone turns away,
who invites us to see God
in the faces of everyday people
the world says have no value.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 8th

"O LORD, in the morning you hear my voice;
   in the morning I plead my case to you, and watch.” Psalm 5:3

i groan so much in the morning
about having to head off
to a job which pays well
but which, well, bores me to tears
and so do not have time
for the unemployed hoping for help.
while tapping my plastic money
on the machine, i mutter to myself
about how much groceries cost
(though my pantry runneth over), yet
ignore the mother explaining
why she cannot buy her child’s
favorite cereal.
i spend so much time
putting the case to myself
about what a burden privilege
can be,
that i turn a deaf ear
to your pleading, O God,
for just a few minutes
of genuine compassion.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 7th

“But Peter and John answered them, ‘Whether it is right in God’s sight to listen to you rather than to God, you must judge; for we cannot keep from speaking about what we have seen and heard.’” Acts 4:19-20

when the privileged
boast of another stock
market record being set
and tell the have-nots
to pull themselves up,
when the arrogant hold
all the gavels and tell
the oppressed to keep
silent in kangaroo courts,
when the world tries
to gag our voices with
all their fears and worries,
help us to remember
that wind which burst open
locked doors and shuttered windows
and sent us out into the streets
to speak of justice,
that bread broken into
enough pieces to heal
a shattered world,
that empty tomb which echoes
the resurrection songs of angels,
and that fire which burnt our lips
so we could cry out
with that love
which refuses to stay silent.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 6th

“when I think of you on my bed,
   and meditate on you
   in the watches of the night;” Psalm 63:6

even with all the lights
up and down the streets,
may i notice you, walking
in the shadows, caring for
the rough sleepers,
the lonely weepers,
the unnoticed street sweepers.
as the noise of the world murmurs
and all those thoughts i try
to control just won’t behave,
may i hear the gentle echoes
of the laughter of children,
the kind word i heard
a stranger offer to another,
the gentle grace which was whispered
into the weariness of my soul.
and as i stretch to find
a comfortable position to rest,
may i remember that you
hold all of us, all of us,
in your heart, so we have no need
to cling to all which would
keep us from sleeping in your peace.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 5th

“He drew me up from the desolate pit,
    out of the miry bog,
and set my feet upon a rock,
    making my steps secure.” Psalm 40:2

so many rocks grief
has slipped into my pockets,
so much mud caked
on my shoes from thinking
i could slog through life alone,
and as i slowly begin to sink
into that quicksand of despair
which has filled my path,
i feel your hand beneath me,
gently lifting me, not to place
me on some seat of power—
but on good, old, ordinary dirt,
that earth hard packed from
so many stumblers before me,
that has held trembling feet
and knocking knees, as we learn
to take just one hesitant, fearful
step
onto that ground you make holy
simply because you refuse
to leave our side.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 4th

“So who, then, are you to judge your neighbor?” James 4:12b

i find it all too easy
to pull out that splintered mirror
i carry in my little bag of tricks,
so i can show another
all the cracks in their soul,
or to mark their growth
(and especially lack of)
on that door frame of my
hardened heart.
but you come along,
with your mending hands,
your healing whisper,
your mercy instead of retribution,
to remind us that rather
than passing a verdict
on any other person,
we should let go of that gavel
and hold our neighbor’s hand
in grace.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 3rd

“For all the gods of the peoples are idols,
    but the LORD made the heavens.” Psalm 96:5

each of them, all of them—
the god of business
encouraging accumulating more,
the god of the mirrors whispering
appearance is all that matters,
the god of our devices filling us
with noise, and our souls with emptiness,
the god of achievement who mounts
diplomas on our walls
and prints letters after our names—
all of them, all of them
seek to seduce us away from the One
whose glory is found in grace,
whose strength is weakness,
whose power is humility,
whose love embraces the forgotten,
who has been, who is now, and who,
long after we find new idols
to go running after,
will be our God.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 2nd

“What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works? Can faith save you?” James 2:14

if we offer only prayers
and not practical, workable
solutions to problems which
destroy lives,
what good is it?

if we claim to follow Jesus
but offer loyalty to those
who call other children of God
animals,
what good is it?

if we believe in forgiveness
but cannot, just flat out refuse,
to give away those grudges
we carry for more years
than we can count,
what good is it?

if we say we have faith
but cannot bring ourselves
to believe, much less trust,
that God’s grace, hope, justice,
peace, inclusion, mercy
are far better than anything
we can come up with,
what good is it?

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 1st

“For I was envious of the arrogant;
    I saw the prosperity of the wicked.” Psalm 73:3

they drive those shiny cars
which become pied pipers
for the empty yearning in our hearts.
they have mansions, apartments
in many cities, and act as if
a yacht is simply another rowboat,
and it is no wonder that
our souls turn a shade of green.
so whisper to us of the reality
that things made from metal rust,
that barnacles attach to everything,
that they have no real homes,
just tons of property as if life
is a game of Monopoly.
and turn our gaze toward you,
toward that Beloved Community
of justice, welcome, and compassion
where envy finds no soil
in which to plant its seeds
and grace grows wild and free.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 31st

“The Lord is my shepherd . . .” Psalm 23

the ache is like a black star
as the emptiness of my moments
collapses in on itself, yet
you refuse to let me walk alone.
when i think i cannot take another breath,
the Spirit steps in to help me.
i wander aimlessly, as if i have
lost my way, but Goodness traces
a labyrinth in the dust, so i will be able
to find my way out of grief’s wilderness.
the stones are sharper than knives
and the shadows are thicker than fog,
but i find Life holding out a chair
where a meal awaits, and there
are empty cups to catch all the tears
as they are transformed into hope.
Tenderness seems to trail after me
like a lost dog knowing the way home
and even in this Heartache Hotel
where i currently abide,
there is a thin place of grace,
not just for this moment,
but for as long as all the moments
may last.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 30th

“My soul clings to you;
    your right hand upholds me.” Psalm 63:8

i end up with blisters
on my fingertips trying to rub
away all the mistakes of my life
and calluses on my hands
from climbing up as many rungs
of success’s ladder as i can,
when all i need to do
is simply hold on to the
sleeves of grace’s jacket
to find my way in the world.
wandering and wondering
exhausts me most days, yet
when i notice that I am cradled
in the hollow of your palm,
i realize that it is not my strength
that holds me together, but yours.
so, when the struggles of each day
seem to try to blow me further from you,
may i find your hand guiding me,
lifting me, steadying me,
carrying me home.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 29th

“For my soul is full of troubles,
   and my life draws near to Sheol.” Psalm 88:3

like ants that come tumbling
out of the ground when food is near,
my troubles seem to multiply
more quickly than any device can count.
yes, they may seem more like
speed bumps in a road than mountains,
but they are more seductive
than all the fantasies i can conjure
as they slowly drag, pull, nudge me
closer to that place where i fear
i will be forgotten forever.
but you’ve known such moments—
the silence of others’ hearts,
the nights empty of hope,
days stretching into monotony.
so, draw me, embrace me, caress me
with that presence which reminds me
that you will never let me
slip out of your grace.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 28th

“I kept my faith, even when I said,
   ‘I am greatly afflicted’”; Psalm 116:10

when i awake but cannot
get out of bed because worry
sits heavy on my chest,
you pick it up and toss it
in the trash can, then hold
out faith as a robe to warm me.
as i move through the day
from meeting to meeting,
or loneliness to loneliness,
or walking down unknown streets,
you mark little red flags
in my soul’s GPS so i know
where i can find faith.
when each night seems longer
than any prayers i can cobble together,
you slip in, like a kitten getting
under the covers, to remind me
that faith is that small candle
i always seem to forget i hold,
its flame flickering in all
my hesitant breaths, but
refusing to go out.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 27th

“His delight is not in the strength of the horse,
    nor his pleasure in the speed of a runner;” Psalm 147:10

we won’t see them
in any social media reels,
or making the top ten
lists of anyone, but
the ones who, without realizing
what fools they are, choose
to take the less-traveled road
every chance they get.
who, with callused hands from
cleaning up the litter of the privileged
and whose feet need soaking
every night from standing in the
shadows with the forgotten.
who, getting proforma responses
from the powerful every time,
keep writing about
the injustices in our times.
those are the folk you
are waiting for, in the gathering dusk
at the finish line, to hand them
the gold medal for living.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 26th

“The LORD watches over the strangers;
   he upholds the orphan and the widow,
   but the way of the wicked he brings to ruin.” Psalm 146:9

the lonely widow
finds you offering your arm
as she takes her evening walk
past the houses filled with hearts
which are closed off to her.
war’s orphans are but
a statistic or a protest image
for most of the world,
but their names are whispered
on your breath swirling around us.
like leaves drifting by until
they end up in gutters or
raked into bags to be put out
for the gatherers of trash,
strangers simply pass by us,
their faces forgotten
as the day blurs into the shadows
gathering on the lawn,
and we wonder why you
question our compassion.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 25th

“They set a net for my steps;
    my soul was bowed down.
They dug a pit in my path,
    but they have fallen into it themselves.” Psalm 57:6

they thought a shovel
would be all they needed,
but then, when they realized
who was walking with me,
brought out those heavy
pieces of equipment to dig
a yawning hole
too deep for even you.
but spreading a net of mercy
from one edge of the sky to the other,
you kept me from falling in.
and as the trembling in my soul
turns into that trust
that you will always catch me,
i find myself on that solid grace
which will support me
at every moment.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 24th

“There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” Galatians 3:28

no more tats signifying
which gang we’ve joined,
no more voting registrations
indicating our political party,
no more tribal name tags
sewn onto our souls,
no more heavy labels
slapped on us saying,
‘if found, return to owner.’
now,
in every place of holiness
where bread is broken
and in every pub and eatery
where strangers cheer on teams
and sing songs known by all,
our stories are woven together
like the cast of a play,
our lives are no longer categories
but birth certificates showing
we are not strangers
or outsiders or shadows,
but light, kin, siblings
in that family made up
of more people than
all the stars in the night
or the grains of sand on the beach.
God’s beloved.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 23rd

“Be gracious to me, O God, for people trample on me;
    all day long foes oppress me;
my enemies trample on me all day long,
   for many fight against me.
O Most High, when I am afraid,
   I put my trust in you.” Psalm 56:1-3

some treat the forgotten
as if they are simply door mats
on which they can wipe their privilege.
some see outsiders
as those who look as if they
are ready to give birth to justice
and so, slam the doors in their faces.
some have no problem using
others as steppingstones to success
or as ladders to climb to power.
yet, all those whose knees knock,
whose heels are snapped at
by fear’s sharp teeth,
whose names are whispered
in the shadows of hate,
are the torch bearers
of your Beloved Community.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 22nd

“Be merciful to me, O God; be merciful to me,
   for in you my soul takes refuge;
in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge,
   until the destroying storms pass by.” Psalm 57:1

in a world filled with anger
and a culture obsessed
with posts, texts, memes,
how will mercy ever find us
so we might be more caring.
yet
as we flap our wings
like little birds trying to figure out
what this flying thing
is all about,
you offer shelter under
your steadfast shadow of love—
just as a mother does
who encircles her young ones
when thunder shakes their bed
and lightning scares them.
and so,
just like them, we wait
until the storms pass
the lightning fades,
the wind becomes a sigh
and the only sound we hear
is the beating of your heart.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 21st

“It was told Joab, ‘The king is weeping and mourning for Absalom.’” 2 Samuel 19:1

some seem to think
that grief has a shelf life
of 72 hours and then should be
thrown into the nearest bin.
others, especially those who are
of the religious persuasion
silently give the message that
one should move on as quickly
as they do, once they have said
a few kind words known by rote.
a few are like the folks who cross
to the other side, in the parable once told,
as if they are worried the mere whiff
of grief will cling to their clothes.
but you, God-who-knows-grief-intimately,
simply, and always,
cups your hands to catch our tears,
draws us up in your lap when we are lonely,
is waiting outside the door
when we dare to venture out,
and hugs us tightly to you when
the emptiness of intimacy shatters us.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 20th

“Answer me when I call, O God of my right!
   You gave me room when I was in distress.
   Be gracious to me, and hear my prayer.” Psalm 4:1

at some point,
the day began to unravel
and now worry wants to stretch
the night as long as possible,
so listen to me, God
who is the gentle breath
in the pauses of my sighs
who is that quiet grace
slowly untangling my fears.
you place you callused hands
over the ones i clench together,
slowly moving them to your lap,
as you whisper lullabies to my soul.
you are closer than i,
or anyone, realizes or notices,
and we discover how much room
for hope you offer, by that simple act
of listening to our unformed words.
and so, we can lie down
in the soft meadows of your love
and rest in the space you offer.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 19th

“Have mercy upon us, O Lord, have mercy upon us,
   for we have had more than enough of contempt.” Psalm 123:3

have mercy, Lord,
as the privileged pile their plates
higher and higher while
the hungry hold out empty plates.
have mercy, Lord,
as the forgotten wave away
the disdain of the narcissists
continually looking for mirrors.
have mercy, Lord,
when the hearts of the vulnerable
sag like long-distance runners
as the taunts of the influencers
sting them with careless jabs.
have mercy, Lord,
as we keep craning our necks
towards your gentleness,
still hoping to see the One
who has never, not once,
looked away from
your children despised
by everyone else.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 18th

“Jesus answered them, ‘Have faith in God.’” Mark 11:22

sometimes,
faith is floating down
a gentle river, our hands
trailing through the cool
waters of life.
sometimes,
faith is those slow, cautious
steps on an icy walk,
worried that a slip might come
at any moment, and we might
not make it to the safety of home.
sometimes,
faith is plodding along
as we carry our weary hearts
hoping for that whisper of grace.
at all times,
faith is simply the willingness
to lean into that love
which never leaves our side.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 17th

“I can do nothing on my own,” John 5:30a

on my own,
i stumble down
shadowed alleys looking
for some glimmer of hope,
i hear whispers on the wind
but instead of saving me
they draw me further from peace.
come closer, friend Jesus,
taking me by the hand
so I can touch the pulse
of your mercy,
so you can breathe life
into my parched soul,
and as my stuttering words
are reshaped into prayers,
may i rest in your grace
knowing that my weakness
is simply that soil where
your grace is planted.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 16th

“May the glory of the LORD endure for ever;
   may the LORD rejoice in his works —” Psalm 104:31

in those lives stumbling
towards the finish line of justice
and our awkward attempts
at living in grace with ourselves
in the refusal to admit
we cannot do everything,
you offer a gentle smile.
long after our voices grow silent,
your holy laughter will echo
over the meadows where sheep
meander in the misty mornings
and down the streets where
children still play hopscotch.
but—
for this moment,
this breath,
this fragile, shimmering breath,
may it be enough to gladden
your heart, Spinner of galaxies,
as you long for us to notice,
just for this moment
this breath,
this fragile, shimmering breath.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 15th

“Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity,
     and cleanse me from my sin.” Psalm 51:2

like a dusty, parched
yard in the midst of
a lingering drought,
which rejoices when rain
seems to remember
to fall upon it once more,
soak me in your grace.
like that tide which
scrubs away those prints left
in the sand by children
chasing one another,
carry away my foolishness.
and with that hose
attached to the faucet
of your steadfast love
rinse me over and over
until, like a new-born,
i can take a deep breath
of life.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 14th

“For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.” Mark 10:45

you don’t want us
to build you another
multi-million ballroom,
but will accept every shelter
for families sleeping rough.
you aren’t offering corner
offices to those who follow,
but corners to inhabit while
working for justice.
you go to the local thrift store
to trade in the robes of glory
for a couple of ratty dish towels
and a dented metal bowl, so
you can baptize the feet
of everyone who will run away.
you aren’t calling folks
who will eagerly nod ‘yes’
but those who have the
courage to say no to pride
as you give away yourself
time and time again, until
only love remained

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 13th

 “Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, ‘You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’” Mark 10:21

with a sigh,
we convince ourselves
(which we are so good
at doing) that
it is not our portfolios,
our bank accounts,
our overflowing pantries
or walk-in closets
we can’t get a foot into
that you are talking about.
so,
with a sigh, we shuffle our feet
trying to follow you
(because surely, surely
you will need this stuff
somewhere down the road).
and,
with a sigh,
you continue to love us
waiting for us to realize
that common sense
may just be what we lack
more than anything else.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman 

August 12th

“Why are you cast down, O my soul,
   and why are you disquieted within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
   my help and my God.” Psalm 42:11

these days,
the songs filling my soul
seem best sung in that
lowest of bass registers,
where the hollow aches
make up the notes,
where the shadows of night
indicate where the pauses
should be.
but that’s all right, you whisper,
God-who-honors-the-starkest-of-truths.
for praise is not always
a jazz riff setting feet tapping—
it is a slow tread through sorrow.
hope is not always
that bright sun bursting
through the fog of fatigue—
it is the candle buffeted in the wind,
which refuses to go out.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 11th

“Give ear to my words, O LORD; 

    give heed to my sighing.” Psalm 5:1

they are like the boxes
lined up on grocery shelves,
those proper, correct words
which i know I should offer.
but those snorts of derision
at the foolishness of others
i shove deep inside me,
those gasps of outrage
i mutter to myself when
things don’t go my way,
those chirrs i stifle as
the chair of a meeting
drones on and on and on,
those whispers of loneliness
which i dare not exhale
at the table filled with conversations?
consider my sighs, gentle God,
so i know that at least
someone is listening
to the hollowness of my days
and will transform it, by grace,
into holiness for others.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 10th

“Welcome one another, therefore, just as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God.” Romans 15:7

yes,
you little kids tracking in mud
and all with highly polished shoes,
you with your hearts as empty
as a dog’s dish 10 seconds after it is filled
and you whose hearts overflow
with regrets and words you can’t take back—
come in.
here is always room for one more chair,
always an extra plate and cup,
but no expectations or accusations.
come in
and join that sheep the shepherd
went and found,
sit down next to the woman from the well,
listen to the prodigal tell of
leaving the light on for his older brother.
come in,
as we sit so close we touch shoulders
and hear the beat of
everyone’s heart.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 9th

“Then he took a little child and put it among them, and taking it in his arms he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” Mark 9:36-37

that runt of the litter
who escapes every eye,
the wiggle-worm who
wears everyone out,
the shy, sit-in-the-corner
one who never says a word—
those are the ones
Jesus scoops up, placing
them right in the middle
of our petty squabbles,
right in the spot where
we draw a line, daring
all others to cross,
right in the line of sight
so everybody sees them,
as he reminds us,
‘the snot dripping kid,
the non-stop questioner,
the fraidy cat who looks
without ever leaping?
those are the ones who,
if you dare to welcome them,
you will crack open your soul
just enough
for God to slip in.

(c) 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

August 8th

“Even the sparrow finds a home
   and the swallow a nest for herself,
   where she may lay her young,
at your altars, O Lord of hosts,
   my King and my God.” Psalm 84:3

there, in a forgotten corner
just out of sight of the unobservant,
using a twig, a piece of yarn
and other ordinary findings, a
sparrow, unnoticed, weaves
a sanctuary in the midst of holiness—
a restless, tiny wanderer finding
respite under the eaves of grace,
the wind blocked by the Spirit’s hands
lifted in prayer, perhaps.
and, in that corner, in that nest,
perhaps we can realize that
there is space for us, not
a golden ballroom but grace
soft as dust, a gentle cradle
where we can rest weary souls
and, as the sparrow sings her lullaby
we discover that you offer
a song composed just for us.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 7th

“I kept my faith, even when I said,
   “I am greatly afflicted”;” Psalm 116:10

grief
doesn’t ring the doorbell,
it just shows up, stretched out
in the soul’s recliner, having
left behind a trail of sorrow’s crumbs.
yet,
i still struggle to believe,
whispering my hope
through clenched jaws,
my faith wobbling and creaking
like those old pews which
have held generations of loss.
i could dam up my tears,
but i let them flow,
hoping they will baptize
that trust which seems
to need to be born anew
in far too many moments,
struggling to blossom
in every crack
of my aching heart.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman 

August 6th

 “He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” Mark 8:34-35

no roadmaps or GPS,
no shortcuts—
that would be easy
and Jesus was too honest
to offer easy.
but that cross
that call to follow,
those are the challenges.
to release our grip
on every attempt to control
every competitive bone,
every well-memorized certainty
and toss them in that bonfire
of grace and hope,
watching life curl up
from the ashes and
seep deep into our souls.
because it may not be
so much about dying
as it is about letting go
of just enough
so we can find life.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 5th

“He asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” Mark 8:29

ignore the confessions
the profound sermons
the memes filled with rigidity—
you,
with the bruised souls,
the bitter breath,
the stone-in-the-shoe weariness.
you,
whose muse is more doubt
than iron-clad belief.
you,
who dares to hope
in what the world ignores
and who hears that Voice
in the whispered prayers
of the forgotten and flawed.
you,
who writes down grace
on your shopping list
and longs for someone
to call you ‘my heart.’
what name do you give
to that Love which
wears the same life
you do?

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 4th

“How long will you assail a person,
   will you batter your victim, all of you,
   as you would a leaning wall, a tottering fence?” Psalm 62:3

try your best,
all you murmurers of anger,
hurling your words like lashing rain
against the weary!
stand there, arms folded,
your arrogance pressing like boots
on those knocked down by despair.
the ones who are already shattered
into a thousand-piece puzzle
don’t need your breath
to bend them, they can barely stand.
but like flowers tenaciously clinging
to the remains of ruined abbeys,
grace blooms in our fractures
and God—
yes, God!—
gently holds us up
like that fence a farmer
will not let crumble.
so, rage and bluster and threat
for as long as you want,
but remember—

we lean on love.
we lean on love.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 3rd

“If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.” Romans 14:8

like a thief,
grief sneaks in—
but not to steal anything,
just sitting beside us
with hands folded quietly,
eyes brimming with memories.
with silent sighs, we whisper
in the emptiness where laughter
used to reside.
yet even there,
in that echoless hush,
we are not alone.
so then, whether we hold each breath
afraid it will tumble into sobs
or simply offer it back,
we are held in God’s grace
which never lets us go.
those we hold in our shattered hearts
are not lost, not forgotten,
and neither are we.
now and always, we belong
to the One who
waits with us
weeps with us
walks with us.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 2nd

“O God, you are my God; I seek you;
   my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
   as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.” Psalm 63:1

like a kitten tracking shadows
across a barren floor,
with each quivering breath
cradling too many tears to count,
i seek you
as i make my way, trying to avoid
the quicksand of grief.
shattered in pieces, parched by loneliness,
my soul longs for just a sip
of your grace, your peace, your life.
like a removal firm,
grief tries to empty one of
every memory
every moment
every touch.
yet,
as those arid winds whistle
through the echoes of night,
i remember your love
which cradles me, even when
i toss and turn, and so
i look for you to come
as dew on desert sands,
as hope’s whisper
in the silence of grief.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 1st

“But I, O Lord, cry out to you;
   in the morning my prayer comes before you.
O Lord, why do you cast me off?
   Why do you hide your face from me?” Psalm 88:13-14

i jerk awake—
the dry tickle of a prayer
threatening to become a hacking
cough, a cry thrown out into
the silence dawning around me.
i stretch out my hand,
but the door to your heart
seems padlocked and the key
slipped out of my pocket, and
so my words turn into dust bunnies
searching for a minyan under the bed.
why does it seem that you choose
to break off our relationship, and
you are signing up on one
of those dating apps, in search of another.
i really don’t want any answers,
just you—
your warm hand placed upon
my chilled soul, so that i know
that even if it seems that
silence is the answer offered,
there is the whisper of grace
just longing for me to listen.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 31st

“Let me hear of your steadfast love in the morning,
for in you I put my trust.
Teach me the way I should go,
for to you I lift up my soul.” Psalm 143:8

now
in the silence of loneliness
as the world wobbles around us,
we offer our lives to you,
weary from too many doubts
wrinkled from fretting over fears
longing to remember those simple lessons
we learned from you so long ago,
that we might use them as quiet chants
to cradle us through the night
until
with a gentle nudge
and a breath of wonder,
that tenderness which knows no ending,
awakens us with grace streaming
through the slats of our hearts
and we can once again walk
in the Light of your yes.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 30th

"By awesome deeds you answer us with deliverance,
O God of our salvation;
you are the hope of all the ends of the earth
and of the farthest seas." Psalm 65:5

while lightning wakes the cat
and thunder rattles our fears,
it is in the shawl of mercy
wrapped around our weariness
that hope tiptoes in.
not loud, not threatening,
but dew on parched dreams
or a sigh which finally
escapes our souls.
God of distant shores
and alleys too crowded
to hold our dreams,
wrap your grace around
all the havoc which weighs us down,
so that in that empty lobby of life,
in the valley of grief we wander,
your love is in each thin space—
unshaken, unchanging, unafraid—
inviting us to hope,
not so much in what might be
but in the One who came
and always comes,
one whisper of peace
one gentle touch
one quiet grace
at a time.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 29th

”But he answered them, “’You give them something to eat.’” Mark 6:37a

in the pantry, we whisper
as we count how many loaves
we do not have, rather than
noticing what is on the shelves,
but Jesus ignores what we lack
and notices what we have –
the aching hearts,
the sore hands,
the pockets full of grace
we thought we had already spent.
while we are huddled
praying for miracles,
he hands us baskets,
empty baskets –
but then, fear is broken,
hope is multiplied,
compassion takes human form
in hands that dare to give
when everything tells us
to hold tight to what we have
and we discover,
in the giving,
that we have more than
enough,
always
more than enough.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 3rd

“The snares of death encompassed me;
   the pangs of Sheol laid hold on me;
   I suffered distress and anguish.
Then I called on the name of the LORD:
   “O LORD, I pray, save my life!” Psalm 116:3-4

it isn’t as dramatic
as it is in movies—
just the thread of life
unraveling like a sweater
picked at by a bored child
when they think no one
is paying any attention.
and those pangs?
not like being wrapped
in dungeon’s chains,
but that vise which
slowly squeezes hope
out of us as we sit across
from the doctor.
and yet,
with that breath that was
lying there in the bottom
of our empty souls,
we can offer our
scattered, stumbling,
out-of-the-depths-honest
words which you gather up
and in response, offer grace
breaking in as swift as light
on creation’s very first morning.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 2nd

"You will not fear the terror of the night,
   or the arrow that flies by day,
or the pestilence that stalks in darkness,
   or the destruction that wastes at noonday.” Psalm 91:5-6

though the shadows of fear
seek to wrap around us
and the narcissist’s breath
longs to suck our souls,
we will not flinch—
for somewhere, there
in the pause between
the tick-tocks of time,
is that breath of God
gently singing out names.
when the rumor mongers
come sidling up next
to our peace like serpents
looking for warmth on cold nights,
we will not flinch—
for grace comes into our hearts,
setting up compassion’s camp,
making s’mores out of hope
and pieces of left-over bread.
though every moan of the wind
and creak in the middle hours
pull us out of our already
restless efforts to sleep,
we will not flinch—
for you gently spread
your wings of love over us
to keep us safe,
in every moment.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 1st

“To you, O LORD, I call;
    my rock, do not refuse to hear me,
for if you are silent to me,
    I shall be like those who go down to the Pit.” Psalm 28:1

we call,
and wonder if it sounds
like that silent breath
a leaf utters as it falls
gently to the ground.
we call,
because sometimes the
silent responses from others
feels like we are falling
into that sort of void
from which there is no return.
we call,
because you are like
that boulder sitting in the sun
which warms us as
the chill of forgetful friends
slowly seeps into us.
so now,
as the pit begins
to sing its siren call
of our names, hoping
to draw us closer to
the edge,
lean in just a bit and
whisper of your love,
which is all we need to hear.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 30th

“Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me,
   for in you my soul takes refuge;
in the shadow of your wings I will take refuge,
   until the destroying storms pass by.” Psalm 57:1

it is when the wind begins
to shake the branches,
it is when the thunder starts
its oh-so-low bass thrumming,
it is when our hearts want
to crawl into our souls’ closet,
you open your wings,
gathering us like nervous nellie chicks,
or a person wrapping a thunder
blanket around their furry best friend,
or a teacher whispering grace
to his frightened friends caught
in a sudden storm on a lake.
and so,
even when we wonder
if you are as close
to us as everyone says—
and maybe especially then—
we can lean into you
like a kitten into its mother,
knowing, trusting, finding
that you have got us.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 29th

"As he turned away to leave Samuel, God gave him another heart; and all these signs were fulfilled that day.” 1 Samuel 10:9

we need to stop
hoping for lightning
or a word in a homily
or even a love letter
sealed with red wax.
sometimes it is just
a breath as soft as
a mother leaning over
a new born in a stable,
or bread handed to us
from perfect strangers,
and then,
something we have clung
to so tight slips away
like a shadow at night,
and a new heart—
not hollow
but filled with hope,
not shallow
but deep in compassion,
not perfect
but open to possibility,
not proud,
but beating with humility,
and we know we can go
to let it break for others.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 28th

“Let them praise his name
   with dancing,
making melody to him
   with tambourine and
   lyre.” Psalm 149:3

for clouds scudding across
blue skies like tumbleweeds,
for puppies that seem
to find everything possible
to knock over in their joy
of kids coming home,
for goslings parading
behind their folks in
almost-perfect formation,
for grandpas who can
whistle a tune that rivals
the finest symphony player,
for pools with shallow ends
for the most nervous
little one (and their parents)
and a deep end for
the ones trying to impress
those with blasé attitudes,
we praise you,
God of joy which tastes
as sweet as dandelion wine.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 27th

"He had a son whose name was Saul, a handsome young man. There was not a man among the people of Israel more handsome than he; he stood head and shoulders above everyone else." 1 Samuel 9:2

when we look
at the chiseled chin,
the piercing blue eyes,
the wind-swept hair
and think,
'that's the one!'
remind us to look
for the warts;
when we admire
those who stand
head and shoulders
above the rest,
point our eyes down
so we can see
the feet of
clay.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 26th

“’But I am among you as one who serves.’” Luke 22:27c

you slip into the high-viz
safety jacket, working
in the shadows of despair
to help us keep from
journeying into foolishness.
you hang up the blazer
to slip into a cardigan,
exchanging your dress shoes
for a pair of worn sneakers,
to sit on the floor with us,
telling stories, modeling imagination,
singing songs with lyrics
that linger for decades.
you avoid the spotlight,
simply walking through
the rows of seats bending low
and gently handing out
pieces of bread
and cups full of grace,
whispering,
‘see, it doesn't take

a lot of skill to do 

this sort of thing.’

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 25th

“Then Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Jeshanah and named it Ebenezer, for he said, ‘Thus far the Lord has helped us.’” 1 Samuel 7:12

there,
between the mountain
we thought we couldn’t climb
and the valley which frightens us
because it is filled with shadows.
there,
on those stony roads which
cause bruises up to our souls,
and the paths covered with the dust
of those dreams turned to ashes.
there,
where the storms washed away
those hopes which had sustained generations
and in the tiny seeds planted in cups
by children who believe in miracles.
there,
we build our cairns of mercy
so others know they are
not alone on their journey.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 24th

“’What profit is there in my death,
   if I go down to the Pit?
Will the dust praise you?
   Will it tell of your faithfulness?’” Psalm 30:9

if there is no more breath,
if the songs are stilled,
if the whispers fall away,
what is the point?
i have never heard
a hole in the ground
offer hallelujahs, nor
bones sing in 4-part harmony,
and stillness is no more
a promise keeper than a rock.
so,
don’t let go of us,
not because we are deserving,
but because we are
still struggling
to learn the tunes,
to memorize the lyrics,
to sing in unison,
while dust never breaks
its vow of silence.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 23rd

“The Lord is just in all his ways,
and kind in all his doings.” Psalm 145:17

too often, it seem your goodness
is playing hide and seek with us,
when our cries for peace echo back
or when the promise of justice
turns out to be just idle gossip.
then—
when we are too alone
a stranger offers a weary smile
while holding open a door,
grace comes like a stunning sunset,
a chair is pulled out
to welcome us at a table,
mercy curls up in our souls.
and we discover once again
that while we may not see your hand,
your fingerprints are all over
the compassion offered to the forgotten,
the hope given without conditions,
the quiet faithfulness of a friend,
and we once more lean
into your steadfast love
which is always beside us.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 22nd

"Then they arrived at the region of the Gerasenes, which is opposite Galilee. As he stepped out on shore, a man from the city who had demons met him. For a long time he had not worn any clothes, and he did not live in a house but in the tombs.” Luke 8:26-27

we know what it is like
to live in that far country
our Sunday School teachers
warned us about,
that other side of the tracks
where we are so broken,
so bruised, so damaged by life
we no longer know who we are.
where we wander among the tombstones
of fear, of anger, of grudges, of loneliness.
where those voices constantly whisper,
‘you’re worthless
you’re right where you belong
no one is coming to help you.’
then a boat lands, and you
step out on the shore, coming
to meet us, not flinching, but
simply asking our name,
and reminding us
there is no country too far
no one so lost
no damage so severe
that grace will not find us.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: Thom-Shuman

June 21st

"On the day I called, you answered me, you increased my strength of soul." Psalm 138:3

most days when we call,
it is not with well-crafted,
well-rehearsed prayers,
but weary voices, cracking hearts,
and yet, you listen
you don’t ask us to buck up,
to become stronger people,
you gather us on your lap,
breathing hope into our emptiness,
planting seeds of grace
into the parched soil of our souls.
for it is not on mountaintops
looking for thunderclaps,
but in the valleys of fear
where we are,
and so with a whispered,
‘yes,’
you soothe our quaking lives,
so that today, we might
keep moving forward,
carrying your affirmation
like a candle lighting the way
so that we might not stumble.

(c) 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: Thom-Shuman

June 20th

“they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need.” Acts 2:45

the person on the corner
with the cardboard sign
asking for help—
why can’t we see her
as a sister desperate
for a meal, not a fix?
the busker with the music
case open at their feet—
how is it the assumption
becomes the proceeds are
simply going to a grifter,
not a brother trying to feed
some kids waiting at home?
could it be that,
even if we sold all our
possessions and goods,
we would believe that
we
are still the ones
who need the proceeds?

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: Thom-Shuman

June 19th

“For you do not give me up to Sheol,
   or let your faithful one see the Pit.” Psalm 16:10

in the pool filled with despair’s tears,
in the hollow of silent hearts,
in the hole dug by empty souls
where i have been tossed,
you whisper, ‘wherever you are,
I am.’
where anger tries to be the last word,
as the shadows try to barricade
the sun from drawing near,
when the thoughts of the grave
clenches my soul so tight,
i dare not breathe, you whisper,
‘even there, I am.’
you cradle me in your heart
as if i were as precious
to you as a sparrow,
simply because
i am.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: Thom-Shuman

June 18th

“He said to them, ‘Why do you do such things? For I hear of your evil dealings from all these people.’” 1st Samuel 2:23

they think no one cares,
that no one listens to
those quiet backroom meetings,
those bruised words in smiles,
the way power is offered
for crypto currency.
but questions get around,
truth whispers in the shadows,
and the Old Book implores,
why??
not to judge them
but to open their eyes
not to punish them,
but to nudge warped souls
toward that voice they ignore.
maybe grace is in such questions
offered in a quivery voice,
while God still waits at the
window,
hoping the answer will be
those prodigals finding
their way home.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: Thom-Shuman

June 17th

“When shall I come and behold
   the face of God?” Psalm 42:2b

in evenings of lengthening shadows
and days of hope singing
so low we can barely hear it,
when silence parches our souls
and prayers hang loose as if
we have had a sudden loss of faith,
perhaps
in the smile creasing
the immigrant’s face or
that breath which signals
the first drops of rain,
you shimmer,
not in stunning sunsets
but in a sandwich offered by the weary,
in grace as soft as slippers,
in the creases on a nana’s face.
and as i sit and ponder
when i will get a glimpse of you,
you are on the worn pavement
crying out for justice,
in the tears shared at gravesides,
in that knot of kids selling lemonade
and
i realize i have simply
forgotten how to see.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: Thom-Shuman

June 15th

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” John 1:1

in the hush between
the cracking of chaos
and creation taking is first breath,
there was a Word.
before God wound the clock
on the mantle over Eden’s fireplace
or stars whispered stories in the night,
there was a Word.
not a shout of hubris
but a lullaby of love,
not a doctrine to memorize
or a puzzle to be put together,
but hope offered in a hand.
at the beginning, with God,
with every moment, in God,
from before any bang, big or little,
was God—
the Word moving into every
weary and forgotten neighborhood,
learning our names, discovering our faults,
and willing to love us, despite us.
still.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 14th

"Set me as a seal upon your heart,
as a seal upon your arm;
for love is strong as death,
passion fierce as the grave.
Its flashes are flashes of fire,
a raging flame.” Song of Songs 8:6

it’s not a burning bush
or a thunderclap on a mountaintop
or even a dove showing up at baptism.
it is more like a love note
we discover in our purse or pocket
that you, God, slip in when we are not looking.
you aren’t necessarily asking for our heart,
but that we make you permanent,
immutable, as if wax pressed
by the Beloved’s ring, or like
love etched on scarred hands.
you remind us that your love
is anything but safe, that
it is stronger than death,
as passionate as what
we feel for our soulmates,
yet you would place it
on our hearts with a butterfly’s kiss,
you would tattoo it on our souls
where it would burn so bright
others can see it as clear as day.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 13th

"Then he entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling things there" Luke 19:45

we immediately begin
to clap and cheer as
Jesus clears out
the privileged from their head tables,
the narcissists waiting
for their parade to pass by,
the powerful who sell their souls
for fancy airplanes and bigger portfolios.
but
then as he turns and notices
us
sitting at our tables
piled high with dogmas and doctrines,
our fancy brochures for seminars
on nothing-but-growth promised,
our books that guarantee
the sort of prosperity which will
us the envy of all our friends,
the new and improved faith
based on that old monasticism,
we see that glint in his eyes
and the twitch in his fingers
and start to sweat . . .

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 12th

“They replied, ‘The Lord needs it.’” Luke 19:34

the back bowed from work,
the frayed rope around the neck,
hardly the white stallion meant
to carry generals or royalty—
yet, that is what Jesus needed,
not perfection,
but the ordinary, caked with dust.
what if that’s all the permission
we need to let go
of those fears knotted
to us by frayed dreams, 

caked with dust?
after all,
maybe what is being asked
of us in such moments
or in every moment
is not perfect lives,
but that we let go
of our grip on ordinary lives
caked with the dust
of all our foolish choices
because we are needed
to carry others into
the Beloved Community.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 11th

“If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness.” 2 Corinthians 11:30

if i swagger, let it be
as grace turns my stumbles
into dance steps.
it i crow, let it be
with that raspy voice
from singing all night about hope.
if i boast, let it be
with the splinters of my heart
cracked by the wounds of the world.
if i gloat, let it be
about the vulnerable being chosen
to sit at the head table of love.
if i brag, let it be prayers
whispered from those
failure built prisons as mercy
creeps in on little feet.
for whatever claim
i might make about myself
is but that stone i roll
in front of my soul, but
which you push open
to welcome me into
the new life you offer.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 10th

“Help, O LORD, for there is no longer anyone who is godly;
   the faithful have disappeared from humankind.
They utter lies to each other;
   with flattering lips and a double heart they speak.” Psalm 12:1-2

where?
where are you, God, when
lie seems to follow lie until
we face a tsunami of falsehood,
and truth is washed from under our feet.
yet, still, in the silence of hope
we wait,
for the whispers of the just
to mingle with the voices of grace,
gradually swelling into songs
with lyrics about endurance
and music hummed by little kids.
for it is in the silence,
trusting your truth will outlast
the storm of the knuckleheads,
that your light will brighten
the shadows of our fears,
that your justice will become
a rainbow sheltering everyone,
that our hearts will hold fast
as we wait to be reborn.

(c) 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 9th

“Even if you are exiled to the ends of the world, from there the LORD your God will gather you, and from there he will bring you back.” Deuteronomy 30:4

if the world would cast us
adrift on a paper boat headed
toward that place marked
‘here be dragons,’
still
God would find us,
using that whisper carried
back on the sighs of our souls
to find the route to us,
with that wearied trust
of a shepherd who knows
the individual voice of every sheep.
even if the powerful
grinds our hearts into dust
that they put in a container
shipped to some grace-forsaken spot,
still
God will never give up
coming to gather us,
singing us home with
lullabies as soft as mercy,
with kisses as certain
as the stars coming
out at night.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Pentecost

the smell of broken bread
lingering in that upstairs room,
their hearts shredded like the
Temple’s veil, surely it was over.
but rather than knocking gently,
that holy wildfire,
that unrestrained wind,
that grace which unties
tongues of the shyest,
came barreling in
tumbling them out
into the empty streets.
and still,
in that first breath
a new-born takes,
in those songs for justice
in forgotten neighborhoods,
in whispered hopes
at gravesides in death’s chill,
she comes -
ready to push us out
of apathy-shuttered lives,
with good news sparking off us,
ready to ignite grace
in the world.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 7th

“’Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters.’” Luke 11:23

there is one field sown
with the wildflowers of grace
while next to it is one
teeming with the weeds of expediency.
and while we sit on the fence
that extends between the two,
not sure where we should walk,
we might remember that Jesus
isn’t inviting us to be neutral parties.
no, we are called to gather
the forgotten, the fearful,
and even those we cannot stand.
we are invited to mend nets
ripped apart by polarization,
to bandage the wounds of the wicked
as well as cradling those closest to our hearts.
and so, will we choose to hold
his hand and race toward
the splintering of the world
or just keep teetering,
as the pieces drift apart.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 6th

“Is it not enough for you to feed on the good pasture, but you must tread down with your feet the rest of your pasture? When you drink of clear water, must you foul the rest with your feet? And must my sheep eat what you have trodden with your feet, and drink what you have fouled with your feet?” Ezekiel 34:18-19

we pull on our wellies
trampling on all grace
leaves behind.
yes, the pasture is deep and wide
yet we are determined to muck it up
with our mud-coated, narcissistic feet.
we are handed that cool drink
from mercy’s deep waters
and then toss the litter
from our picnic in the well.
whisper, Shepherd of our hearts,
so we remember how guilty
we are leaving only crumbs
from your table, for the least.
Gatherer of scattered sheep
sift our souls of our greed,
loosen our grip on our blessings,
and remind us of the burdens
we leave behind for others
to clear up from our journey.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 5th

“Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. ‘Teacher,’ he said, ‘what must I do to inherit eternal life?’” Luke 10:25

whether with a scroll
or using our tablet,
we want to test this
itinerant preacher
with the same question,
‘what must i do?’
do we really think
God’s love is ink
in the lines on a ledger,
or that grace is confined
to very narrow margins?
do we imagine we
will be pinned like butterflies
in some divine display case
on the other side of life?
so, pay attention,
because Jesus, with that
always irritating patience
simply takes our question
and tosses it like the chaff it is,
scattering our always
irritating need to somehow
earn
what is simply a gift.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 4th

“His delight is not in the strength of the horse
    nor his pleasure in the speed of a runner,
but the Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him,
    in those who hope in his steadfast love.” Psalm 147:10-11

don’t look for God
in this cutthroat culture
or in the midst of folks
tapping their chests with fists.
it is in the pause between heartbeats,
the wind carrying whispers
of frightened children,
at the street corners where
weary souls gather hoping
to find grace offering them work –
that is where we find
the Holy delighting in us.
for it is not the Olympic
like sprinters who God notices,
but the ones with tender hearts,
with souls welcoming the lonely,
with dogged determination
to get through this obstacle
course we call life, where
goodness and mercy wait
to welcome them at the finish.

(c) 2025 Thom Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 3rd

 “He said to them, ‘The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest.’” Luke 10:2

we pass it every day,
that farm where the crops
God planted and tended
are at their peak, just waiting
for folks to show up
to pick them and take them
to the stores, the parking lot markets,
the pantries in food deserts
where they could offer
tantalizing grace for the forgotten,
abundant justice for the vulnerable,
delicious hope for the lonely.
but since we are convinced
that our education, our work,
our privilege, our faith should
not be wasted on such labor,
folks will continue to starve
for God in their lives.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman