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