October 28th

“’Let anyone with ears listen!’” Matthew 13:9

imagine—
that it is not the hearing
but that pause between
the word leaving the lips
and when it begins
to tickle our ears.
imagine—
between the first note
of the bird in the morning
and it sinking into
the weariness of our hearts
that a word waits—
a seed tinier than that
mustard seed in Jesus’ hand,
holiness wrapped in hope.
imagine—
all we need
is to cup our hands
like furrows in the dirt
and as silence falls
like gentle spring rain,
grace grows even
if we forget to listen.

(c) 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 27th

“For God alone my soul waits in silence;
   from him comes my salvation.” Psalm 62:1

if i can find the button,
i will power down
my computer and
step away.
if i can figure out
how, i will turn off
my device, or better yet,
leave it behind.
i will take the batteries
out of the remote,
almost ensuring that
i am unable to turn on
the pixels which bewitch me.
and
in the silence,
which at first comforts
me until it begins
to frighten me,
i will wait

for that grace
which is so
counterintuitive
to my tech lifestyle.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 26th

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

there he stood,
pockets full of briefs,
words as sharp as his stylus,
ready to pierce any cross examination.
but Jesus doesn’t fall
for his closing argument,
Jesus doesn’t pull out
scrolls from his back pocket
or call down lightning,
he simply looks at him,
like snow looking for children
wanting to make angels.
for love doesn’t come with a recipe,
mercy with quick set-up pictures,
and so, with grace twinkling in his eye,
Jesus softly asks,
‘why don’t you read
between the lines?’
and just then, between
dust on his feet
and the debate clenched
tight in his mind,
a heart suddenly remembers
how to beat for another.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 25th

“I tell you, on the day of judgement you will have to give an account for every careless word you utter;” Matthew 12:36

if only
those hurtful words
spoken with spite toward
the ones we loved
were inattentive.
if only
those angry words
we gathered up like rocks

and put in the slings
of our tongues to hurl
at those we despised
were impetuous.
if only
those judgmental words
we handed down from
the high court of
self-righteous indignation
were irresponsible.
so
when the day of days
finally comes and we
become tongue-tied,
may it be your word of
grace
which makes all the difference.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 24th

"Let all that you do be done in love." 1 Corinthians 16:14

of course
i can donate
some canned goods
to a food bank
in
making space for
more in my pantry;

i can encourage
others to house
refugee families
in
dealing with
my fears of
them moving into
my neighborhood;

i can hope
the free clinic
manages to keep
its doors open
in
guilt for the
health care benefits
i enjoy because
i am so well off;

but do all these things
(and more)
in
love?

© Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 23rd

“I remember the days of old,
    I think about all your deeds,
    I meditate on the works of your hands.” Psalm 143:5

i sort through those
old pictures, of you watching
me pedal away, as you hold
life’s training wheels you just removed.
i gaze up at the sky
and notice the same stars
you painted on my ceiling
that summer, before heading
downstairs to put the patches
on the jeans i ripped playing
all day long with friends.
i thumb through the diary
i kept in those years when
i pushed every envelope and
tested every boundary you had.
i remember
your persistent patience,
your limitless love,
your full-blown forgiveness
and know, as if it were yesterday,
that you are always with me.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 22nd

“’Where, O death, is your victory?
     Where, O death, is your sting?’” 1 Corinthians 15:55

once
you pushed your way
through shadows of war,
you stuffed your pockets
with IOU bills we foolishly signed,
you sat outside rooms as
families were saying goodbyes
to those they loved.
but now?
now, the door is ripped off its hinges,
now, flowers bloom in rubble,
now, we hear our names whispered
by the one who sat in your bitter chill.
your sting?
now
it bounces off our souls.
your victory?
now
it slips back into the shadows
where you sit in loneliness,
for your once untouchable power
has been reduced to dust
by the laughter of Love.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 21st

 “’Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.’” Matthew 11:28

if your heart has
been shattered into a
jigsaw puzzle which could
never be put together,
come.
if your soul is
rubbed so raw that
no amount of healing balm
will ever cause new skin
to cover the wound,
come.
if your back is creaking
and your shoulders
bowed forwards by more grief
than anyone can imagine,
come,
and i will cradle you in
my grace,
my love,
my hope,
my peace,
my life
for however long
you need.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 20th

He chose our heritage for us,
   the pride of Jacob whom
   he loves. Psalm 47:4

peace,
not power;
hope,
not hatred;
kindness,
not killing;
grace,
not crudeness;
justice,
not oppression;
generosity,
not greed,
these are our
heirlooms.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 19th

During the night Paul had a vision: there stood a man of Macedonia pleading with him and saying, “Come over to Macedonia and help us.” When he had seen the vision, we immediately tried to cross over to Macedonia, being convinced that God had called us to proclaim the good news to them. Acts 16:9-10

(far too) often,
we stand on
the corner, thinking
we have to wait
for the signal to change to
Walk
before we dare
to take hope, grace,
peace, and life
to those who are
waving their emptiness
at us on the
other side.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 18th

“If there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith has been in vain.” 1 Corinthians 15:13-14

if not,
there would be no
blush in any sunrise,
dreams would drift away
like smoke on the wind,
faith would be nothing
but idle gossip,
the grave would be scarier
than all the movies combined.
but—
someone shoved a stone,
our names were whispered,
and despite its damaged wing,
hope took flight to spread
the good news to those
who stayed home that morning.
so, whether we preach, sing,
mumble with parched throats,
we do not live in vain, for
even when days are grim
or shadows threaten to win,
resurrection’s seeds are deep
within us, just waiting
to blossom.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 17th

Now I would remind you, brothers and sisters, of the good news that I proclaimed to you, which you in turn received, in which also you stand, through which also you are being saved, if you hold firmly to the message that I proclaimed to you--unless you have come to believe in vain. 1 Corinthians 15:1-2

in the fellow who carves
out time in his busy travels
to have breakfast with
a rarely seen friend.
in the neighborhood curmudgeon
who spent years making
comments and remarks
about his wife over the years
and now faithfully pushes her
down the sidewalk so she
can visit friends every day.
in the staff and housemates
who gather on a cool afternoon
behind the group home
to watch as a tree is planted
in memory of a resident’s
mom,

the gospel
is still
proclaimed.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 16th

“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.” Matthew 10:40

forget the 76 trombones—
pick up a kazoo and
start a band for the little kids.
no need to run out
and buy a new mat
for the front door,
stand on the porch
and chat with the folks
who are walking by.
one doesn’t have to set
up a big block party,
simply share a sandwich
with the lonely lady
sitting on the park bench.
we don’t have to pay
for a sign on a hot air balloon
and spend a ton on advertising,
we simply open our hearts—
which may be the hardest
choice we may ever make.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 15th

“Brothers and sisters, do not be children in your thinking; rather, be infants in evil, but in thinking be adults.” 1 Corinthians 14:20

we need to learn:
to use our brains,
to sort out our words
before we just toss them
willy-nilly towards others,
but more importantly,
we need to marvel:
at the rose-colored night sky,
at grace that blooms
in the ruins of destruction,
to be able to giggle at the silliness
of little kids fascinated
by the march of ants in dirt.
we need to love simply:
the lined faces of those
who have seen it all,
yet still look for hope,
the open arms of those
who choose innocence over
the cleverness of the world.
we need to grow up,
but never grow weary
of doing good.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 14th

“For his anger is but for a moment;
    his favor is for a lifetime.
Weeping may linger for the night,
    but joy comes with the morning.” Psalm 30:5

it crawled under the covers
acting as if it wanted
to keep me warm,
but then, in the middle
of the night, it came up
and sat by my head
like a curious cat,
its breath ice cold,
its whiskers tickling my cheek.
i let it stay, as usual, because
grief is a creature of yours,
and needs a touch of kindness,
a gentle brushing of its fur.
but sometime during the night,
it slipped away, maybe to hide
in the closet or under the bed.
and when i dared to open my eyes,
i found your grace,
ready for me to slip into it,
like a pair of warm socks.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 13th

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. 1 Corinthians 13:4-8a

love
waits in the rain
for the straggling child
jumping in every puddle;
offers a hand
to the one
who gave a slap;
refuses to give
in to
grudges;
celebrates the frankness
of those who
discomfort it;
it gives birth to grace,
counts on the good in every person,
takes heart in every moment,
bests the worst it is offered;

love never gives up.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 12th

“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
    be acceptable to you,
    O LORD, my rock and my redeemer.” Psalm 19:14


they are not prayers, those
tumbling, mumbling, rumbling words,
some sharp as knives
others as careless as slipping
on an icy sidewalk.
they are not mindfulness aids, those
whispers lingering in the quiet
corners of my soul,
those fears masked as wisdom,
those sighs hiding meanness.
yet, you do not stop listening,
but sift through every syllable,
hoping to find just one tiny spark
of grace flickering in the shadows.
so now, today, in some moments,
hopefully more than i realize,
sew kindness in my words,
let me breathe in sync with you,
and when the words start to
rumble, tumble, jumble, mumble—
steady them (and me) until
i sing praises once again.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 11th

“If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.” 1 Corinthians 13:1-3

if i spellbound the masses
with words which painted pictures
as original as Dali or Kahlo,
but love was not the palette i held,
they would disappear like
chalk drawings in a rainstorm.
if i could offer their tomorrows
to everyone who wondered
what lay ahead of them,
but withheld the love which
they hoped for the most,
they would want to step
back into yesterday.
if i could offer, not just
whatever wealth i have, but
my very being to bring life
to those on edge of despair,
but left love in my back pocket
the transaction would be worthless.
so teach me, Brother Jesus,
not the grammar of greatness,
but the one mother tongue
known to every single person—
love.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 10th

“Create in me a clean heart, O God,
    and put a new and right spirit within me.” Psalm 51:10

into that cardboard box
where yesterday’s fears
just wait to be recycled,
breathe
where the dust from my boasting,
where my impostor syndrome
weaves cobwebs,
where those words i let
escape turn to ashes,
breathe.
whether it is when
the sun unzips the morning,
or the noontime when worries
sit down to eat with me,
or as loneliness draws
the drapes closed at night,
breathe
the rhythm of your grace
the melody of your hope
the gentleness of your love
into me,
making me new
once again.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 9th

“You show me the path of life.
    In your presence there is fullness of joy;
    in your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” Psalm 16:11

the map is not a screen
with squiggly lines,
but that gentle breath
taken between heartbeats
on that journey through
celebration and loss alike.
joy is not so much
a comet racing across the night,
but that lantern we carry
as we walk with friends
on crisp autumn evenings.
each step we take
can be a prayer,
each breath
a carol of grace,
each hand
a reminder that love
walks with us
never letting go.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

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