October 19th

I will surely gather all of you, O Jacob,
   I will gather the survivors of Israel;
I will set them together
   like sheep in a fold,
like a flock in its pasture;
   it will resound with people. Micah 2:12

maybe it is the 2 or 3
gathering together.
it could be those
‘hidden righteous ones’
who are scattered only
you know where, O God.
perhaps it is the little kids
on every playground
who make up new games
or even different rules
so everyone can play.
it might even be the woman
who sits on her apartment patio
and casually smiles and greets
everyone who strolls by
even if they never respond.
but in the world where the angry
seem to dominate social media,
in this time when bitterness
has polluted almost every relationship,
in these moments when folks wonder
if there is any decency, justice,
compassion, or grace anymore,
remind us that you always keep
a remnant close to your heart
who will bring the healing of us all.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 18th

“Then he sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone that he was the Messiah.” Matthew 16:20

you are but one among the hungry
yet we keep our pantries locked,
you are the stranger we meet
but let fear silence our welcome,
you lie among the wounded
but our prayers are drowned out
by the vast indifference of the world,
your name is always on our lips
but never when it might cost us something—
which is all okay, we tell ourselves,
we are simply practicing what
you told your friends so long ago.
yet, despite our stubborn silence
you are still here—
in all those places we avoid,
all the people we walk past,
in every grief-stricken heart,
in every shattered life longing
to be seen.
for the world yearns to see Jesus
in believers who begin living
as if he were here
and not just a well-kept secret.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 17th

Take words with you and return to the LORD; say to him, "Take away all guilt; accept that which is good, and we will offer the fruit of our lips. Hosea 14:2

O God of these unsettled days,
when anger shouts
louder than wisdom,
when fear builds walls
where bridges should be,
when we have more opinions
than compassion,
and more reasons to turn away
than to reach out our hands—
teach us the words
that bring us home to you.
take the broken sentences of our lives,
the apologies caught in our throats,
the prayers that stumble over our grief,
and the hopes we hardly dare to whisper.
let us bring them all—
not polished, not perfect,
but honest as the ache in our hearts.
for you have never asked us
to arrive with everything figured out,
only to come with open hands
and hearts willing to begin again.
so receive the words we have, O God,
and make them seeds of mercy,
instruments of peace,
and promises of love
in a world desperate to hear them.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 16th

"O Lord, you have searched me and known me." Psalm 139:1

you know the ghosts that
inhabit the attics of my memories
and those monsters of my id
hiding in the closets and under
the bed on which i lay my weariness.
you know those words of shame,
of criticism, of unkindness written
in the dictionary of my mind
and you have heard those love
songs, those lullabies i composed
for myself in the silence of life.
you know those sirens who sit
on the rocks singing their seduction
and you know those paths i am still
searching for in my heart.
you know,
because you love me enough
to want to know me even more.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 15th

“Yet I have been the LORD your God ever since the land of Egypt; you know no God but me, and besides me there is no savior.” Hosea 13:4

oh, are we good!
at forgetting, that is—
that you didn’t just bring
long-dead ancestors
out of unimaginable lives
in a time covered in dust’s history
but you come far more often
than we notice to offer
a way out of our foolishness.
forgetting that no matter
how many celebrities or
politicians or influencers
we believe can offer us
that impossible life which
is based on today’s equivalent
of smoke and mirrors,
you still pile grace upon grace,
hope upon hope,
peace upon peace
into our empty souls
as you keep your promise
never to forget us.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 14th

And now they keep on sinning and make a cast image for themselves, idols of silver made according to their understanding, all of them the work of artisans. "Sacrifice to these," they say. People are kissing calves! Therefore they shall be like the morning mist or like the dew that goes away early, like chaff that swirls from the threshing floor or like smoke from a window. Hosea 13:2-3

oh, are we good!
at least at making gods
to suit our ridiculous lives—
so shiny, they catch the light,
so small, they slip into our pockets,
so quiet, they never challenge
the choices we make.
we kneel before the idols of our time:
clutching their power,
feeding on their outrage,
worshiping the wealth they promise
(but never carry through on),
turning neighbors into enemies.
is it any wonder
the morning always seems empty,
our promises vanish like the dew,
our fields of plenty leave
too many of us hungry.
so, call us back,
mercy-stubborn God—
from those gods we craft
to that grace we cannot buy,
to the love we dare not hoard,
to justice too long denied,
lest we vanish like the morning fog,
and teach us to become the people
you have been calling us to be—
not creators of idols,
but makers of peace.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 13th

“But as for you, return to your God, hold fast to love and justice, and wait continually for your God.” Hosea 12:6

in these days when so many
have broken their moral compass,
when the world comes apart
at the seams,
and anger gathers like storm clouds
threatening our common life,
God calls us to come home,
like a parent telling kids
playtime is over.
not so we will hide
under our safe blankets,
but to mend the torn places
with the thread of love,
and weave justice into
the fabric of these times
‘hold fast,’ God whispers—
hold fast when fear tries
to pry open our grip on hope,
hold fast when bitterness
taunts us to let go of mercy,
hold fast when the powerful
tell us empathy is for losers.
and as we wait for that future
God is preparing for us
may we be the love
others are longing for.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 12th

Why is it thought incredible by any of you that God raises the dead? Acts 26:8

why do we think defeating death
is an impossible challenge for God?
this is the One who
had no trouble putting
together the platypus
from leftover pieces of creation,
who tucked golden spirals
inside of sunflowers,
who, like an abstract artist
splashed ribbons of color
across the northern sky—
and we think death would
be too much to handle?
i mean, this is God—
constantly surprising us
with life in the unlikeliest places,
who can coax flowers to bloom
in the ruins of cathedrals,
who whispers spring
in the ear of old man winter,
and writes on the pages
of the lives we think are done

the real wonder is not that
God has trouble raising the dead,
but that we keep forgetting
how much God delights in
bringing life out of all those
impossibilities we create
death may indeed be
the worst word
in our vocabulary,
but has never been
the last word God
knows how to say.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 11th

“Then he said to his slaves, ‘The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet.’ Those slaves went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad, so the wedding hall was filled with guests.” Matthew 22:8-9

it’s a party—
invitations to folks who
never thought they’d get one.
the doors are wide open,
the table groans with food.
the weary find room,
the wounded, the wandering,
even the party crashers
are made welcome.
but we sit at home trying to decide—
our Sunday best pretensions,
our designer label righteousness,
that coat of many excuses
we slip into when love calls to us?
but the garment God offers
is woven with mercy and hope,
stitched with justice,
hemmed with humility—
that sort of cloth
Jesus was likely
to wrap around the forgotten,
drape over a stranger,
worn in even place longing
for justice to arrive.
so dress us for the feast, O God.
strip away our indifference.
wrap us in your grace.
then send us from your feast
wearing what we have received—
a love which fits every neighbor,
the welcome which is always in style.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 10th

“You have plowed wickedness, you have reaped injustice, you have eaten the fruit of lies. Because you have trusted in your power and in the multitude of your warriors,” Hosea 10:13

we use injustice as our plow,
sowing seeds of fear,
and then wonder why only sorrow grows.
we make sure anger’s thistles
receive as much water as needed,
and build fences as high as we can
to keep the outsiders out.
we place trust in might,
use wealth to wield power,
cling to the certainty
of those truths we create—
while the soils of our souls
hardens and cracks from
the drought of compassion.
still
you hand out seeds of grace
showing us a better way to plant—
sowing kindness not cruelty,
scattering justice not oppression,
planting peace in war’s fallow fields
continue to turn us, God,
that what we dare to plant
might be worthwhile for the community
you imagine for all your people.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman 
Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 9th

“When a great crowd gathered and people from town after town came to him, he said in a parable:” Luke 8:4

the algorithm knew everything—
the posts which would feed its anger,
the stories which just had to be true,
the ads which would max out its credit,
those voices which could incite a mob,
the confirmation that everyone thought the same.
oh yes,
the algorithm knew everything
about everybody—
except the name of the one
sitting next to it in church,
except how lonely the widow
it greeted every evening was,
except what the favorite book
of the librarian who assisted it
every time it walked through the doors.
then one week
the preacher urged
‘love your neighbor’
and the algorithm immediately
opened its search engine—
‘best neighbors near me’

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 8th

“God is a refuge for us.” Psalm 62:8c

when fear
sends us running
through streets
we no longer recognize,
when doors
we thought would open
close quietly
behind us,
and the world
pulls its curtains
against our cries—
you do not
turn away.
you stand
in the doorway,
arms open,
your heart
a shelter
wide enough
for all of us—
reminding us
that refuge
is not a place
we must find,
but a love
that has already
found us.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 7th

“For they sow the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.” Hosea 8:7a

we sow fear—
words sharp as weapons,
truth twisted to suit us,
anger’s seeds scattered across
the lives of our neighbors.
we sow suspicion
and wonder why trust
does not blossom,
we sow cruelty
and do not understand
as its harvest comes
roaring down our streets.
as the prophet warned:
wind fraught with bitterness
does not simply blow itself out—
it gathers,
it rises,
becoming a whirlwind.
yet, you call us, God
to other fields—
mercy replacing malice,
peace planted where once
there was a bumper crop of pride,
compassion instead of contempt.
so may we learn that
what we plant today
is the harvest our children
will gather tomorrow.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 6th

“When Jesus heard this he was amazed at him, and turning to the crowd that followed him, he said, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.” Luke 7:9

waiting for the fireworks
we miss faith’s small sparks—
a little boy, at the ready
hoping mom will teach him
how to bend the ball.
a widower who wanders
in the rain, searching for
the dog who slipped its leash
when a sudden peal of thunder
scared them both out of their
usually comfortable walk.
we think faith needs
to fall from heaven,
announcing itself on
every media platform,
but maybe it is simply
a small light in the dark,
 hand reaching for another,
 quiet choosing of hope,
a quiet trust that
even in the shadowed valleys
God walks with us,
a life which refuses
to believe for a single moment
that grace does not have
the final word in our lives.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 5th

"The voice of the LORD causes the oaks to whirl,
    and strips the forest bare;
and in his temple all say, 'Glory!'” Psalm 29:9

i have rested in old chairs

worn smooth by so many generations

and listened to their silent

prayers lodged in the memories

of the river stones in the walls,

and whispered, 'glory!'

i have taken my place in

decision-making church bodies

where the same discussion

keeps being tabled until

the very next meeting, and

muttered under my breath,

'good grief.'

i have sat on carpet squares

as little kids gathered around

to listen to a book being read

while their attention and hands

were distracted by the golden

retriever curled up on the floor

and sang to myself, 'thank you!'

  

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman 

October 4th

“Let us know, let us press on to know the Lord;
   his appearing is as sure as the dawn;
he will come to us like the showers,
   like the spring rains that water the earth." Hosea 6:3

it feels like a house filled
with too many angry voices,
too many alarms and CCTV,
too many reasons for fear.
so, in this world, perhaps
faith is simply the courage
to keep turning toward God—
not because everything is clear
but because the sun keeps rising.
not because all wounds are mended
but because rain still nourishes thirsty ground.
not because we know what tomorrow brings,
but because God waits for us there.
so, teach us to press on,
Persistent God—
not with certainty
but complete trust,
not toward all the answers
but toward your grace.
and whenever we grow weary,
remind us that
your faithfulness is not a sunrise
we need to make sure happens,
but your Light which keeps rising,
that we might rise with it.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 3rd

“Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven;” Luke 6:37

really, Jesus?!
don’t you understand
how much we want
to judge others, to
put on those robes,
sit high above
all those knuckleheads
and look down our noses
before banging the gavel
and pronouncing sentence?
so delicious,
so wonderful,
such a gratifying experience.
and forgiveness?
that’s for suckers, isn’t it,
or for weak-kneed
lily-livered losers?
after all, who doesn’t like
getting into the face
of someone and letting them
know
exactly how we feel.
is it any wonder,
the rich and powerful
and their religious toadies
are trying to recraft you
into a more macho,
more confrontational,
more like us sort of God?

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 2nd

“My people consult a piece of wood, and their divining rod gives them oracles.” Hosea 4:12a

back then,
it was a piece of wood,
a stone, a statue of gold or silver,
while today
it is a celebrity, that headline,
maybe a poll, or that glowing screen—
all voices telling us exactly
what we already long to hear.
we ask these modern divining rods
for answers and then wonder
why we cannot hear God.
so maybe that old prophet
would advise us
to mute the anger,
to power down the device,
to quit asking the world
to tell us who we are,
and turn to the One
who does not need
to be programmed,
carved, sculpted, molded,
or supersized—
the God who speaks
in the voices of the forgotten
the God who sits
in the mess with us,
the God who refuses
to turn away from us,
the heart who always
loves us.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 1st

“Therefore the land mourns, and all who live in it languish; together with the wild animals and the birds of the air, even the fish of the sea are perishing.” Hosea 4:3

creation has slipped into sackcloth,
birds are dusted with ashes,
fishes mingle their tears with water,
animals wear black armbands—
all bearing the wounds we make.
for we take
without giving thanks,
we consume
without a hint of moderation,
we expend water and air,
land and resources, even people,
as if you were an eternal ATM,
O God, constantly replenishing
everything we want or need.
yet, you are the One through
whom all things were and
and in whom all things
can be made new.
so may the groaning of creation
become the words of our prayer
for repentance which makes us turn
from treating your good earth
as if it were completely disposable,
and our turning into acts of mercy
for your creatures we act as if
their lives do not matter
as much as our own,
and our acts into the holy work
of repairing what we have damaged.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 30th

“Praise the Lord!
   How good it is to sing praises to our God;
   for he is gracious, and a song of praise is fitting.” Psalm 147:1

one day it is that
golden oldie which brings back
memories as old as the song,
while at night it is that
earworm of a jingle which
we just can’t stop replaying.
it could be the gentle purring
of the cat next to us
or the soft, contented
thumping of the dog’s tail.
there is the classical melody
played by the wind as it
moves the leaves in trees
on a fall evening
and the cacophony
of pots and pans pulled out
of kitchen cabinets by
bored kids on a rainy day.
it is the last night
at the BBC Proms,
or it could be that student
playing a soft piece
on the saxophone as
their teacher is laid to rest.
praise is that multi-faceted
heirloom of which we
are heirs but for a moment.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 29th

and I will sow him for myself in the land. And I will have pity on Lo-ruhamah, and I will say to Lo-ammi, "You are my people"; and he shall say, "You are my God." Hosea 2:23

listen to what God has to say—
to those who are silenced:
you are my closest advisors,
the voices i turn to first.
to the transgender kids
who are bullied by politicians
and ultra-righteous prigs:
you are my Beloved,
I rejoice in you.
to the immigrants who
are turned away by fear:
there is always room
for you in my Community.
to all who bear
the bruises, the scars,
the wounds, the memories
inflicted by the cruel who
claim to care for all:
I wrap you in the shawl
of grace, woven from the
threads of love and hope.
to all the forgotten, 
the vulnerable, the discounted,
the lost, the grieving, the lonely:
I am your God,
you are my people,
and always will be.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 28th

“From there I will give her her vineyards, and make the Valley of Achor a door of hope.” Hosea 2:15a

so many valleys—
where grief wears a path
through our hearts,
where hard news comes
far too often,
where we worry that
hope has packed
its moving van.
yet, God always manages
to plant gardens in that soil
we think will only yield tears,
in those trouble-filled hearts
which, by grace, become doors
opening to the forgotten.
so, may doors of hope
open in a child learning
to step out in trust,
in neighbors choosing
to listen and not shout,
in caregiver holding the hand
of the lonely,
in hands which reach over
those walls we build
to keep others out, to welcome
them to our community.
perhaps hope is nothing more
than the door God opens
in the troubled valleys of life,
inviting us to walk through
together.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 27th

"'The kingdom of heaven is like . . .'" Matthew 13:44a

the restaurant where there
are no reserved seats
and the hungry do not
need to prove they deserve a table.
the stranger who sees someone
standing alone at a gathering
and invites them to join
the conversation.
the streets where doors
are left unlocked because
neighbors know they are responsible
for the safety of others.
the politician who knows
that power is not a throne
but a towel and basin.
every faith community which asks
‘who is missing?’ and not
who belongs here?’
the bread which is broken
not hoarded and the grace
shared before it is earned.
enemies who realize that
the other has a face, a story,
a struggle, a name.
God’s Beloved Community
breaks through the cracks
of our world—
wherever mercy has the last word,
justice welcomes the forgotten,
love makes up the spare room,
for it does not come
with trumpets and lightning
but when we actually live
as if it is already here.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 26th

“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

we thirst, our God—
in streets where weariness
is the way of life,
homes where silence
speaks instead of words,
hearts shriveled by grief,
loneliness, all those headlines
which make hope despair.
so many wells around us,
yet we are parched.
our fingers dance over
our devices for answers,
we go to all the sales on comfort,
we scream our truths
across the abysses—
all the while wondering why
our souls are death valleys.
but maybe—
our thirst itself might become
prayers where you meet us,
pouring the water of life
into those hidden cracks,
until our weary souls
remember—
you never mean for us
to live without you.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 25th

"By the rivers of Babylon— there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion." Psalm 137:1

there are rivers
found on no maps—
trickling down hospital corridors,
flowing with tears,
flooding refugee camps,
rushing through neighborhoods
where sirens are the lullabies
children hear each night.
there are those rivers
on which float

the names of
all those we have lost,
the flotsam and jetsam of dreams,
the familiar places we no longer
can call home.
perhaps this is where
faith can begin—
not building bridges
over the sorrows of others,
but by sitting on the banks
beside them in silence,
listening to the waters,
daring to weep
as their tears flow.
for God
has never tried to dam
our rivers of tears,
but simply slips into
the waters to be with us

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 24th

“So the word of the Lord grew mightily and prevailed.” Acts 19:20

sometimes
your word is like a
massive oak tree whose
roots sink deep within us,
or again, like those puffs
from a dandelion which float
and dance in the air.
sometimes
your word is that sharp rebuke
our partner offers when
we think we can get away
with all sorts of foolishness,
or again, that soft whisper
in the middle of the night,
‘it’s okay, don’t be scared.
i am here beside you.’
sometimes
your word comes in those
ponderous, theological phrases
of the preacher strutting their stuff,
or again, in silly songs
children make up on the swings
in the playground
as we walk by with our dog.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 23rd

He entered the synagogue and for three months spoke out boldly, and argued persuasively about the kingdom of God. Acts 19:8

oh, but we are good when
it comes to God’s Beloved Community!
we preach about it,
sing about it, and love
to debate it,
even trading potshots over it.
but it doesn’t show up
because of the right words—
but when a child is included
and not ignored;
when the struggling
are given a hand, not a label;
when we share a meal
with the hungry, without ever
wondering what poor choices they made;
when strangers are welcomed
as neighbors without us
asking where they came from;
when all those whose nametags
read ‘them’ become part
of us.
after all,
it is not based on our beliefs,
it is rooted in what our love
dares us to do in stepping
outside our comfort zone
into God’s vision for humanity.
because,
whether we believe it or not,
even like it or not,
Jesus does not call us
to win arguments
about the Beloved Community,
but simply to become
its living proof.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 22nd

"I call upon you, O Lord; come quickly to me;
   give ear to my voice when I call to you." Psalm 141:1

we sit by the window

with the lamp illuminating

the page we keep reading

and re-reading because 

we keep glancing down the road,

wondering if, like the prodigal,

we might see you coming,

so we can rush out to throw

our arms around you and 

begin to tell you all that has

been happening to us, all

the worries which weigh us down,

all the fears which stalk us,

every word we dare not utter

to anyone else but you.

and all the while, you sit

in the shadowed corner,

a cup of tea warming your hands,

wondering if we will ever notice

that you are not the one 

in this strange relationship

who has drifted away.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 21st

"And the crowds asked him, 'What then should we do?'" Luke 3:10

in the midst of the crowd at the rally,
inspired by the impassioned rhetoric
of the speakers, we loudly proclaim
our commitment to speaking the truth,
but we go home, and there is the person
we have known for decades as not
just a neighbor, but also a friend, and
they are posting a sign in their yard
with a message which breaks our heart.
and now,
what shall we do?
remain silent, not wanting to hurt
this relationship, this person, this
soul we have always known to be
as good and gentle as our very own?
simply post our own sign, hoping
that might serve as a statement
of honest differences of opinion?
or shall we take that hesitant
first step, our hand open wide
in peace and trust, hoping that
relationships are stronger than rhetoric,
that common bonds are uncommonly strong,
that truth can be found in hearts
which care more for others
then slogans on signs in two yards?

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 20th

“Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves.” James 1:22

sorry, folks,
but the world has had
more than enough of our words.
we sing about grace,
while refusing to share it
with any who offend us.
we protest loudly for justice,
but build high walls around
our comfort zones.
sermon after sermon
speaks about compassion
and we drive past the wounded
as we travel home.
we celebrate inclusion with
flags, hymns, prayers, signs
but there is always someone
we won’t let into our circle.
so remember—
grace must serve meals,
mercy must walk our towns,
love must cross boundaries.
otherwise, the gospel becomes
only something we say, while
the broken, the forgotten,
the lonely, the silenced,
wait desperately for someone,
any one (!) to do the Word.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @ThomShuman

September 19th

“While Paul was waiting for them in Athens, he was deeply distressed to see that the city was full of idols.” Acts 17:16

so many things around us,
making us afraid to live without them—
boutiques and malls telling us
we need so much more stuff
technology which entices us
with newer, faster devices
politicians who warn us
we have to destroy ‘them’
social media which urges us
to know what everyone is doing
financial folks who warn us
we need more security
influencers who seduce us
with wanting more likes, more followers.
but what if we walked our streets
with Paul’s aching heart and
the compassionate eyes of Jesus—
might we discover, in the midst
of all those well-disguised idols
where the hunger for God
is hiding?

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

nmo: @ThomShuman

September 16th

“I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you;” Job 42:5

so, so many people talking—
preachers and pundits,
politicians and podcasters,
neighbors and naysayers,
all absolute in knowing what
we need to hear about God.
but those who help us to see
God? almost an endangered species.
for God is seen
with the silent sufferers
not in all the shouting,
with those sharing mercy
not in those demanding judgment,
with those whose compassion
sees everyone as family
not as threats and enemies.
like Job,
we don’t need all the answers
but simply to open our eyes.
so may our prayer each day be,
‘shush the voices of all who are
rock stars at talking about you,
God among us,
and open our eyes so that
now, we finally see you
in all those places,
all those people,
we never noticed before.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 15th

“Gladden the soul of your servant,
   for to you, O Lord, I lift up
   my soul.” Psalm 86:4

you gladden our souls—
with the cold, damp nose
that nuzzles our hand
until we surrender
to paws dancing on the floor,
to a leash stretched taut,
to puffs of breath like clouds
in the early dawn.
with the full moon
tiptoeing through the window
laying a silver path across
the rumpled quilt,
as if heaven forgot
to shut the door.
with that soft weight
of a sleeping child in our arms,
a hand pressed
against our heart,
as we breathe in
the scent of its trust.
gladden us
with such everyday miracles—
a swishing tail,
moonlight blanketing our partner,
the gentle breath of a sleeping child.
unannounced mercies
from your overflowing heart.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @ThomShuman

September 14th

“Look on all who are proud, and bring them low; tread down the wicked where they stand.” Job 40:12

we enjoy playing King of the mountain,
piling up our little hills of certainty
so we can look down at all
who are not like us
we make out lists
from headlines and hashtags,
rumors shared until we think
they must be the truth,
and those names we call
other people whenever
we become angry and scared.
from our high ground,
we can point at all of them—
the problems,
the sinners,
the fools,
the faithless.
and God waits beneath the smoke
of those bridges we burned,
hoping we will notice
our dirty hands
and that we no longer
stand on holy ground.
maybe the first step
toward justice is not
trying to climb higher
but coming down—
kneeling in that dust
where mercy always waits
for us to remember
we are only human.

(c( 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@ThomShuman

September 13th

“The heavens are telling the glory of God,
   and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.” Psalm 19:1

once, we would lie
on our backs finding
wonderful shapes in the clouds
scudding across the sky—
now we are so glued
to our screens
we never notice the sky.
once,
we would laugh, shout, and
dance in the rain as it
soaked our clothes, us,
and all of our friends—
now, we grumble every time
the weather folks even
warn about the possibility
of showers.
once,
we would try to catch
as many snowflakes as
we could on our tongues
and then make angels
in the snow with each other—
now, we see only
the inconvenience of having
to shovel or fire up snowblowers.
perhaps the reason
we could care less about creation
is we no longer see it
through the eyes of
wonder and joy, wanting it
to last forever.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @ThomShuman

 

September 12th

“we have decided unanimously to choose representatives and send them to you, along with our beloved Barnabas and Paul,” Acts 15:25

for every well-known televangelist,
there is that neighbor
who goes around dropping
fresh vegetables on porches
because they grew too many
(intentionally)
for every famous author
who requires fees for
their book signings,
there is the volunteer
sitting in a quiet corner
of the library listening and
encouraging a child to read.
for every influencer who
has a spot on every platform,
there is that fellow using
his no-tech box full of tools
to tighten, fix, and spruce up
mobility devices at senior centers.
for every big name in any field,
there are those no-names
who are remembered because
they never wanted the spotlight,
but only to pass a gift on to
someone else no one knew.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 11th

“When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." John 10:32

it is the whisper of that grief
we carry which is too heavy to bear:
“Lord, if you had been here…”
whispered in the smoke and falling ashes,
carved in the bench in a backyard,
wrapped like a tefillin around our hearts
through years of war,
the reading of names
with silence after each,
the lowering of flags,
coffins and urns 

placed in sacred ground,
the lives divided into
before and after forever.
Jesus does not give a reason
or try to defend heaven’s silence
but simply draws near,
and maybe that is how
faith is rekindled—
not with answers, but
simply by the One who
steps into our weeping,
sits with us in hope’s ashes,
and will not leave us there.
one year, twenty-five, a lifetime—
we still remember,
and it may be that
God remembers as well,
not to rip off a scab,
but to keep reminding us
that sorrow does not
have that final word.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @ThomShuman

September 10th

“If I have withheld anything that the poor desired, or have caused the eyes of the widow to fail,” Job 31:16

i never realized it
came from old Job:
that apology we hear
all too often in our times—
“if I have yada yada yada”
in which the speaker makes clear
if there was any offense
or hurt, it was due to
the attitude of the injured,
not the speaker.
the hungry aren’t asking
for a banquet, just a
decent meal,
the widow simply wants us
to see the emptiness
of her life,
the forgotten would like us
to realize they have a name
which is not ‘get lost.’
in truth, others don’t want
some sort of
one-size-fits-all apology,
but people who are
as honest as Job in confronting
our failures in treating others
as we demand to be treated.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @ThomShuman

September 9th

“The night racks my bones, and the pain that gnaws me takes no rest.” Job 30:17

for some reason,
the platitudes and poems
never mention the sharp
teeth grief comes with—
it finds those tender spots
we thought we had hidden
and nibbles at the little
strength we try to husband.
that cottage industry
never tells one of how
our bones which ache—
from the memory of a kiss,
the fading sound of a laugh,
the feathery touch
of an imagined hand,
the whisper of that name
which makes the hollow space
even emptier,
are placed on the rack
as grief, slowly, gleefully
turns the wheel
we can’t explain it,
make peace with it,
or dress it up in those
comforting words of therapy
but only hope that God
sits with us,
in those restless hours
until, somehow—
morning comes.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

September 8th

“As with a deadly wound in my body,
    my adversaries taunt me,
while they say to me continually,
    “Where is your God?” Psalm 42:10

like a stone thrown through
that window cracked by grief,
the world hurls the age-old
question to us every day.
and we search our sanctuaries,
we long for answers to show up,
we offer the well-worn platitude
that everything will turn out well.
but maybe
God is in that hand
reaching across the table
to the lonely curmudgeon,
in the stranger who listens
to us in the airplane,
in the children who would
stop believing in Santa Claus
before they give up on kindness,
in the weary single parent
who gets up every morning
and tries again.
e might not always
recognize God among us,
but wherever compassion
interrupts cruelty’s rants,
wherever folks with trembling
knees push back against hate,
wherever love will never
leave anyone behind—
God is already there,
waiting patiently for us.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @ThomShuman

September 7th

“Again the Jews were divided because of these words.” John 10:19

it still happens.
Jesus speaks—
and folks find themselves
standing on opposite sides
of the same words.
where one hears weakness,
another listens to mercy
where some hear threats,
others hear a warm welcome
where we might hear
the voice of the One
who gathers us like a
shepherd with wandering sheep,
there are those who build fences
to keep the scattered out
we all do it—
clutch his words like
weapons in our hands,
ignoring his longing for us
to lay down those stones
of course,
if we argue so much over
whose side Jesus is on,
we continue to forget
that he has on been on
the side where love
is trying to bridge
every divide.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

September 6th

“No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house.” Matthew 5:15

may
we be

the spotlight
finding the nervous student
memorizing lines
for her first play—

the flashlight
illuminating the pages
for the refugee
learning the language
of a new country,
a new beginning;

the nightlight
glowing beside
the cancer patient
through the frightening
hours of treatment—

and may we also be
the small candle
left burning
in the window
for someone
who has forgotten
the way home.

may our light
never be
for ourselves alone—
but always
more light
for someone
walking through
the shadows.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

September 5th

"Oh, that I knew where I might find him, that I might come even to his dwelling!” Job 23:3

we act as if you
play hide and seek,
in corners of places
we never think to look:
sermons
worship spaces,
answers we can hold.
when all the while
you are in the woman
helping to mop up
a flooded basement,
in the hands crafting
a playground where every
child can be welcomed,
in that man who gives up
his treasured cave
so a foster child has
their first room ever,
in that stranger becoming neighbor,
in that neighbor becoming friend,
in every small and stubborn
act of grace,
hope,
justice,
peace.
we keep looking for you
in all the wrong places,
while you wait
for us to simply
notice.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

September 4th

“For I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth; and after my skin has been thus destroyed, then in my flesh I shall see God,” Job 19:25-26

oh, how we hope
you are right, Job.
there are days when
we whisper it to ourselves,
and middle-of-the-nights
when the words catch
in our throats like a stone.
for grief manages to empty
the rooms inside our souls—
the laughter of others
echoing in places they
no longer inhabit.
still—
we hunger for hope,
not because we accept
why they are absent,
not because death finally
manages to make sense,
but because,
hidden away under
all the heartbreak,
the memories threatening
to slip from our minds,
the questions we tire of asking
and the platitudes the world offers,
especially the soul-eating silence—
we hear a faint heartbeat
that death cannot muffle.
and so, God of every broken heart,
meet us,
not after the tears stop,
not when we find the words,
not when the pictures begin to fade,
but here—
in the breaking of all
that we thought would never end,
until, somewhere, sometime,
somehow, we see Life
standing beside us,
making us whole once again.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

September 3rd

"where then is my hope?
   Who will see my hope?" Job 17:15

it is there, folks.
in the classmates
who sit with the ones
everyone else mocks,
in that silly dog
who thinks every stranger
needs a sloppy kiss,
in the grandfather
explaining to the one
who will inherit his tools
how to best use them,

in every person who plants

seeds of grace, kindness,

justice, and peace in 

that garbage dump called

social media,
in the teacher who refuses
to believe that the new child
in her class deserves
the passed-on label ‘difficult’—
hope is there, folks,
every place
every day
every moment
every chance
every person

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

September 2nd

“my transgression would be sealed up in a bag, and you would cover over my iniquity.” Job 14:17

that person over there
looks like you would need
a bag from a vacuum
for all their foolish mistakes.
and the one next door
probably requires one of those
33-gallon heavy duty trash bags.
while ours, of course, would only
take the smallest zipper bag.
but lest we forget,
God doesn’t seem interested
in hiding our sins
where we can pretend
they never happened.
yet, the good news is that
our grudges, those words
we wish we had never said,
those small betrayals which
seemed to expand overnight
are gathered up, all of it,
all of us, gathered, held,
in God’s hands—
and, somehow,
they are not held
against us
forever.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

September 1st

“Will you speak falsely for God, and speak deceitfully for him?” Job 13:7

where is the Job
for these times, when we
invoke God as if
hatred were holy,
cruelty were courage
fear was the new faith?
where is the voice
we need to hear
in these days,
as people try to wrap violence
in the garments of grace
and claim that our enemies
are the ones God despises as well?
perhaps faith, the faith we need
takes place when we close our mouths
long enough to let God speak
in the cry of the vulnerable,
the outsider in the community,
the frightened children—
and if we dare to listen,
we might realize that if
our faith needs hatred
to prove we are holy,
it may not be God
we keep defending.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

August 31st

“I am a laughingstock to my friends; I, who called upon God and he answered me, a just and blameless man, I am a laughingstock.” Job 12:4

ah, Job, you knew
what it was like to speak truth
and hear laughter instead of listening.
we know it as well these days—
empathy being mocked as weakness,
kindness seen as naïve,
when cries for justice are dismissed
even before they are heard.
Still, Job, you remind us
that being ridiculed
does not diminish truth.
so may we not be too eager
to offer the easy laugh,
to make quick judgments,
to dismiss others from
the comfort of our certainty—
but let us listen,
especially to those whose pain
makes us squirm.
for it just might be
that the voice we laugh away
is the one God is using
to snap us out of our
self-perceived blamelessness.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

August 30th

“You will lie down, and no one will make you afraid; many will entreat your favor.” Job 11:19

told whom to fear,
what to be afraid of,
who is coming after us,
who we must blame,
has become our new currency—
shared from screen to screen,
screed to screed,
street to street.
but if we dare to dig beneath
the bitterness and sound bites,
the outrage and never-ending quarrels,
we might just hear that ancient promise—
‘you will lie down
and no one can make you afraid.’
not because the world has shouted
‘olly, olly, oxen free,’
or that justice no longer matters,
but that we don’t give fear power
over how we choose to live.
this morning, every morning
this day, every day,
this night, every night
ay fear not have the last word,
as we live in courage,
we give away compassion,
we share in the quiet conviction
that we belong to one another—
and that God’s grace
is still wider than our fear.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

August 29th

 "'Why did you bring me forth from the womb? Would that I had died before any eye had seen me,'" Job 10:18

if you think i am good at complaining,

it's because i learned from the best.

those ancestors whose photos have

faded over the years until they look

like the dirt of Sinai they carried on

their sandals and clothes for decades.

it's from listening to the stories 

that the disciples forgot to redact

from the good news books 

they were so quick to self-publish,

with those clueless comments 

when they couldn't understand 

those simple, everyday stories you told,

or those knuckleheaded challenges

they threw in your face when you

let slip that your journey was going

to end with you crossing over into

a different sort of promised land.

so,

when i whine (and i will)

when i grumble (too many times)

when i murmur under my breath

thinking you can't read my lips,

be as patient, as forgiving,

as willing to stick with me 

like you were with all those 

whose words i am just repeating

(even though i think they are brand new).

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 28th

 "'If he would take his rod away from me, and not let dread of him terrify me, then I would speak without fear of him, for I know I am not what I am thought to be.'" Job 9:34-35

it was not out of faith
i began to follow you

but out of pure fear, of

all those terrible things 

dumped on me by folks

who crafted you out of the 

monsters of their own ids

and the preachers who were

simply echoing what they heard

sitting on those same hard pews

which became warmer with every word.

they still show up in the moments

when i wake up to stare into 

the shadowed future i cannot see,

those ghosts of worship past,

walking, watching, whispering.

but then,

i glance over and notice 

that rod which a young carpenter 

repurposed into a yoke

so we could journey together, 

i see you sitting in the corner,

draped in the warm shawl of grace

knitted by your gentle Spirit, just

waiting for me to listen to your

deepest hopes for me.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 27th

“He will yet fill your mouth with laughter, and your lips with shouts of joy. Those who hate you will be clothed with shame, and the tent of the wicked will be no more." Job 8:21-22

sorrow takes up far
too much room and delight
is like the stranger at our door,
so perhaps it is time
to go back to school
and relearn how to speak joy
once again for, as Job reminds us,
God remembers our laughter
and will let it slip back into our lives—
quiet as a friend’s surprising kindness,
gentle as sunlight tiptoeing
along the kitchen floor,
graceful as the song
which reminds us of
a treasured memory,
the soft moment when
when remember we are still here.
which might be all we need--
leaving the space
for laughter to slip in ,
learning to trust the God
who cradles our tears
longs to put a smile
back on our faces.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

August 26th

“If I sin, what do I do to you, you watcher of humanity? Why have you made me your target? Why have I become a burden to you?” Job 7:20

blessed be Job who,
whether foolishly or courageously,
dares to ask God that question
we are too afraid to speak:
‘do we burden you, Holy One?’
and perhaps, in that moment,
grace begins—
not in the pause which just sits there,
but in the realization that
God is not afraid of the question.
for grace does not tell us
to stop asking questions,
it whispers of burdens shared,
reminding us that even when
we think God is not there,
when our prayers feel like
rocks skipped across ponds
until they sink,
God’s heart always turns
toward us, for God loves us
when we are shattered,
when we are filled with rage,
when all we can do is ask why—
which may be all we need
in such moments, to trust
God has not let go of us.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 25th

"When many of his disciples heard it, they said, 'This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?'" John 6:60

on a scale of 1 to 10
with 10 being how much
we can love our selves,
loving you is (we hope) 7.5,
loving our neighbors 5.6
(on really good days), but
loving our enemies . . .
does a negative number count?
and while we might manage
a $10 weekly pledge on a
pretty regular basis, and if
we make it big in life, we
can probably stretch to a tithe,
are you serious or just delirious
about giving away everything?
but then, as we grow older,
if we pay attention to all the
broken promises, the hollow words
of everyone around us, maybe
we can finally grasp the truth
that your words, your uncomfortable
and challenging and (yes) dangerous
words
are those which give us the life we
need.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 24th

"O Lord, all my longing is known to you;
   my sighing is not hidden from you." Psalm 38:9

convinced they know me
so well, they easily accept
those answers of how fine
i am doing, or that life is
simply going along swimmingly.
but i have become so adept
at keeping secret what is
lodged in my heart, i am
so cautious in letting anyone
get near my soul, for fear
they would hear the rattling
of the skeletons which are
not bones and the whispers
of ghosts which abide in me.
yet,
like an oyster farmer who knows
that there is a pearl of grace
deep within my crusty shell,
like a teacher who realizes
that the smiling child who never
says anything in class has
stories which will melt one's heart,
you calmly, patiently, persistently
wait, until we are ready to open up.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 23rd

"If one ventures a word with you, will you be offended? But who can keep from speaking?” Job 4:2

that old question from a dusty book
seems strangely modern, doesn’t it?
for in this moment when
almost any word can hurt,
any disagreement becomes
a declaration of war,
and uncomfortable truths
are just offenses waiting to happen,
we tend to hesitate.
but perhaps we just need to
speak – but gently as we can,
listen – as deeply as we can,
and when someone
(especially a friend) 

says something
we don’t want to hear,
leave some room for grace.
because usually,
the most loving thing
we dare offer to another
is not total agreement,
but the courage
to speak the truth
and the humility to hear
without getting all bent
out of shape.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 22nd

“For my sighing comes like my bread, and my groanings are poured out like water.” Job 3:24

grief can have a way
of becoming our daily bread—
sighs we cannot put down,
memories we cannot pretend away,
words we begin to speak aloud
into that all too familiar silence.
the glimpse of that chair
gently holding absence,
those towels still hanging
on the rack in their bathroom,
the reading glasses on that
unfinished book on the nightstand—
and tears groan from our eyes.
perhaps
when we think we need
to keep putting up a brave front
or force a smile as we
mover through the days,
we can simply bring our grief
into the heart of God,
where even the most silent
of sighs become prayers
God understands
all too well.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 21st

“They sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.” Job 2:13

we don’t always need
the solution to every problem,
or to come up with the
perfect answer,
do the right thing, or
even try to fill pauses
with words which only
amplify the silence.
sometimes
when a friend is going
through a patch so rough
it defies explanations,
or too deep to fill
with multitudes of platitudes,
or even too holy
for us to dare touch,
in that space, maybe
all we can do is
sit in the dust with them,
letting our presence whisper—
‘you are not alone.’
no making everything better,
no rushing to the next step,
no advice we read somewhere.
simply
being there
until the silence
is not so lonely.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 20th

“Transgression speaks to the wicked
    deep in their hearts;
there is no fear of God
    before their eyes.” Psalm 36:1

we like to believe
that these words do not
speak about us at all
but
when
we close our eyes
and see the demons
prancing in our minds,
when
we look into our souls
withered by memes and posts,
when 

we dare to walk down 

into the basement
of our hearts where we keep
evil locked in storage,
when
we let those words of anger
swirl in our mouths
like the finest of whines,
when 

we take a forkful
of bitterness which tastes
so good we want
others to try a bite,
when

we revel in the cruelty
we could so easily toss
another’s way—
we know,
oh yes, we know
that truth which seems
ancient is still
fresh as this moment.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 19th

 

“There are many who say,
    ‘O that we might see
     some good!
Let the light of your face
     shine on us, O LORD!’" Psalm 4:6

the aide who
tenderly cares for
the medically
fragile student;

the taxi drivers
who work extra
shifts,
their tips going
to a co-worker's
cancer fund;

the young people
who spend their
gap year
with the families
living in poverty

rather than following

a singer around the world,

your face shines
through so many
people!

© Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 18th

“And Saul approved of their killing him.” Acts 8:1

let us be clear—
our hands are clean
for we have not picked
up any weapon and actually
caused the death of another.
but in our apathetic complicity
in the face of senseless wars
in which lives are lost
without any apparent remorse,
in our silence
when transgender kids
are mocked and bullied,
in giving up
reaching out to
elected officials because
they never respond,
in simply getting angry
at all the posts/memes/reels
showing all the cruelty,
hate, isms in the world
rather than challenging
the systemic causes—
in truth,
we approve slowly 

killing our souls.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 17th

"Praise the Lord! Praise the name of the Lord;
   give praise, O servants of the Lord,
you that stand in the house of the Lord,
   in the courts of the house of our God." Psalm 135:1-2

you nervous parents as
leg jiggling kids get on the bus,
you teachers lining the walks
to cheer them a welcome,
join hands in a circle of joy.
you lifelong farmers and
weekend gardeners, you
lawn care workers and
farmers markets shoppers,
dance jigs in the rain after
weeks of drought conditions.
you who sit by the beds of
strangers in hospital rooms
who don't know who you
are but are in your care,
you first responders and
street pastors who rush
to gather up the fallen,
the forgotten, the damaged,
and the delusional,
sing soft dirges of hope
in the small hours of night.
everyone, everywhere,
wherever God is and
however God is found,
sing from your hearts!

© Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 16th

Examine yourselves to see whether you are living in the faith. Test yourselves. Do you not realize that Jesus Christ is in you?--unless, indeed, you fail to meet the test! 2 Corinthians 13:5

we think we
need to show how
rigid we can be,
but the final
answer is compassion;
we memorize the
formula which conclusively
proves the errors of everybody,
but forgiveness is
like pi—
it goes on and on,
beyond what we can measure;
we can write a
lengthy essay on judgment,
but the only word
on the spelling test?
love.

perhaps it is not about
whether we know
all the right answers,
but whether Christ
is alive in us.
so look within.
test your heart.
check the margins
for mercy,
the footnotes
for grace,
the places where
compassion has been
written into the ordinary.
and if you discover
you haven't passed—

remember:
the teacher
is still sitting
beside you,
patiently
writing
love
at the top
of the page.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 15th

“When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, ‘Do you want to be made well?’" John 5:6

we wait, don’t we,
beside those still waters
that never seem to move—
the hatred which has
no foundation in reality,
the cruelty we so easily excuse,
the polarization we put on
each day as if battle armor,
those mean-spirited words
we hurl into the world
under the guise of truth-telling.
we wait, don’t we—
because healing frightens us
far more than those grievances
which are part of our personality.
we wait, don’t we—
because answering the
simple question means
taking up our mat,
walking away from all
those places we hurt others.
well?
do we really want to?
Jesus is still waiting
for our answer.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 14th

“O Lord, open my lips,
   and my mouth will declare your praise.” Psalm 51:15

when we declaim
against the poverty
inflicted upon children,
when we refuse to let hunger
become an ordinary thing,
when we name the injustice
that steals tomorrow
from the youngest among us—
we praise you.

when we sing
songs of protest
against violence and death,
when our voices rise
above the noise of hatred,
when we dare to say
that every life is precious
and every person belongs—
we praise you.

when we cry out
that we will stand
beside the oppressed,
walk with the forgotten,
listen to those
whose voices have been silenced—
we praise you.

for praise is not only
what we whisper in worship,
it is what we do
when you open our lips
and we use our voices
to speak your love
into a world
still waiting to hear it.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 13th

“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

we might not find it
on our device or in the voice
we choose for our GPS—
it may be just beneath our feet:
those ordinary places love shows up.
we find it around tables, where
people scooch together to make
room for new folks.
we discover it on sidewalks,
in the chalk drawings by kids
and chats with lonely neighbors.
we hear it in the tough conversations
as truth speaks with gentleness.
we walk it wherever
mercy interrupts safe lives,
hope digs in its heels,
newcomers throw block parties,
and God is walking right beside us
especially when we don’t notice.
for the path we are looking for
becomes plain every time
we choose life for the other.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 12th

“But he had to go through Samaria.” John 4:4

there are
those streets with suspect names,
the wrong side of the tracks
even where there are no trains,
the neighborhoods full of the wrong kind.
then there are
those borders set by fear,
the lines in prejudice’s sands,
the old wounds we rename wisdom—
all those places we know
not to go through.
but too often,
grace refuses to take the safe way,
love persists in walking with
the people we step to the
other side to avoid.
so today, may we dare to step
into the Samarias we dread,
and, if we are lucky,
find that watering hole
where Jesus has been waiting
to meet us all along.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 11th

"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

soul weary—
worn out from truth
bartered for applause,
neighbors turning mean spirited,
fear masquerading as wisdom.
soul weary—
from every screen flashing crisis,
every notification full of outrage,
too many reasons to think
love has turned its back on us.
but listen, weary soul—
don’t surrender your heart
to despair’s coaches,
but hope in God.
not cheap hope which
would close our eyes to suffering
but dangerous hope which
dares us to open them wide.
hope in God—
whose mercy fills the streets
whose courage blooms in
everyday people,
whose voice calls us
to build bridges.
soul weary, yes—
but though the world
is wounded,
yet we will hope
because God is not done
with us yet.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 10th

"For there is no truth in their mouths;
   their hearts are destruction;
their throats are open graves;
   they flatter with their tongues." Psalm 5:9

they leave little tidbits,
tiny morsels which sound
so enticing, so enchanting
that we keep picking them up
nibbling on them as we follow
the trail of words which flow
from their hate-hardened hearts
thinking that at some point
they will begin to speak those
promises, that truth, that hope
for which we are searching,
until we come to the end
at the edge of the abyss
of yawning nothingness as
they whisper that the treasure
is waiting for us at the very bottom
where X marks the spot and
as we tumble in after each other
they take a shovel to cover us
with all those tiny morsels
of greed, fear, and bitterness
which we didn't have time to enjoy.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 9th

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

if we must,
may we not crow about
the walls we put around our hearts,
but of the cracks which allow grace

to tiptoe in,
of our hands which hope unclenches
so we can hold mercy’s bread.
for you are not found
on those stages with minions
holding up signs with your name,
but at those tables where outsiders
are offered the empty chairs.
your Spirit gathers our fragile fragments
like seeds carried on the wind,
whispering that weakness
is not the end of our story,
but the doorway through which
God's hope enters the world.
let us brag, if we must brag,
of Love which still kneels
to wash the feet of the forgotten,
of compassion outlasting contempt,
and the Risen One
who always makes our brokenness
a home for resurrection.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 8th

“Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common.” Acts 4:32

perhaps the key was not
those folks had enough, but
that they discovered that
nobody should go without.
we keep scorecards of
winners and losers,
but God counts neighbors.
we keep running back
to the world’s fear-the-outsider store
buying lumber, nails, and tools,
to put up higher walls,
while the Spirit keeps oiling
the gates in our hearts, so
they will easily swing open.
for every loaf shared,
every debt forgiven,
every weary soul welcomed
becomes another verse added
to the gospel still being written.
the Beloved Community is seen
not when every voice agrees
but when each hand opens,
not when we share the same opinions
but when we shoulder everyone’s burden,
until no one is forgotten.
that is resurrection’s quiet revolution—
what i call mine becomes ours
and what we once thought
would never be enough becomes,
by God’s radical grace,
more than enough for all.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 7th

His mother said to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you." John 2:5

for all who carry shame
for every exhausted parent
for every lonely person—
may we do whatever
grace tells us.
for those who live in fear’s shadows
for those who are on the margins
for all stuck in grief’s quicksand—
may we do whatever
hope tells us.
for those battered by violence
for polarized communities
for all called the enemy—
may we do whatever
peace tells us.
for everyone we forget
for all who are labeled failures
for any rejected teenager—
may we do whatever
love tells us.
for anyone whose best friend
is loneliness,
for those are told
they are not enough,
for those pushed aside
by us in our rush—
may we do whatever
inclusion tells us.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 6th

“I wait for the LORD, my soul waits,
    and in his word I hope;
my soul waits for the Lord
    more than those who watch for the morning,
    more than those who watch for the morning.” Psalm 130:5-6

i wait . . .
even on the mornings when
i wake to news which overwhelms,
when my device overflows with
more cruelty than compassion,
more hate than love—
for your grace still fills our world
if we will but notice.
i wait . . .
even as the day grows longer
and despair grows stronger
in the face of those who give
allegiance to lies and can
no longer distinguish between
what is right and what is wrong—
for your hope still fills our world
if we will but notice
i wait . . .
even as the shadows of weariness
merge with the dusk of fear
in these nights when even sleep
is afraid to close its eyes,
wondering what hobgoblins might
be hiding in the corners—
for your love still fills our world
if we will but notice.
i wait . . .
more than ever before—
for you still fill our world,
if we will but notice.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 5th

"'And now, friends, I know that you acted in ignorance, as did also your rulers.'" Acts 3:17

however we parrot the anger,
the bitterness, the demeaning
words which we hear from
those who claim to have our
best interests at heart,
wherever we blame a certain
party, or community, or people
for all the problems around us,
when we share posts and memes
which echo our world views but
which have no truth behind them,
have mercy on us,
Holy One of all people,
for we cannot claim that
we did not know any better,
while proudly boasting that
you are the One we follow,
whose words we believe,
whose life we seek to mirror,
whose love, grace, hope,
justice and peace are the pillars
which we fall off of all too often.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 4th

The Lord said to Gideon, ‘The troops with you are too many for me to give the Midianites into their hand. Israel would only take the credit away from me, saying, “My own hand has delivered me.” Judges 7:2

that bootstrap we think we used
to pull ourselves up to where we are
was the neighbor who hired us
to mow the lawn and babysit the kids,
was the teacher who let us
retake that test we needed to pass,
was the supervisor who took a chance
on the untrained person sitting across
the desk in a botched job interview.
that self-made person we see
in the mirror every day and brag about
came about through the sacrifices
of the grandmother who worked in factories,
the uncle who drove a tractor,
that older sister who tutored us in math,
the parents who gave up their own dreams.
that success we enjoy which
so many others applaud and envy
is because of those who stayed
in the background silently nudging us
even though we left them behind
without a simple word of thanks.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 3rd

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” John 1:5

the narcissists really believe the lies
they tell so often, that the shadowy
substance of fear, of doubt, of worry
is exactly what people are longing
to have fill their lives.
the power brokers of cruelty and hate
think that all they have to do
is slowly turn the dial on love
dimmer and dimmer until
it disappears completely from
our lives and no one will care.
but then,
your little dot of grace
appears just at the edge
of the horizon, slowly
glowing brighter and brighter,
slowly growing closer and closer
as you wrap us in your
heart and we are held in your
hope forever.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 2nd

“Each of you must give as you have made up your mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.” 2nd Corinthians 9:7

i remember watching my mom
sit at the kitchen table
on Saturday night, going through
the bills, the grocery ads, the
letter from school about books
needed for the coming year,
looking at the pile of jeans
she would find a way to patch
once again to make them presentable,
writing out menus for the week
which would make the food last.
and then,
she would count out
coins for each of us to have
the next day for Sunday School,
and put some paper currency
into the envelope with your name
written on it, and place it
safely inside her Bible.
then with a gentle smile,
she would go to bed and sleep
the deep rest of one who
had discovered the truth
that one’s heart is never
emptied by giving.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 1st

"Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them." Matthew 28:16

in the alleys and streets,
cleaning up the mess tossed
aside by midnight revelers.
on the playgrounds helping
the children of immigrants
learn the ins and outs
of the games their neighbors
have played for years.
walking through the hallways
of the retirement communities
checking to make sure each
resident is doing well in times
of extreme heat or winter's blast.
on the march down to concrete
palaces where the politicians
make decisions which affect
the people they never notice
while being driven to power,
we realize we are on the mountains
where you have called us to serve.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 31st

"O LORD, God of my salvation,
  when, at night, I cry out in your presence,
let my prayer come before you;
  incline your ear to my cry.” Psalm 88:1-2

it is when dusk dispels
the last bits of sun that
those words of contempt,
of ignorance, even of hate
begin to play like an
endless loop in our hearts.
it is when the shadows
of grief once more stretch
themselves across our souls
like an afghan that our granny
made for us when we were young.
it is when night slams
the doors of life against
grace and hope which want
to come and have a
slumber party with us—
those are the moments
when you drop everything
to run and gather us
in your lap, to listen
for as long as we need,
on however many nights
like these we endure.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 30th

   "I heard a voice I had not known:
'I relieved your shoulder of the burden;
   your hands were freed from the basket.
In distress you called, and I rescued you;
   I answered you in the secret place of thunder;
I tested you at the waters of Meribah'" Psalm 81:6-7

the expectations of others,
baskets heavy with worry,
the struggle of believing
we must go alone—
so many yokes on our shoulders.
but the One who loosened Pharoah’s grip
still puts salve on wrists rubbed raw
by fear and hearts scabbed by grief,
and gently whispers, ‘put them down.’
not so we will feel ashamed
for crying out like a frightened child
but so we might remember that
every honest prayer echoes
in the corridors of grace
for in the rattling windows of storms
and in dawn’s early hush,
God responds—
not by pulling us out but by
walking beside us in the wilderness,
until our shoulders know the touch of freedom.
so start today—
take one deep breath,
set down one burden,
sing one song,
trust the One who has
always been enough,
then rinse and repeat
tomorrow.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 29th

“While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them.” Acts 1:10

we’re good at standing—
in line for the latest tech,
tickets to the newest epic,
or for a cold beer at the game.
but standing up to cruelty,
confronting politicians about
their silent complicity to hate,
or standing in front of the vulnerable
the knuckleheads mock?
you will find us in our easy chairs.
we are so good at gazing—
at our devices for hours,
looking past those in need,
turning the elderly invisible
but noticing the forgotten,
paying attention to the stranger
asking for just a bit of kindness,
seeing creation crumbling?
we are resting our eyes.
we are so ready to get
to those pearly gates and claim
our mansions and our harps,
we never notice the hell
which poverty, apathy, fear,
loneliness, grief, and suffering
have established for those around us.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 28th

“For your obedience is known to all; therefore, I rejoice over you, but I want you to be wise in what is good and guileless in what is evil.” Romans 16:19

they tutor us in outrage,
they make us apprentices of fear,
those loud, angry voices insisting
that wickedness deserves all our attention—
yet, the good news never claims
we become fluent in evil but
invites us to learn the language of grace,
to choose gentleness over cruelty,
hope instead of fear,
peace before enmity.
so may we become adept
at love’s stubborn vocabulary,
those who know the names of mercy,
who glimpse resurrection blooming
in the cracked dirt of another day.
for in a world with
far too many prophets of despair,
may we be those
whose wisdom is shaped by goodness,
whose hearts remain untrained in hate,
and whose lives become
the quiet, persistent proof
that love has the final word.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 27th

"So when Pilate saw that he could do nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took some water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, 'I am innocent of this man's blood; see to it yourselves.'" Matthew 27:24

when they bring us in
and seat us in the
interrogation room, and
begin to question us
why we allow children
to go hungry each night
while our garbage bins
reek of thrown out food,
why we refuse to demand
those who want to open
up homeless shelters in winter
be given the same incentives
as the developers building
million-dollar gated communities,
or why we simply choose
to remain silent instead
of confronting bullies, we
simply wring our hands
under the table protesting
our innocence, while
you weep behind the
one-way window into our
souls.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman