June 5th

“Never be rash with your mouth, nor let your heart be quick to utter a word before God, for God is in heaven, and you upon earth; therefore let your words be few.” Ecclesiastes 5:2

carrying baskets so full of words
their handles creak, we come with
paragraphs of piety, promises on
the verge of breaking, excuses,
and prayers we have redacted—
yet in the silence which greets us
our syllables flitter away like butterflies.
you have no need for our noise,
you won’t be turned by tumbling words,
for you live in those still places
between one heartbeat and the next.
so, show us how to release
our tight grasp of flowery words,
model for us the holy art of listening,
so that as words become fewer
wonder will become greater,
and prayers are not performances
but those small candles of trust
we set gently before you.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 4th

“Moreover I saw under the sun that in the place of justice, wickedness was there, and in the place of righteousness, wickedness was there as well.” Ecclesiastes 3:16

now, more than ever
justice goes to those
with the deepest pockets
which leaves out those
with holes in theirs.
now, more than ever
people seem willing to take
all the grace, hope, compassion
which belongs to them and melt
these gifts down to make
golden statues of the wicked
that they can worship.
so maybe
this should be the verse
held up at sporting events,
to remind us of where we are
and who we are called to be.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 3rd

“yet we know that a person is justified not by the works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ. And we have come to believe in Christ Jesus, so that we might be justified by faith in Christ, and not by doing the works of the law, because no one will be justified by the works of the law.” Galatians 2:16

we have so much trouble
believing that we are made
right with God if it is not
we who are making all
the effort, doing all the
heavy lifting.
yet
it might be even simpler
than we think . . .
it might have more
to do with Jesus’ faith
in us that
we can change
we can be more loving,
we can seek justice
for the forgotten,
simply by trusting
in that faith.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 2nd

“So I hated life, because what is done under the sun was grievous to me; for all is vanity and a chasing after wind.” Ecclesiastes 2:17

tired—
tired of counting
of achieving
of proving
of gathering life’s wind
into our closed hands.
and we carry all we
have chased here
beneath the sun and
these weary days feel like
sand slipping through our fingers.
and that Old Preacher reminds us
that striving will not save us
that success cannot hold us
that all our work leaves us hollow.
yet, here in this truth which aches
is where God meets us--
not in bronze or stone statues
but in the breath which enlivens us,
not in our portfolios and accounts,
but in the soft embrace of mercy.
and when it seems everything
we are told is of value dissipates
Love still abides—
constant as the rising sun
gentle as our loved ones’ breath,
waiting for us to relax
and simply welcome
such grace.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 1st

“Then I saw that wisdom excels folly as light excels darkness.” Ecclesiastes 2:13

as dusk gathers, we take the lamp
fueled by wisdom.
despite its wavering flame
casting soft light upon our path,
it cannot push back the night,
it cannot make a deal with time
or shut our hearts against grief.
still, it burns—
which might be enough
to show the way under us,
the companion in the shadows,
mercy there where the road bends.
if we are wise,
we know we cannot keep
night from catching us,
but we can learn to walk,
eyes open and hopeful,
hands unclenched in trust,
souls searching for wonder,
as we journey through the shadows.
and the One who named
both night and day,
waits for us in each—
in the shining awareness of knowing
as well as in that
tender mystery of all
we cannot understand

yet

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Trinity Sunday

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit ,” Matthew 28:19

today
may we realize you
are not a puzzle to solve,
but that relationship always
reaching out to embrace us.
you shaped galaxies with a lullaby
and still kneel in the muck
of our lives, planting hope
you walked on dusty roads to death
and still sit with us at gravesides,
graduations, and diner booths.
you moved upon waters breathing life
and still dance through locked doors
three voices, harmonizing as one,
three personas, one grace to hold us.
and the mystery we never need to solve—
before we ever needed
to search for you,
you were already swaddling us
in love creating us,
in love redeeming us,
in love breathing through us
now and forever.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Eve of Trinity Sunday

“Lord, you have been our dwelling place
in all generations.” Psalm 90:1

long before wiggly kids sit on floors
and ‘holy, holy’ rises to the sky,
long before preachers stammer
to unravel your tangled Mystery
and bystanders listen with glazed ears—
you are here.
home to stardust and soft breaths
abode for all who don’t know we are lost,
open door for every moment of grief and joy,
you sheltered our ancestors in grace,
held our grief through empty nights,
listened to every unformed prayer.
tonight we rest on those clues
which are scattered around us—
love which will not step aside
when hate strolls into life,
love which walks with all
who wander grief’s shadows,
love which breathes through us
to bring justice to the forgotten.
and as evening draws near,
we come home again—
not to roofs or walls or floors,
but to you.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman 

May 30th

"Let them curse, but you will bless." Psalm 109:28a

they store up their
grudges to pile them
onto my weary soul,
but you fill me with grace
so it might overflow
into the lives who need it.
they learn as many
new profanities as they
can, especially in
other languages, but
you teach me the language
of love, so each may hear it
without needing an interpreter.
they mock us, seeing others
as nothing but trash
tossed out of a car, but we
are the heirlooms of hope,
justice, and welcome
you would share with
others.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 29th

“Where can I go from your spirit?
   Or where can I flee from your presence? Psalm 139:7

in that dimly lit
pub where we hope
no one knows our name,
you hand us a pint, and
wiping down the bar,
you stand, in the silence,
just in case . . .
we sit on the bench
in the shadows of the trees
at the cemetery, so you pause
and lean on the rake, gazing
with us at our love’s marker,
just in case . . .
as we trudge down the
side of death’s dusty road,
you pull up beside us,
open the door,
and offer us a ride,
just in case . . .
whenever,
wherever,
however
we are convinced that
we can make it on our own,
you show up
just in case . . .

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 28th

“Thorns and snares are in the way of the perverse;
   the cautious will keep far from them.” Proverbs 22:5

words sharpened by snark,
headlines which never end,
promises which lose their glitter
leaving splinters in our souls,
how crowded are the avenues
of our lives, O God—
these are the thorns
we feel in our impatience.
and yet, you show us
other paths to follow—
walking just a bit slower,
taking time to listen (deeply),
taking on compassion
as our guide on this pilgrimage
while anger tries to shove us off
so keep a watch over us,
Gentle God,
opening our hearts to kindness,
making us wise enough
to recognize every pitfall,
and gracious enough to pick
the paths which lead toward
love,
justice,
hope,
peace,
you.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @ Thom-Shuman

May 27th

“The beginning of strife is like letting out water; so stop before the quarrel breaks out.” Proverbs 17:14

it is just an annoying drip
at first, not falling that often
or so loud that we can’t sleep—
but then
the off-the-cuff thought a friend
tossed in our direction,
that rudeness of a stranger
while we were waiting in line
(rather patiently, i thought),
a cold stare the lover gave
when we had hoped for passion
and suddenly
the drips start falling faster,
the noise slowly slides like
a trombone into a din,
our hearts begin to beat faster,
our blood pressure rises,
our anger is fueled by hurt
and
a friendship
a community
a love
is swept away simply
because we refused
to turn off the drip
when it first plopped
into our hearts.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @ Thom-Shuman

My 26th

“Better is a dinner of vegetables where love is than a fatted ox and hatred with it.” Proverbs 15:17

me?
i would rather share
a bowl of soup around
a scarred kitchen table
where stories and laughter
are louder than the kettle’s whistle
than sit at the head table
of a gold-trimmed ballroom
where cruelty is sharper than any knife.
because love isn’t plated on plenty
but in torn bread shared,
in the quiet ‘how are you, really?'
in the hand resting on the grief
of the silent person next to them.
which is why Wisdom advises us
to find the table where grace still is served,
to enjoy that simple meal crafted from need,
to gather with those whose kindness
outshines their imperfections,
and where mercy, inclusion, love
is more than enough
to make even the smallest portion
a banquet for those starving
for community.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @ Thom-Shuman

May 25th

“The LORD does not let the righteous go hungry, but he thwarts the craving of the wicked.” Proverbs 10:3

in this time of empty shelves
and overfull portfolios,
of news which feeds on hunger
and tables reserved by fear,
may it be enough
that you move among us
like food passed hand to hand.
you will not forget all who rise
tucking hope into weary souls,
who weave together meals and prayers
and wrap others with this faith.
you know that hunger
which lies below physical hunger—
for hope, for grace, for someone
to notice or listen or just be.
as you discomfort all
who consume without seeing,
gather without sharing,
confuse possessions for peace,
may we learn your economy of grace—
opening our hands to outsiders,
trusting that enough is holy,
believing that your abundance
was never meant only for our tables.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @ Thom-Shuman

Day of Pentecost

“you make the winds your messengers,
fire and flame your ministers.” Psalm 104:4

Spirit of the Living One—
you slip through the cracks
of our locked rooms,
not with thunder first,
but with the soft sigh
of God breathing dust into dancing.
you make your messengers winds,
the psalmist whispers;
and we know now
those winds carry names,
carry stories,
carry fragile hearts into streets
they never imagined walking.
today, fire does not consume—
it illumines.
tongues become bridges.
silence learns to sing.
and somewhere,
amid the chaos of newsfeeds, sirens,
and weary prayers folded at midnight,
your Spirit still moves over creation
like a mother smoothing
blankets over restless children.
so breathe on us again,
until our fear becomes welcome,
our bitterness becomes bread,
and our lives become small Pentecosts
set loose into the world.

Eve of Pentecost

the Spirit is my comforter;
i shall not be afraid.
she sings lullabies
as i try to go to sleep;
she puts a glass of water
on the table in case i get thirsty;
her warm breath soothes me.
she looks under the bed
and in the closet corners
so i know i am safe each night.
as i journey towards the
end of time, she is my advocate
reminding death whose i am.
she refuses to leave me alone,
her flames dancing on my heart
to melt the fears chilling my soul.
she spends all day getting
my favorite dish ready for me,
while those who never liked me,
watch in envy.
she teaches me how to braid my hair,
as we sit drinking hot chocolate
watching the sun go down.
she races ahead of me
and all my friends,
throwing open all the
windows and doors
of our new home, so we
know how welcome we are.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 23rd

"for she said to herself, 'If I only touch his cloak, I will be made well.'" Matthew 9:21

if we only touch
your heart, we might
become more loving.
if we only touch
your spirit, we might
become more inclusive.
if we only touch
your grace, we might
become more forgiving.
if we only touch
your justice, we might
be more passionate for
all the forgotten.
if we only touch
your hope, we might
heal the brokenness
consuming our world.
if we only touch
your life, ours might be different.

if only . . .

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 22nd

"Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." Ephesians 5:1-2

remember—
Jesus didn’t stand off
to the side, watching our
failures fall like snowflakes.
he stepped into our misery,
our word sharpened by fear,
our weary nights of pulling
the covers over our heads.
and with scarred hands,
he gathered us like branches
scattered after winter gusts.
so perhaps that holiness we seek
is not found by grasping, but
leaving behind that vocabulary,
walking barefoot in mercy’s fields,
becoming bouquets of grace for all
whose hands are so empty.
and as we do, God smiles,
for we are learning love
birds learn to the sky,
by following the One
who first showed the way.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 21st

"Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander, together with all malice," Ephesians 4:31

bitterness?
it is that rough pebble
we idly pick up on a walk
putting it into our pocket
where it keeps turning over,
like an old grudge we keep polishing
until it shines brighter than forgiveness.
anger?
it is the vocabulary book
published daily by the world
so we can become wordsmiths
in snark on glowing screens,
judgments hurled to protect
our hearts from listening to hope
and still, Christ tiptoes in—
not trying to drown out noise
but kneeling in the dust of grief
to cradle us in scarred hands.
‘put these away,’ he cautions,
as we might gather shards
of a broken glass, so a child
would step in them in the dark
stick wrath out with the bins,
let malice drift away like dandelion puffs,
let go of what calluses your soul.
for every cruel word we abandon
opens up space for mercy to breathe
and every act of grace
becomes an act of resistance
in this wrangled world.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 20th

“Suddenly they shouted, ‘What have you to do with us, Son of God? Have you come here to torment us before the time?’" Matthew 8:29

it is comfortable here
in the shadows where
we chain our assumptions
and name them as wisdom,
until you come along,
not to toss us into those tombs
carved from bitterness and noise,
but to ask why we are
so eager to settle for
being haunted, not healed.
and when we lash out,
‘what do you want us to do?’
you edge a bit closer—
through the worries and tears,
through these exhausting times
simply to touch what
we want no one else to see,
to unname the horde of demons
who consider us part of their clan,
to walk with us from
the rubble of our lives
into the enchantment
of being human once again.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 19th

"And they went and woke him up, saying, 'Lord, save us! We are perishing!'" Matthew 8:25

they know our names
all too well in these times—
those winds which whisper
despair down hospital corridors,
those storms which blow
hate across borders of nations,
those chill breezes which sit
by empty beds and emptier tables.
and still, we grasp the sides
of our frail coracles,
woven from strips of fear,
patched with words of outrage,
laden with cargos of grief.
and those frightening words
screamed by disciples ages ago,
are now echoed by weary teachers,
parents standing by gravesides,
the forgotten, the refugees, the lonely
and somewhere, from out of the chaos—
not with anger at our fear
but with hands callused by mercy,
you are there,
touching first the storm within us,
then speaking the unexpected grace
we forget too easily,
‘peace,’
and we dare rest in
the stillness of your presence.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 18th

"If it had not been the LORD who was on our side" Psalm 124:1

when the waters of chaos
come swirling around us,
we could have just become
names carried away like debris,
but you climbed into your boat,
rowing out to gather us up.
for it is not always in the lightning
nor in the easy answers we devise,
but it is your steady hand
holding our trembling hearts
as we seek to live
in these rollercoaster moments—
your breath cradling our tears,
your heart refusing to learn
the vocabulary of giving up.
into the din of the world,
you gently tip toe—
in that silence after anger,
in the welcome of strangers,
in that courage which shows up
when we thought fear
was our only companion
which is why we whisper praise
to our Shelter in every storm,
our Pilot of our fragile lives,
the Teacher of our souls.

 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 17th

"Happy are those
who do not follow the advice of the wicked
or take the path that sinners tread
or sit in the seat of scoffers,
but their delight is in the law of the Lord,
and on his law they meditate day and night." Psalm 1:1-2

how blessed we are
when we refuse
social media invitations
to sit at the table of outrage or
invest in cryptocontempt.
for when we step away from
the oligarchs of mockery or
when we will not learn the new
language of bitterness,
we lean towards compassion
as sunflowers to morning light.
we pull the duvet of wisdom
over us before dawn, while grace
rewrites the algorithms of hate
we let our minds drift down
the quiet rivers of God peace,
and offer shade for the fatigued,
pass out fruit for the hungry,
water the deep roots of hope
for a world desperate
to survive the storms
raging around them.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 16th

"They will still bear fruit in old age,
   they will stay fresh and green," Psalm 92:14 (NIV)

they are there in the shadows,
silent as a beam of sun
on a kitchen table in winter
their hands paper thin from
decades of laundry, making menus,
pulling on boots for children
who now do the same for theirs.
no one comes over for a selfie,
no paparazzi stalk them,
they just are there, near
the edges of our days—
and yet, like late roses
refusing the touch of frost,
love still fills their souls.
they remember birthdays,
they tuck prayers into
the hearts of visiting family,
they are the ones who knit
mercy into booties for strangers,
they are remember to water
the thirsty seeds of grace.
and God smiles at these
forgotten-by-the-world saint,
still fresh and green in holy ways,
still bearing the Spirit’s fruits,
long after the world thinks
they have withered on the vine.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 15th

"For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God – “Ephesians 2:8

we tug on your sleeve—
prayers written on napkins,
worryscrolling on our screens,
hearts determining our value
by chore jars emptied, applause,
and exhaustion’s spread sheets.
and like a cat gently making biscuits,
and God—
like rain gently curling
down the kitchen window,
whispers:
i never charge for sunsets,
when it comes to grace i
don’t look at your resume,
i take hesitant questions over
polished answers every time,
and bumping over life’s potholes
or stepping in misery’s mud
is what faith looks like, a gift
placed in hands sometimes
too weary to carry it.
so may we remember that
when the world expects us
to prove that we belong,
let us simply breathe,
for mercy found us first.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 14th (Ascension)

"As I watched," Daniel 7:9a

i wondered where God was
and then i noticed the folks
who were mowing the lawn,
cleaning the gutters, and
painting the house of the
struggling retired couple, and
i knew.
i went down the street
hoping i might bump into Jesus
and walked past the homeless
vet feeding his dog before he ate,
slipped past the kids making a game
out of picking up the litter on the grass,
and stopped dead in my tracks.
i watched the mist moving slowly
across the lake in the morning,
heard the whispers of the couple
at the next table planning a surprise
party for their mail carrier, and felt
the gentle breeze on my face
and realized the Spirit was tagging along.
so, think how much
i would have missed if
i spent all my time sky gazing,
wondering why you haven’t
returned.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 13th

"Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ." Ephesians 1:2

Grace isn’t interrupting
our favorite shows these days
or catching our devices’ attention.
instead
it is the weary checkout person
helping the widow count out coins,
it is the nurse putting another blanket
on the patient before they ask,
it is the child who chooses
the classmate who is always forgotten
to be their partner at recess
it is not just a word from
another century or place—
it still breathes in our chaos,
the gentle presence of that
Someone who walks beside us
through fear stacked like bricks
across the days of our lives,
the One leaning close to our weariness
whispering mercy not judgment,
swaddling us with tenderness
when we can barely survive,
finding those cracks where
the seeds of peace may be planted
in the rubble
of an ever-breaking world.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 12th

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

it was faith who
opened their arms
to let me sob my heart out
when my soulmate died.
it is faith who sits

next to me, singing

soft lullabies until i drift

off to sleep each night.

it was faith which 

held my hand when the

echoes of angry voices 

with angrier words turned

my deep sleep into nightmares.

it is faith who whispers
in my soul of how valued
i am when everyone else
mocks and rejects me.

it was faith who came

storming into my room

yelling 'no more fears

jumping on the bed!'

it is faith who has been
my most trusted counselor,
my best friend,
my cherished companion,
even when i thought
i was walking alone.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 11th

"Their idols are silver and gold,
   the work of human hands.
They have mouths, but do not speak;
   eyes, but do not see.
They have ears, but do not hear;
   noses, but do not smell.
They have hands, but do not feel;
   feet, but do not walk;
they make no sound in their throats.
   Those who make them are like them;
so are all who trust in them." Psalm 115:4-8

we have created our idols
in the images lodged in our hearts:
the angry whose words
nourish the bitterness
flowing from our lips,
the ones who claim
to see all our suffering
but are looking only
at themselves in a mirror.
those seekers of our adulation
who act as if they listen
to the brokenness within us,
but only hear the songs
of the sycophants around them.
the politicians who clap
as if applauding us but
would push us away
given every chance,
the singers whose lyrics
claim they walk in our shoes,
but drive off in limos
and climb into private jets
when the concert ended.

© Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 10th

"It is he who remembered us in our low estate,
    for his steadfast love endures forever;" Psalm 136:23

when everyone walks right
past us because they have
forgotten not just our names
but who we are, you stop
open your arms and shout,
'i know you!"
when we have fallen
about as far as possible
without hitting bedrock,
others stand at the edge
shaking their heads and
muttering to one another,
and you hand them a rope
and ask them to hold tight
as you rappel down to bring us up.
when we are not at work
or in school or sick at home
and gossip begins
to sharpen tongues
to flay our character open,
you stick up for us
every time.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 9th

'"Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it.'" Matthew 7:13

polished promises crowd walkways
seductions smooth bumpy roads,
the easy way is marketed
as the redemption millions need,
and flickering screens immerse
us in pools of distraction.
but
there is that quieter path—
as narrow as forgiveness,
as steep as truth telling,
the one too often ignored
under the din of fear,
outrage, narcissism, lust.
Jesus stands at that gate
rusted by so little use,
because the sign invites
us to leave so much behind—
that pride which wears us down,
the certainty which aches our shoulders,
that self which excludes others.
for just past the brambles
of the world, a narrow path
opens into the wide grace of God,
where outsiders become friends,
where enemies have our backs
and where weary souls
find that the hardest roads
are the surest way to find
our way home.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 8th

"'Do not judge, so that you may not be judged.'" Matthew 7:1

we flick judgments with our thumbs,
measure outsiders based on rumors,
angry voices, fragments of fear—
for we want quick and easy judgements
and Jesus reminds us to sit
with our own fractured selves
before we accuse another’s brokenness,
to remember that every soul
carries bruises no one can see,
hearts are full of silent grief,
voices choke on unfinished stories
for while judgment has become
our go-to defensive position,
mercy asks more of us—
to listen before speaking,
to walk humbly, not harshly,
to unclench our fist around certainty
so maybe the holiest thing
we can do on any day, for every person
is to simply give space
space for transformation
space for misunderstanding
space to allow grace
to slowly work in each person,
especially us.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 7th

“'When an alien resides with you in your land, you shall not oppress the alien. The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the native-born among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.'" Leviticus 19:33-34

holes in their shoes or
soaked from leaky boats,
with stories tucked in their souls
like faded love letters,
strangers stand at our borders
while the God of dusty roads
and rooms borrowed from friends
reminds us that
once we were the folks
carried by grace through that
wilderness we would not choose.
even now, as we
put up barriers of fear,
dismiss compassion as weakness,
pretend we do not see
our ancestors’ faces staring
back at us across borders,
your voice echoes from that
dusty book we misuse too often
to remind us to love.
not tolerate, nor legislate,
and certainly, not fear—
but share bread at midnight,
offer shelter from the storm,
open the door to every person
who knocks in hope, for
they may just be bearers
of those pieces of our souls
we left behind
on our journey to privilege.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 6th

“Do not turn to idols or make cast images for yourselves: I am the LORD your God.” Leviticus 19:4

no need for gold, silver, marble, wood—
our idols are carved from pixels,
looping reels popping up endlessly,
borrowed faces gleaming
all on the altar of being noticed.
we scroll for redemption as
our thumbs offer restless prayers
through strangers dancing in
that wilderness of wanting more.
we were warned about this,
long before Claud, AI, et al,
yet every morning we worship
at those tiny, bright temples
cupped eagerly in weary hands.
and somewhere,
not trending, not trolling,
not offering clickbait or ads.
not seeking more sponsors
or caring about likes and shares—
God waits,
speaking so softly we must
so softly we must
shut down our devices
to hear the Voice we need.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 5th

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

bands play polished mercies,
leaders recast grief as slogans,
endless blessings nobody can touch
scroll down our screens,
and even prayer seems eager
for applause, yet you,
God of 2:00 a.m. phone calls
and kitchens serving the homeless
while the privileged sleep,
you listen to every weary breath
not well-rehearsed tongues,
you pay no attention to holy words
trying to build stairways to heaven.
you hear the mother who can
only whisper ‘help me.’
you hear the widower holding
grief’s silence like a chipped mug.
you hear children of war asking
the same fearful questions.
so, perhaps that is our lesson—
to stop filling the air with
emptiness we rehearse
until our speech is perfect
but
to let truth run barefoot,
to know that hope needs
hands, not just a pat on the back,
that love will always be heard
even if all we can do
is whisper it in our souls.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom M. Shuman

May 4th

“But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.” 1st Thessalonians 4:13

in that shadowy room of absence
we sit, our hands wrapped around
those memories which ache with warmth,
but we do not sit alone.
our tears are caught in the palms
of the One who stands beside graves
and calls love to return to the light.
for even now,
crushed by sorrow’s burden,
hope tiptoes quietly—
like dawn which refuses
the caress of the longest night.
for the ones who have crossed
to the other side of grace
are not forgotten by God,
and however loud grief echoes
in our empty souls,
it does not have the last word.
because love always remembers,
mercy keeps watch,
and the Shepherd walks gently,
resurrection cupped in scarred hands
like a candle lighting the way
through every shadowed valley.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom M. Shuman

May 3rd

"Let everything that breathes praise the Lord! Praise the Lord!" Psalm 150:6

it doesn’t require a praise band,
just some kids singing made up
songs at bath time.
we don’t need someone
with a degree in music,
just those birds who awaken us,
whether we want them to or not,
early in the morning.
it doesn’t have to be
practiced over and over again
until the notes are perfect,
just that lullaby offered
by soft breezes in the trees
on a spring evening.
we don’t need instruments
that are all in tune and played
by folks who have been doing
so for as long as they can remember,
it can be a symphony of
pots and pans and lids,
of empty boxes and spatulas,
of cats meowing and dogs howling—
for everything, and everyone,
can praise God, especially
without any inhibitions!

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 2nd

 "'You have heard that it was said, "An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth" But I say to you,'" Matthew 5:38-39a

perhaps it is the
eye which sees
the other as enemy
which we need to
pluck out,
maybe it is the
tooth we would use
to bite another with
our hate which we
need to extract,
might it be the hand
we easily use to push
away those who only
want justice from us
which we need to lose.
indeed, we would do well
to listen to your words
rather than the taunts,
the boasts, the cruelty
of all around us.
what say you, Jesus?

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

May 1st

"But God will ransom my soul from the power of Sheol, for he will receive me." Psalm 49:15

we will sit at the table,
sharing tea together,
telling of what has
been going on in our lives,
laughing at old jokes,
fighting over the very
last sandwich, and sharing
one final scone slathered
with cream and jam.
then brushing off
the crumbs and leaving
an extra-large tip
for all the staff, we
will walk outside, standing
side by side in the light mist,
until the bus pulls up
and i board, beginning
that trip through the
falling shadows on that
road which ends at
the other side of grace,
as i turn to wave goodbye
to death.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 30th

"Father of orphans and protector of widows
   is God in his holy habitation." Psalm 68:5

you open the shelter door
for the battered women
and their kids, so they find
safe lodgings and hope,
you gather the little girls
who the rigidly religious
believe have no right
to an education, and hand
them books from your library,
you use the app on your phone
to order rides for all the adolescents
who found a suitcase on the
front porch and the locks changed
so they can come and stay
at your place for as long
as they might need.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 29th

"Now Moses used to take the tent and pitch it outside the camp, far off from the camp; he called it the tent of meeting . . . Thus the LORD used to speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend." Exodus 33:7, 11a

like those blankets donated
to the local animal shelter
because we grew too old,
too grown up to toss them
over chairs and furniture
to create indoor tents,
it is in those faded pictures
in our minds that we remember
you as that friend who laughed
at our silliness and listened intently
to the deep longings of our hearts
which we could only share with you.
yet, in that gentle silence
in a restaurant booth with
that old friend who doesn’t
expect every moment
to be filled with sound,
or in the stillness of a cemetery
where a widow goes every afternoon
to tell her lifelong love
about the trivialities of her day
so she doesn’t have to think
about that grief which shadows
her in every moment,
we meet you face to face,
old friend.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 28th

"'You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid.'" Matthew 5:14

no need to look for you
where the black tie and
fancy gown crowd gathers—
you are in the shadowed alleys
where the forgotten huddle
longing for that tiny beam
of grace you bring with you.
it is not in the hallways of power
under the bright lights of media
where you wander—
but in those straits of life
where hope is blockaded
by the privileged of the world.
in every shadow of worry,
under every rock which we use
to try to hide ourselves,
in the lengthy evening of dread
creeping across the lawns
of every soul in every place,
you try to create that
Beloved Community of hope,
of grace, of inclusion, of justice,
praying we might bring
our lights to merge with yours.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 27th

"And the LORD changed his mind about the disaster that he planned to bring on his people." Exodus 32:14

we gather up the dry branches
of our fears to use as kindling
for fires we love so much
we give them names, as we
idolize those golden things
others create in hopes we will trust.
anger trembles at the very edge
of our hearts, longing to spill over—
yet forgiveness lingers longer.
in these days, when so many
are quick to harden their souls,
you choose, once more,
to turn—
not away
but toward us.
so,
teach us this holy pause
which keeps the fist unclenched,
which softens harsh words,
and opens tomorrow
to possibilities
beyond our closed minds.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 26th

"Praise the LORD, all you nations!
    Extol him, all you peoples!
For great is his steadfast love toward us,
    and the faithfulness of the LORD endures forever.
Praise the LORD!” Psalm 117

in
the dandelions
which delight the bees
each spring (and annoy
lawn care purists).
in
the little kids
who could spend hours
dancing in water sprinklers
(and the parents who
tolerate wet clothes
scattered all over the house).
in
the mama birds
who keep an eye out
for dangers
(and the older folks
watching from their
retirement, remembering
doing the same thing).
in
the barren trees
we thought would need
to be cut down
(and the tree trimmers
who turn off their chainsaws
when they spot new growth
we failed to see).

your creation endures forever!

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 25th

“But now you must get rid of all such things - anger, wrath, malice, slander, and abusive language from your mouth.” Colossians 3:8

and here it is,
the loophole we need.
for if it is typing on a
keyboard, or tapping with
our thumbs,
if it is combining emojis,
finding just the right GIF,
if it is using a meme maker
(oh, better yet, posting one from
a person far more skilled),
or simply sharing a screed,
a whine, a ripping a new one
which popped up in our feed—
we can be as cruel, mean,
hateful, demeaning as
all those folks we condemn
for doing the same thing.
after all,
none of this is coming
from our mouths, is it!

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 24th

“He disarmed the rulers and authorities and made a public example of them, triumphing over them in it.” Colossians 2:15

memes meant to offend,
standing before podiums
dressed in certainty, words
polished to fear’s perfections,
our self-proclaimed saviors
strut across our devices, hoping
to tighten a grip on every fearful heart.
yet, quiet as a breeze, persistent as dawn
the cross stands, its laughter
unthreading every imperial lie.
for what tries to crush
is turned inside out,
what is meant to shame
is stripped bare in resurrection life,
for peace disarms violence,
mercy mocks every display of power.
in the slow uprising of hope,
stubbornly weaving through
our streets, our hopes, our hearts,
the victory of love is carried
throughout the world’s brokenness,
grace scattered like confetti
behind the Risen One.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 23rd

"You shall not make for yourself an idol, whether in the form of anything that is in heaven above, or that is on the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth." Exodus 20:4

how blessed we are,
God,
that we no longer worship
those idols made of stone,
of wood, of various metals
now seen as artifacts in
museums with little cards
implying how foolish those
ancestors of ours were.
which gives us more
energy and passion and
focus on our devices we
keep in our pockets and
mounted in our cars
so that we are not alone,
who are next to us
as we sleep to keep
watch over us and
to awaken us for any
and every meaningless
text, meme, reel from
our new pantheon of gods -
InstaFaceXSnapTokTube
residing high on Mount Cyber.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 22nd

"He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation;" Colossians 1:15

and now,
we see your face
in the wrinkled skin
of grandparents walking
hand in hand each evening
and in the smiles of immigrant
children moving into a new home.

now,
we feel your hands
in the touch of a nurse
comforting a cancer patient
and in the pat on the back
of a teacher encouraging
a struggling student.

now,
we hear your feet
in those who march
for justice in broken communities,
in those who take part
in relays for life,
in those who walk
to a neighbor's house
to bring a casserole of hope.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 21st

 "The people all answered as one: 'Everything that the LORD has spoken we will do.'" Exodus 19:8

yes, friends,
we do an admirable job
of doing ‘everything,’
don’t we—
except
for those bits about
loving our enemies
and not seeking revenge;
or the prophetic hopes
we might be the justice
pouring through communities
like rampaging rivers;
as well as those 'blessed are'
little phrases that Jesus
tossed about so freely.
we shouldn’t pretend
that Jesus had absolutely
nothing to say about finances.
And no matter how hard the
Influencers try to convince us,
we still have obligations to
welcome the outsiders,
keep a light burning for prodigals,
as well as learning from
those we look down
our noses at.

© © 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 20th

“We have escaped like a bird
   from the snare of the fowler;
the snare is broken
   and we have escaped.” Psalm 124:7

they would place us
in cages with locks,
where we can only flap
our wings, the bars made
out of the fears confining them,
but you come along
and pick the lock
gently reaching in to
cradle us in your hands
as you whisper love
as you breathe peace
as you stroke us with fingers
made soft from the balm of hope
and then
you toss us up
in the air, so
we can spread our wings
and fly in the freedom
of resurrection grace.

© Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 19th

“Beloved, I am writing you no new commandment, but an old commandment that you have had from the beginning; the old commandment is the word that you have heard.” 1st John 2:7

it does not matter who—
composer or novelist,
song writer, poet, teenager,
artists of every media,
every person, every generation
believes they are the first
to have ever experienced . . .
love
but in truth
it is simply
that dust from which
we were created—
the same dust found
in the stars
in our pets
in the air we breathe
yet because we dismiss dust
as inconvenience in life,
no wonder we are so surprised
when we realize how much
we need love to be fully
human.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 18th

“He called the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled and tested the LORD, saying, "Is the LORD among us or not?" Exodus 17:7

it’s the oldest story
in the Old Book—
we are just never happy,
whatever God does.
given a beautiful garden,
we make creation all about us.
let loose from Pharoah’s cell,
we grumble about our new digs.
offered food without having
to produce or purchase it,
we complain about the use-by date.
having emptied our water bottles,
we moan that God doesn’t care a whit.
and, as usual, we expect someone else
to take our complaints to God.
maybe
if we kept our mouths closed,
but our eyes and ears wide open,
we might finally realize
that we are the only ones
who are turning this relationship
into a test.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 17th

“Do not fear what they fear, and do not be intimidated,” 1st Peter 3:14b

the knuckleheads are
at again, keeping
quite busy these days—
strutting around in their self
importance to convince us
we need more walls,
doors that slam shut
via remote gizmos,
a new picture book with
memes which would make
their moms cringe in horror.
so let us simply keep
sharing your
grace
hope
justice
love
compassion
welcome,
making a covenant
with you and others
to keep ignoring
the Department of Silly Fears
(which is what they fear most).

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 16th

“I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.” John 15:15

we haven’t earned our way
to the table by being good employees,
we have a seat because
you pulled up chairs
in the dust of our days.
while we scroll past cruelty
looking for memes which seduce,
while we believe mercy
should be rationed carefully,
while we do not see your stories
in the faces we rush past,
you call us friends—
leaning close to share God’s secrets
that love washes feet,
compassion sticks around,
that grace throws away the rules.
to be your friends now
is to forget what separates,
to be a listening heart
in the noise of the world,
to carry each other as if
we were carrying you.
may we learn friendship
as you model it for us—
unconditional,
risk-taking,
a threat to a time which
would turn us all into enemies.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 15th

“The LORD is a stronghold for the oppressed,
     a stronghold in times of trouble.” Psalm 9:9

cracks in hope’s resolve,
children playing in rubble,
folks teetering at exhaustion’s abyss,
so many bruised places, people,
and the Holy One wonders if
we might offer
not walled off fortresses
but unlocked doorways,
where the forgotten are welcomed
with no questions, no ID required.
where three in the morning
trembles are not cured
but held softly in compassion.
for it is that listening ear
which does not rush off,
another chair pulled to the table,
a name recalled after the world
has wiped it from its database—
those small, simple graces
God offers, so we may become
the refuge another needs,
and as we do, we may discover
that we are not the builders
of God’s havens of hope
but simply those who
hold open the doors.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 14th

“Now that you have purified your souls by your obedience to the truth so that you have genuine mutual love, love one another deeply from the heart.” 1 Peter 1:22

whether we use the
metric or imperial system
we need to realize that
this sort of love is not measured
in inches or centimeters
in ounces or litres.
our hearts are to pour
out love which washes away
the callous words of others,
love which becomes a deep well
where those in broken relationships
may drink deeply of healing,
love which becomes
a river overflowing its banks
to carry away hate and cruelty,
a crystal sea where
foolish actions can be tossed
and swept away
into forgetfulness.
a love so deep
we cannot measure it
no matter how much
we think we should
in order to love properly.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 13th

“We have escaped like a bird
   from the snare of the fowler;
the snare is broken
   and we have escaped.” Psalm 124:7

they would place us
in cages with locks,
where we can only flap
our wings, the bars made
out of the fears confining them,
but you come along
and pick the lock
gently reaching in to
cradle us in your hands
as you whisper love
as you breathe peace
as you stroke us with fingers
made soft from the balm of hope
and then
you toss us up
in the air, so
we can spread our wings
and fly in the freedom
of resurrection grace.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 12th

“But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.” John 20:24-25

despite all the shares
of the selfie of Mary
and the gardener,
despite the AI generated
meme of what that locked
room must have looked like,
despite the temptation to join
in the doomscrolling about
what really happened
in the tomb during the night,
Thomas simply wanted
the sort of tangible, touchable,
relatable proof that Jesus
was really Jesus.
because if he came back
with no wrinkles, no wounds,
no weariness on his face, but
with perfect hair, skin, teeth—
well, he obviously wasn’t the one
who had told Thomas about
the way, the truth, the life
and then lived it out completely.

© Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 11th

“The LORD went in front of them in a pillar of cloud by day, to lead them along the way, and in a pillar of fire by night, to give them light, so that they might travel by day and by night.” Exodus 13:21

through
the older couple
picking up trash
on their morning walk,
the coach
who sits the stars
so the scrubs can shine,
the custodian
who does the laundry
of the homeless kids
in the school,
you walk with us
each day;

in the mother
gently holding the hand
of her youngest
recovering from surgery,
in the grandparent
jotting down his memories
in his spidery hand,
in the youth group
delivering sandwiches
and blankets to storm
survivors in a shelter,
you light the way
through the nights.

© Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 10th

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

before
taking your child
by the hand so
you could skip together
into Eden’s new garden,
you turned to that
basilisk curled up
and keeping
is eye on you, and
taking it by
the scruff of the neck,
you drained its venom,
yanked its fangs and
tossed it back into the corner,
where it rests to this day,
toothless
useless
impotent.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 9th

“When they saw him, they worshiped him, but some doubted . . . ‘And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.’” Mathhew 28:17, 20b

funny?
ironic?
what?
we easily pick and choose
what we agree with—
you castigate the powerful
or call to account the wealthy
and we cheer you on,
but loving our enemies,
that’s where we part ways.
we can scruple with the best,
look at our feet and scuff
the dirt while avoiding your eyes,
find fence-sitting a spiritual gift—
but you,
never waver about us.
and even when we would
drop you in a New York minute,
you stick with us until
the bitter end
and beyond.
funny?
ironic?
what?

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 8th

“After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb.” Matthew 28:1

on the first day
of the week,
those who weren’t
gobsmacked into silence
scratched their heads and
looked to google for an answer.
on the second day
of the week,
the entrepreneurs tried
to buy the property for
future development.
on the third day
of the week,
the theologians and
biblical scholars were
developing webinars.
on the fourth day
of the week
the women were
once more being ignored
by everyone not a woman,
while you were gobsmacked,
scratching your head
wondering what else
you had to do for us
to believe in grace.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 7th

“A mixed crowd also went up with them, and livestock in great numbers, both flocks and herds.” Exodus 12:38

if we look for the definition
of grace in your dictionary, God,
maybe we would find
this picture instead—
a motley crew of folks,
some with no pedigrees,
others with no heirloom histories,
just wanderers woven by hope
into that community called chosen.
you didn’t stop them at freedom’s border
to check their lineage or
whether their documents showed
them coming from the right group—
you simply whispered, ‘come.’
and the no-names, the forgotten,
the hesitant with feet
worn by other journeys and
all longing to learn new songs,
as different from one another
as folks can be, but each daring
to journey into a promise
none of them could make
come true on their own.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

April 6th

“So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” Mark 16:8

if we could
we would push you back
into the tomb, repoint the stone
and seal it back into place.
but since
you have already proven
that will not work,
we’ll just put you into
that box marked ‘Easter’
along with the plastic eggs,
cute stuffed bunnies, and
some leftover chocolate
(if the pastor didn’t eat it all)
and store you in the back
of the closet, making a note
on our virtual calendar
to let you out next year,
if you promise to stop
scaring us with this nonsense
that death does not have
the final word.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Easter Sunday

“They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” John 20:13

we have taken you away
and made you the keynote speaker
for those who believe power
and wealth are the pillars
of your teachings, as well as
those who advocate for the needy
while buying another house
and increasing their portfolio.
we have taken you away
and hired you to be the
advocate for unjust wars
and the press secretary for
those who talk justice but
whose words turn to dust
when it is time to work
we have taken you away
as far as we can from
your simple gospel of love,
grace, justice, hope, and inclusion,
making it so complicated that
even experts cannot agree—
and all the while,
you are planting gardens
to feed the hungry,
calling the forgotten by name,
teaching children those games
where the only rule is everyone
gets to play on the same team,
and hoping we will eventually
notice where you are.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Dreich Saturday

“I have passed out of mind like one who is dead;
   I have become like a broken vessel.” Psalm 31:12

silence
is the only language needed
on this day which sits like a bird
on the fence between heartbreak
and hallelujah.
grief settles into our bones
like a friend moving in for a stay.
there are no stories to tell
no miracles to share on social media,
just the thick, silent, absence
which sucks at our souls like quicksand.
the promises seem to have slipped
through our fingers, like lyrics
to favorite songs we can’t recall.
hope has gone underground, perhaps
behind the stone, where we cannot see.
and yet, like the earth where
even now, unseen life is stirring,
may the silence be but a pause
and not an ending,
a waiting, but never forgetting,
because even in the stillness
God has not stopped working.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Grim Friday

“But this I call to mind,
   and therefore I have hope:” Lamentations 3:21

we stand, not at the foot,
but as far away as we can
trusting your fading sight
cannot see us,
and yet you forgive us.
as the soldiers mock
the religious types cackle
and thunder rolls in the distance
and lightning provides the
only proper lighting,
we keep our mouths shut,
and yet you forgive us.
as you slowly lower your head
and are swaddled
in the chill arms of death,
may we hear the hope
you whisper in that moment:

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
is mercies never come to an end;” Lamentations 3:22

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Holy Thursday

"Jesus answered, ‘You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.’” John 13:7

we’ve been to a lot
of funerals, but we still
don’t know much about death
but we do know a bit about
trying to be faithful in a time
when faithlessness is applauded.
even though we sing and trust
in that promise of Easter,
we still can’t explain resurrection,
but we do know a bit about
trusting God with our lives
even as we enter that dreaded
valley of shadows.
even with the hints and hopes,
if truth be told, we are not sure
where following Jesus will end
but this night reminds us
we are not left alone
on this pilgrimage, even
when it looks like we are.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Holy Wednesday

"Jesus said to him, 'Do quickly what you are going to do.'” John 13:27b

the days, months, years,
even generations it takes
to get that immovable object
called injustice to budge just a bit.
the process we can create
so that by the time a task force
appointed and charged to improve
school systems releases a rough draft,
the kids have already graduated.
gee, it’s funny how time slips away
when we are asked to care
for others, for creation, for the forgotten
but
turning our backs on you
saying we don’t know you
claiming we have no idea
who you are or what you’re doing?
that only takes a moment
any moment
every moment.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Holy Tuesday

“And he said to me, “You are my servant,
     Israel, in whom I will be glorified.” Isaiah 49:3

it’s not in the hallways
where power prowls with arrogance,
but in those lives tossed aside
like stones unfit for building.
it is not in the words of those
who just cannot stop telling lies,
but in the cracked voices
singing about justice.
it’s not when the bright lights
of the media shine
but in those alleyways
where hope flickers.
it is not in the exclusive club
for the privileged,
but in the shelters where stories
are folded like frayed blankets.
it is not in the five star restaurants
with a waiting list of months,
but in those palsied hands
still sharing day-old bread.
as we continue to drag our feet
and stay as far back as we can
on this road to the cross,
remind us that, if we want
to see your glory around us,
we will find it in the least among us
as we kneel before them
to learn your way.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Holy Monday

“But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, ‘Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?’ John 12:4-5

the palms are in the bins
out by the curb, with the rest
of the trash from the weekend.
the cleaners are doing
great business making sure
all the coats and cloaks
are cleaned and pressed.
the donkey is back where
it started, tethered to another
in a series of dreary days.
the hosanna crowd has wandered
back to school, to work,
to idle hands for the Evil One
to fill with nails.
and us?
we’re back arguing about
the church budget, asking
(once again) why
you always waste grace,
mercy, justice, and hope
on all the wrong people.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Palm Sunday

“The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them.” Matthew 21:6-7

most folks just walked by
for i am nothing to look at—
just a small, covered with dust
critter tethered to another morning.
yet, weathered hands untied me
whispering that i was needed
as if i might bolt in fear
and then,
a lightness sat upon me, as if
sorrow had been on a crash diet.
there was a quiet knowing between us,
just a gentle touch with his heels,
and we went down that road i knew well,
my hooves tapping out truth,
cloaks falling like questions
which had been asked about others
glory was shouted to the sky,
but in the stillness he exuded,
in the quivering in his breath,
i realized i was just
one servant carrying another,
whose silence would one day
speak louder than all
the praises offered today.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Sixth Saturday in Lent

Then Jesus said to him, "What do you want me to do for you?" The blind man said to him, "My teacher, let me see again." Jesus said to him, "Go; your faith has made you well." Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.” Mark 10:51-52

if only it was a matter
of clearing our vision,
of removing those cataracts
of snark, cruelty, and anger
which keep us from seeing
clearly how we walk
in the opposite direction from you.
but it is grace—
that simple, totally out
of left field gift.
it is kindness—
those simple acts which
cost us nothing except
some of our time.
it is mercy—
which so many share
with us without any fanfare
but we want a gold statue
simply for thinking about it.
these are the things (and,
in truth, so many more)
which we need to have
restored in our souls,
so we might get back
on the way you offer.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Sixth Friday in Lent

"They were on the road, going up to Jerusalem, and Jesus was walking ahead of them;" Mark 10:32a

like a dog who is eager
to pull the walker down the street,
and then darts off in a different
direction because of a squirrel,
like that grandchild who,
with 4 books to be read
and requesting 3 drinks,
can turn the bedtime routine
into a classic case of delay,
like that committee which
in its third iteration with
the same members and
familiar agenda to develop
an action plan which will
simply be stuck in a drawer,
we can come up with all
kinds of reasons to keep
tugging at the hem of your robe,
trying to keep you from meeting
whatever it is you see waiting
further down the road.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Sixth Thursday in Lent

““Since, then, we have such a hope, we act with great boldness,” 2 Corinthians 3:12

it doesn’t come like the sun
springing up in the east,
no mistaking it for what it is
hope comes like a candle—
trembling hands trying
to shelter it from fear’s winds
we walk through ash-filled days:
all we have been
all we have lost
all no one wants to hear about
so from deep within us,
you whisper, ‘be bold’
not with shouts
nor dead certainty,
not unafraid
but willing to risk—
to be open to tomorrow
to shine light in every
corner of shadowed valleys
for hope is not what we hold,
but it is who holds us
as we dare to step
into grace we do not see
yet
so that with faith as thin
as a thread about to snap
and hearts about to shatter
we will live as if
resurrection
is just around the corner
waiting to surprise us.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Sixth Wednesday in Lent

“You yourselves are our letter, written on our hearts, to be known and read by all; and you show that you are a letter of Christ, prepared by us, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts." 2 Corinthians 3:2-3

five weeks later,
those ashes which brought us
face to face with our mortality
have been forgotten,
left behind with the dust
in the worship space,
brushed off our foreheads
to drift in the wind as we
left that sacred moment.
but you were busy,
coming behind us with
a soft broom and dustpan,
gathering up those tiny bits
of grace which no longer
mean anything to us, and
sitting at your desk and
mixing them with your tears,
you write grace, hope, peace,
justice, welcome, joy, and life
on our souls and hearts, so
we might become your
love letters to those who
look in their mailbox every day
only to find it empty.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Fifth Tuesday in Lent

“I sought the LORD, and he answered me,

   and delivered me from all my fears.
Look to him, and be radiant;
   so your faces shall never be ashamed.
This poor soul cried, and was heard by the LORD,
   and was saved from every trouble." Psalm 34:4-6

i walked the streets
trying to find someone
who knew what i was
going through these days
but figured the homeless
veteran sitting in the doorway
would not have any wisdom.
i wandered through the day
the shadow of my worries
trailing behind me, as i longed
to find that joy i dropped
somewhere earlier, but never
noticed the golden retriever
with the goofy smile trembling
to be my faithful friend.
i sat at the bus stop
muttering disjointed words
and snippets of song which
echoed my soul’s pain,
and the little lady next
to me smiled, and whispered,
‘it will be okay, hon’ and held
my hand all the way until
i reached my corner, three
stops past where she
usually got off

© Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Fifth Monday in Lent

“Now go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you are to speak." But he said, "O my Lord, please send someone else." Exodus 4:12-13

you whisper,
don’t worry, I’m a pretty
good ventriloquist—
i know all the words you need.
but we have opened that
Old Book too often to know
what happens to folks who
agree to let you be their mouth.
as soon as you promise words,
we just grab hold of silence
because it seems a lot safer
than nodding our head in assent.
after all, there are a lot of folks
who are far more daring,
whose native tongue is courage,
whose voice doesn’t crack
like a teenage calling for a date.
but
you just keep at it,
lingering, nudging, not
willing to withdraw, but simply
waiting within our fears
as if our persistent reluctance
might just be the place
which will give birth
to your voice.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Fifth Sunday in Lent

“Now go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you are to speak." Exodus 4:12

if you wanted eloquence or
those polished influencers,
surely you wouldn’t turn to us?
yet, in these days when leaders
seem to think truth is an obscenity
and nations are under fear’s rabble,
when sirens sing compline at night
and breaking news offers names
the world would rather ignore—
you are foolish enough
to lean close to those who have trouble
getting words from mind to mouth,
to those kneeling to trace doubt in dust.
and all you have to offer
is not memorized speeches,
or well-rehearsed sound bites,
but that word which stutters
as it dares proclaim grace
in the corridors of power.
so, even if we are not ready
especially if we are not ready,
let us dare to open our mouths
so that the Holy One can speak
through our ragged breath,
for the breaking of this
already wounded world.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Fifth Saturday in Lent

“When the LORD saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, ‘Moses, Moses!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’" Exodus 3:4

in the waiting room
where parents hold hands
a bush flickers in the corner.
in hallways of schools where
question smolder just under
the ashes of apathy,
a bush blazes in a locker.
in those streets where justice
crackles with hope
while we do our best
to simply bypass those places,
bushes by the side of the road
are ready to ignite—
for there in all the ordinary
moments and places and people,
God waits,
not in wildfires of destruction
but in the embers which
refuse to die out.
and through the pings
on our computers and the
vibrations on our phones,
we are called to turn aside
slipping our feet out of
our apathy as well as fear.
not because the ground has changed
but because we dare to.
and barefoot on holy ground,
we just might hear our names
whispered
just as they always have been
until we are finally ready to answer.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Fifth Friday in Lent

 "Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.” 1 Corinthians 12:27

thankfully
you don’t sculpt marble saints
which collect dust on shelves,
but you craft bruised bread,
to be passed from shaky hands
to those who hunger for hope.
we are gathered,
not just in stained glass light
but scattered—
to midnight bus stops
and early morning surgeries,
in long lines to board planes
and kitchens in war-torn areas
where grief helps set the tables.
we are the body—
risking to listen longer than is easy
forgiving more deeply than deserved,
standing where love might cost everything,
and where grace is a rumor.
we are the hands willing to touch
the wounds others won’t
we are the feet walking
with the forgotten
down lonely streets,
we are the arms welcoming
every unseen stranger,
we are the hearts which wait
in fear’s shadows with little kids,
we are the minds which think
of others before ourselves.
God knows we are not perfect
but stitches together our
fragile, unfinished lives,
so we can become grace
for a world which has no idea
it might bring the healing it needs.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman



.

Fifth Thursday in Lent

“Now a new king arose over Egypt, who did not know Joseph.” Exodus 1:8

new leaders rise—
but they deny empathy.
over the prayers of acolytes
in the glow of TV lights,
they are deaf to songs of human need,
they refuse to see the quiet courage
lived out by ordinary neighbors or
by children fleeing climate change
and countries filled with hate.
it is all numbers to them, not names,
algorithms, not breaking hearts
tracking behavior, but ignoring breath.
borders are tightened
schedules restricted
fists clenched
as if strength meant control
and power leads to obedience.
they ignore the One
who lifts the forgotten,
who whispers freedom into
the ears of the outsiders,
who causes hope to shower
the justice-thirsty streets of cities.
and still—
in the midst of data breaches,
climate warnings,
the cries of the vulnerable
redemption blossoms in
in the cracks of ignorance
today
now
here
because God remembers
God breathes grace.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Fifth Wednesday in Lent

“For you are not a God who delights in wickedness;
     evil will not sojourn with you.” Psalm 5:4

it’s not the skeleton
in the closet that excites you,
nor my twisted choices
which delight you, O God,
but honesty which is pulled
from me by those lingering ashes
and illumined by grace’s dawn.
in this season of stumbling through
a desert closer than comfort,
you lean towards hearts
which seek to remove all
those layers of pretending.
so sift me, ever so gently,
through my hunger to do right,
through prayers filled with
impatient sighs and prattling words,
so that no excuse remains hidden
nor any illusion stay in the shadows.
for you do not want wickedness
to be a companion of yours,
nor would you want us
to choose it as our guide.
so like an artist whose palette is mercy,
craft me as your child with
a truer longing for hope,
a soul quiet in the midst of noise,
and a heart which opens
to your holiness like morning air
after a toss and turn night.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Fourth Tuesday in Lent

“But if we judged ourselves, we would not be judged.” 1 Corinthians 11:31

before we hold out
our hands for the bread,
perhaps we should pause
and notice the cracks in our lives—
those small resentments we gather
like loose change in our pockets,
those words we tossed away
like footprints on another’s soul.
in Lent, God holds a mirror before us—
not so we feel ashamed,
but as an invitation to
set aside those stones we carry
for just the right moment, the right person,
to toss old grudges into the bin,
to dance in mercy’s rain showers.
if we dared to judge ourselves
with the honesty of ashes
in the dawn of hope,
we could come to that meal,
not perfect by any means
but open to that grace
which is breaking the bread
for all.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Fourth Monday in Lent

He took him aside in private, away from the crowd, and put his fingers into his ears, and he spat and touched his tongue. Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, "Ephphatha," that is, "Be opened." And immediately his ears were opened, his tongue was released, and he spoke plainly. Mark 7:33-35

how easily we stuff
our ears with the cotton
candy of easy platitudes
so we do not have
to hear the cries of
suffering in our world.
when the voices of the
forgotten and vulnerable
become too loud,
we simply let apathy’s wax
build up to protect ourselves
from such annoyances so
we can continue our journey
blithely unaware
until you come along, yanking
us away from our privilege,
opening our ears with
that Sistine-like touch
from a life-giving finger,
so we might hear the beat
of your broken heart.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Fourth Sunday in Lent

“For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” Romans 8:24-25

we won’t find hope in those
boasting, loud, narcissistic voices,
but in the whisper of the nurse
in the ear of a patient in the middle of the night
in those quiet pauses as a parent
prays for children heading off to school
in the deep breath we take
as tomorrow waits just over the horizon.
if we could hold hope, well then
it would just become a possession,
an heirloom to store in a box.
so let us look for hope in that
solitary candle in a window placed
as a silent plea for peace,
in the kindness of the neighbor
who helps pick up the branches
after a windstorm stalked the street,
in that tenacious resistance to never
stop loving a world which insists
on hurting others time and again.
we may not be able to see, yet,
what we hope for, but
in the silence
in the waiting
in the patience
hope is breathing
hope is birthing
hope is saving

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Fourth Saturday in Lent

“O send out your light and your truth;
     let them lead me;
let them bring me to your holy hill
     and to your dwelling.” Psalm 43:3

oh, how i remember
those days, jumping up
and running out the house,
the screen door banging
behind me, as i joined
other kids, ready to get
in as much fun as we could.
oh, how i remember learning,
sometimes from the foolishness
i told myself was okay, as well as
those falsehoods slipping so easily
out of my mouth, putting
more gray in my Mom’s hair.
oh, how i remember begging
the sun to stay out just
a little longer so i could finish
just one more chapter before
having to slip into the house,

gently closing the screen door.
and now, in the winter of my life,
i feel those childhood playmates,
light and truth,
sticking close by me as i approach
the screen door at the back
of your house, where you wait
to welcome me home.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Fourth Friday in Lent

“Then Joseph brought in his father Jacob, and presented him before Pharaoh, and Jacob blessed Pharaoh.” Genesis 47:7

there, before the seat of power,
the old man stands, not with
armies at his back
or sacks of bribes,
but a face weathered by the desert
the dust of the journey
drifting off his sandals.
the powerful always have
places to sleep, their admirers
never hunger nor thirst,
but it is this border-crosser
who lifts arthritic hands to bless,
speaking grace over the one
who spends every night secure.
which should cause us to wonder:
when the exhausted family
crosses into a new land of hope,
when those who carry nothing
in their pockets but dreams,
when the forgotten stand just
at the edge of our privilege—
what blessings might be
whispered in their hoarse voices,
in the weary hands they offer,
in the grace which they never abandon?

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Fourth Thursday in Lent

“And he said to them, "How many loaves have you? Go and see." When they had found out, they said, "Five, and two fish." Mark 6:38

so tight-fisted
we will drive to five
different stores in order
to use that $1 off coupon,
stopping along the to refill our car
because the tank is almost empty.
so miserly
we will pull out our devices
so we can calculate
the exact gratuity our server
should get for caring for us
for over an hour (and not
one penny more than
is flashing on our screen).
watching us, you shake
your head, asking,
‘how many is too many,
how much is too much,
how empty do you think
your privilege leaves you
before you notice how scarce
the lives are around you?’

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Fourth Wednesday in Lent

“For I know my transgressions,
   and my sin is ever before me.” Psalm 51:3

the time may change, but
my life doesn’t, really—
i try to brush away truth
but it sticks to me like those
ashes of a few weeks ago.
i would like them to trail
behind me, these faults of mine,
but too often, i walk in their shadow
as if they were at the front
of the parade leading me
through this wilderness of Lent.
but you do not go in
your house and shut the door.
like a master gardener, you
kneel in the soil of my regret,
reaching out to touch where
that dust still marks my brow,
whispering,
‘grace can take root anywhere.’
and what was once the sign
of my all too human nature,
becomes the ground where
forgiveness takes root, even
if i fail to notice.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Third Tuesday in Lent

“Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary . . . Mark 6:3a

we could use a good
fix-it person these days—
someone who can come
and rewire our bodies so
we have more energy
to keep walking for justice,
someone with the skills
to reglaze the windows
of our souls with grace
so we can more clearly see
the forgotten of our world,
someone who can mend
the cracks in our hearts
so they can keep beating
out a rhythm of peace for
a world which seems bent
on destroying itself.

we could use a good
fix-it person these days.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Third Monday in Lent

“Your hands have made and
     fashioned me;
give me understanding that
     I may learn your commandments.” Psalm 119:73

you formed my hands
with a palm to caress
the faces of my loved one
and fingers to trace under words,
not to clench in rage.
you shaped my feet
so i might be able to accompany
those wearied by life
and jump rope with kids,
not to walk past the forgotten.
you crafted my eyes
so i might see the beauty
in a painting by a master
as well as in the chalk
drawings on sidewalks,
not go admire myself
in every mirror i meet.
you transplanted your heart
into me so that i might
love those the world
teaches me to despise,
not idolize the wicked.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Third Sunday in Lent

”There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” Romans 8:1

we could come up
with quite a list of folks
we think should be
standing before the court,
as we place a black cloth
on our heads, ready to pronounce
the harshest sentence we could—
while you offer to serve
as their defense counsel,
at no cost.
we find it so easy to offer
critique after critique on
how one lives, speaks,
dresses, worships, works,
and so much more, while
you would focus on their gifts
rather than on their tweaks.
we automatically head to
the time out chair in the corner,
ready to stay there until
we think you are appeased,
and all you want is for us
to climb up in your lap
for a snuggle and a story.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Third Saturday in Lent

“Then Jesus asked him, ‘What is your name?’ He replied, ‘My name is Legion; for we are many.’" Mark 5:9

today,
the answer would rise
from the depths of despair,
the graves of the grieving,
the empty hallways of life.
the ones fractured by cruel faith,
the forgotten spread across
a thousand gaunt faces,
children’s cries that rise from rubble,
voices longing for attention and
only encountering silence,
which carries the faint whisper,
”I am Legion,”
not just one but so many
not just one name but all
which are carried on the dust
from storms in the soul.
it is the nameless
and the vulnerable
poster children of a world
so broken but so afraid of healing
and it is us, lost in crowds,
struggling to be heard in noise,
doubting if we will ever
be made whole again.
but Jesus never flinches
but continues to call us
by name, no, not Legion,
but Beloved.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Third Friday in Lent

“Now the famine was severe in the land.” Genesis 43:1

it is not just an old story
pulled from a dusty book,
it is about our days as well.
in the stale air of our moments,
silos of compassion stand half-empty.
buckets clang against the dry bottom
of the wells of patience.
even justice is parceled out—
a cup for those who agree with us,
a bucket for those who idolize us,
a drib, a drab for those who do not.
peace sleeps in shadowed doorways
after knocking on fears who have set alarms.
hope is at the back of the line,
joining the weary who wonder
if anyone remembers that there
is enough mercy for all.
yet, like wheat sheltering under dust,
the promise of God quietly stirs—
if we begin to turn toward others again,
if we carry share from just
a small bag of compassion,
our famines will not have
the final word in our times.
grace is waiting to produce
a bumper crop for the world.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

Third Thursday in Lent

“’All things are lawful for me,’ but not all things are beneficial. ‘All things are lawful for me, but I will not be dominated by anything.” 1 Corinthians 6:12

‘i won’t go to jail’
we tell ourselves believing
freedom is license to do
whatever we want,
but you turn from that
lonely desert road of Lent,
asking are we serious.
yes, we can choose the
snark, anger, memes,
those tiny idolatries that
soon become a pantheon
of gods that demand my all.
but they are not food
nor are they mercy,
or even tiny seeds of hope
in this season we call
less is more, our freedoms
are sifted through your fingers
like sand, until all that is left
is what nourishes our parched souls.
so may we not be captive
to all which does not love us,
or kneel to all who would not
bless us if we paid them.
show us the true liberty
found in laying things down,
until we hunger and thirst
only for you.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman