July 31st

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 30th

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 29th

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 3rd

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 2nd

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

July 1st

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 30th

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 29th

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 28th

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 27th

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

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

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 26th

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

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

a lot of skill to do 

this sort of thing.’

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 25th

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 24th

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 23rd

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 22nd

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: Thom-Shuman

June 21st

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

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

(c) 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: Thom-Shuman

June 20th

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: Thom-Shuman

June 19th

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: Thom-Shuman

June 18th

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: Thom-Shuman

June 17th

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

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

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: Thom-Shuman