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