February 5th

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us,” Hebrews 12:1

grandparents praying through the night,
friends who refused to step aside,
young people who left school
to ride buses to sign up voters,
saints who would burst out laughing
if anyone called them that—
they ran their race in kitchens
as well as in courtrooms,
while crossing bridges knowing
what awaited them on the other side,
who saw that justice which endures
while so many others were blind.
weary folks in scrubs,
kids in school uniforms,
check out folks in grocery stores,
bus driver watching kids get home,
all who put on their weary shoes
so they can keep running
when faith feels so thin,
who give up pride to forgive,
whose trembling hands cup fragile love,
whose whistles are held tight
in their hands, ready to be used.
they all lean toward us,
surrounding us with courage
and whispering hope—
‘toss aside those heavy fears,
keep going, don’t stop,
you are never alone.’

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

February 4th

“Come, bless the LORD, all you servants of the LORD,
     who stand by night in the house of the LORD!” Psalm 134:1

tonight, we find them,
blessing the Lord—
not in cathedrals nor halls of power,
but where late-night nurses rinse
their hands under dim lights,
where families count the slow
breaths in hospice beds,
where immigrants sleep
with one eye open for cruelty
trying to creep in during the night,
and the other gazing at hope
sitting in the corner, watching
over them when they can’t sleep.
bless the Lord, servants of night hours—
standing guard over the vulnerable,
holding the line when fear
links arms to approach them,
singing songs of hope when faith
grows as thin as the sun in winter.
for God, who never sleeps,
especially as the world exhales
and shadows stretch toward us,
listens closely as our quiet devotion
grows like nightlight in the hallway,
and turns to the darkness and
simply says,
you do not get the last word.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

February 3rd

"By faith Isaac blessed Jacob and Esau in regard to their future.” Hebrews 11:20

it is so hard to see tomorrow,
much less that dim future,
when our streets are iced over
in so many different ways,
when our times are marked
by rivalry and regret, like siblings
that jostle for blessings and inheritances,
when nothing seems to be as sure
as the fact that uncertain days
fill every date on our calendar.
yet our ancestors in this mystery
called faith, left us with some hints—
dare to hold our hands open not clenched tight,
trust that God keeps bending us toward justice,
believe that mercy is never far from us.
so, when we fear that tomorrow will be so heavy,
we might drop it and shatter our fragile world,
may we, by faith,
offer blessings and not curses,
speak life rather than fear,
plant seeds we may never sit under,
choose love over cynicism,
trust that God weaves hope
into the messes of our lives,
and leave the future up to God,
knowing it is not ours to control.
may we be blessings of hope,
grace, love, peace, justice,
inclusion, and wonder,
by faith.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

February 2nd

“Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Hebrews 11:1

Faith
has nothing to do with
answers clutched in our hands,
it is that gentle weight of hope
cupped in our palms.
it is there, just at the edge
of the future, with nothing
but a promise and believing
that is more than enough
to keep our knees from knocking.
it is learning to feel
the invisible breath of God
in all our ordinary moments—
cleaning bathrooms and
making grocery lists,
in knocked-to-our-knees
grief that keeps showing up,
as well as the joy which
takes our hands and holds tight.
it does not demand proof,
but simply sits with us
waiting
listening,
leaning its whole life
toward those whispers of love
lingering all around us.
Faith is gentle persistence
to live as if the light is real
even as shadows surround us,
trusting that what we hope for
is already wrapping its arms
around us.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

February 1st

“Abraham answered, "Let me take it upon myself to speak to the Lord, I who am but dust and ashes.” Genesis 18:27

ankle deep in the dust
of Abraham’s words, the ash
of that audacious hope in our throats,
we dare to speak our shattered hearts.
yes, we are insignificant, as others remind us,
but grace is burning at the edges,
justice is bent like a bruised reed,
mercy is shouted down by violence,
cruelty keeps jotting down names,
and fear creeps into our souls
like winter’s chill into arthritic bones.
yet, we dare not keep silent,
not so much out of dogmatism
but because silence is simply giving up.
so in those faint echoes of that ancient voice
may we have the humility to know who we are,
the courage to confront who we refuse to be,
and the persistent hope to ask
who we might yet become.
if only a remnant dares to speak,
if only a fragment of the faithful
can begin to make a difference,
then start with us.
our lives becoming questions
to challenge the powerful,
answers which will not turn to futility,
songs which keep walking
the streets of mercy,
and prayers taking one shaky step
at a time, but never backwards.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 31st

 “But he said to them, "It is I; do not be afraid." John 6:20

they live in fear:
that person standing
in the road, not to annoy us,
but because the spot where
they stand to catch a bus
is covered with ice.
they live in fear:
the folks who walk
in the street, not because
they have had a few drinks,
but the plows clearing the roads
so we privileged can travel
in warmth and safety covered
up the sidewalks they need
in order to get to their jobs,
their homes, their lives safely.
they live in fear:
the folks who stand on corners
in sub-zero temps hoping someone
might slip them the cash
they need to get a warm room
for the night.
they live in fear:
because rarely do they see
Jesus coming toward them
saying there’s nothing to fear,

because we are too busy

to notice them.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo : @Thom-Shuman

January 30th

“My soul also is struck with terror,
     while you, O LORD — how long?” Psalm 6:3

how long indeed!
before those nightmares
which accompany our days
slip back under the covers
of our beds where they belong?
how long indeed!
before fear takes off its masks,
packs up its weapons,
loads up its vehicles built
strictly for intimidation, and
returns our streets, our neighborhoods
back into the communities
of kindness and welcome
they once were known for?
how long indeed!
before the chillblained hours of our grief,
where grace is thin as winter daylight,
are thawed by the warm rays
of hope, justice, compassion, and peace?
O Lord,
how long indeed!

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman