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