February 16th

“God has taken his place in the divine council;
     in the midst of the gods he holds judgment:
‘How long will you judge unjustly
     and show partiality to the wicked?’” Psalm 82:1-2

they long to be our idols,
those tiny gods who want
to capitalize their names—
the hot breath of angry mouths
would seek to move over
the living waters of hope
until they become boiling springs
of bitterness,
the false messiah calls
the uber rich and those
who gorge on power and
want another helping to follow
down the roads where potholes
never appear and trash is always
picked up before it hits the curb,
the dragon sheds its scales
of lies and boasts, in hopes
they will cover the dust from which
life focused on empathy and
seeking justice for others was shaped.
and we look around wondering
where we might find
an emergency room
for our souls.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

Transfiguration

“Then he said to them all, ‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.’” Luke 9:23

unfortunately (for us),
it is not on that comfortable
shine-Jesus-shine mountaintop,
where we are challenged
to live out that faith which costs
us more than we think we have—
but in the valleys where grief runs
not burbling streams of joy,
in the hospital rooms where
we bathe the faces of loved ones,
in the streets where the forgotten
live in the shadows of loneliness.
unfortunately (for us),
it is not the chocolate, fast-food,
lack of exercise, or other such
trivial excesses we are asked to deny,
but our privilege which masks
complete indifference to injustice,
our self-righteousness which
covers-up our hoarding of grace,
our refusal to see God in the face
of those we look at through fear—
those are the crosses we are offered.
fortunately, for us, Jesus shows us
how it is done, if we dare but
follow.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

February 14th

“Now when Jacob saw Rachel, the daughter of his mother's brother Laban, and the sheep of his mother's brother Laban, Jacob went up and rolled the stone from the well's mouth, and watered the flock of his mother's brother Laban.” Genesis 29:1-10

somewhere, a little child
longs for someone to roll
away the stone of past due
envelopes on dusty tables
so joy might run free.
somewhere,
an immigrant needs the stone
shadows of fear and angry words
to be pushed aside so justice
can glimpse their face and welcome them.
somewhere, a weary widow
leans against the stone carved
from the hollowness of not needed clothes,
wondering if anyone will sculpt it
into hope which will call their name.
and so, God of where grace meets
the parched throats of pilgrims,
send us as stone removers—
compassion strengthening our backs,
grace callousing our hands—
until every well is opened
and every thirsty soul drinks
from the well spring of your love.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

February 13th

“Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, "Surely the LORD is in this place — and I did not know it!" Genesis 28:16

from the slipping out of bed,
grabbing the coffee,
checking notifications,
stepping into the day of sirens,
lights flashing their commands,
emails demanding answers,
we whisper, ‘just another day
in just another place.’
but grace waits
in that doorway we rush past,
in the immigrant we dismiss,
in the silence we try to put at ease.
and
in the slow moving lane going home,
on sidewalks covered with ice
or beaches too hot to walk on,
in cities overwhelmed by fear’s grief
and in those houses where ache
quietly closes the drapes—
we find the Holy right beside us.
for like great-great-great grandpa Jacob,
we blink rapidly at the light
hidden in plain people
in even plainer places—
in her breath, his heartbeat,
the world’s brokenness—
and we whisper in shock,
‘wow! God is here,’
and we never notice as we
sleepwalk through life.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

February 12th

“Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer.” Romans 12:12

scrolling through years of war,
wildfire, sirens down midnight streets,
and the empty chair grief pulls up
at far too many tables, joy
has lost its childlike innocence.
and yet—
it dares to look for the dawn,
not that the world is growing
kind, but because God always is.
anxiety hums like power lines
beneath our souls, and patience
walks barefoot on the shards
of shattered prayers, yet we
will continue to root ourselves
in the slow language of trust,
learning the grammar of waiting
which heaven whispers hope.
we will keep struggling to be
faithful in prayers, showing up,
hands wrapped around warm mugs,
cheeks carved with tears,
entrusting our brittle alleluias
into the callused hands of Jesus.
for hope is not a hashtag
but the heartbeat of
quiet resistance, allowing
our hearts to sync with God’s.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

February 11th

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God — what is good and acceptable and perfect.” Romans 12:2

ah, dear friends,
let us not fill our hearts
with trending fears,
with that outrage crafted
so it fits our thumbs.
our lives, these God-lives,
are not to be measured
in likes or shares or emojis.
those filters offered to us:
smoothing the edges of injustice,
seeing cruel rhetoric as the
natural heirs to Shakespeare,
Neruda or Angelou,
the lies seducing us that
we are what we display—
only drag us deeper into
that pit of unknowingness.
so, let us step out of doom scrolling,
let God rewrite those codes
of rivalry and covetousness,
as God reboots our souls
with tender compassion.
may we shut down all those
glowing screens and sit
in the still silence of that
Light which shows us the way
to that life where we do not
become more inhuman,
but are renewed by grace.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

February 10th

“When they kept on questioning him, he straightened up and said to them, "Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her." And once again he bent down and wrote on the ground.” John 8:7-8

they draw in closer, ready
to cast their verdict with
those stones harder than
their hearts clutched tight
in their hands—
but you stand there,
not to argue the case
nor to defend her, but simply
offering that challenge that
none of us want to take on,
and suddenly, the hand-sized rocks
become Sisyphean boulders we keep
trying to push to the top of Mount Judgment.
and as the silent wind
carries away all the accusations,
you remain kneeling on the ground,
shaping new life for her,
and all who release
their grip on self-righteousness,
from the dust of grace
which is always ready
to rewrite our stories.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman