October 11th

“Then he said to his slaves, ‘The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet.’ Those slaves went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad, so the wedding hall was filled with guests.” Matthew 22:8-9

it’s a party—
invitations to folks who
never thought they’d get one.
the doors are wide open,
the table groans with food.
the weary find room,
the wounded, the wandering,
even the party crashers
are made welcome.
but we sit at home trying to decide—
our Sunday best pretensions,
our designer label righteousness,
that coat of many excuses
we slip into when love calls to us?
but the garment God offers
is woven with mercy and hope,
stitched with justice,
hemmed with humility—
that sort of cloth
Jesus was likely
to wrap around the forgotten,
drape over a stranger,
worn in even place longing
for justice to arrive.
so dress us for the feast, O God.
strip away our indifference.
wrap us in your grace.
then send us from your feast
wearing what we have received—
a love which fits every neighbor,
the welcome which is always in style.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 10th

“You have plowed wickedness, you have reaped injustice, you have eaten the fruit of lies. Because you have trusted in your power and in the multitude of your warriors,” Hosea 10:13

we use injustice as our plow,
sowing seeds of fear,
and then wonder why only sorrow grows.
we make sure anger’s thistles
receive as much water as needed,
and build fences as high as we can
to keep the outsiders out.
we place trust in might,
use wealth to wield power,
cling to the certainty
of those truths we create—
while the soils of our souls
hardens and cracks from
the drought of compassion.
still
you hand out seeds of grace
showing us a better way to plant—
sowing kindness not cruelty,
scattering justice not oppression,
planting peace in war’s fallow fields
continue to turn us, God,
that what we dare to plant
might be worthwhile for the community
you imagine for all your people.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman 
Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 9th

“When a great crowd gathered and people from town after town came to him, he said in a parable:” Luke 8:4

the algorithm knew everything—
the posts which would feed its anger,
the stories which just had to be true,
the ads which would max out its credit,
those voices which could incite a mob,
the confirmation that everyone thought the same.
oh yes,
the algorithm knew everything
about everybody—
except the name of the one
sitting next to it in church,
except how lonely the widow
it greeted every evening was,
except what the favorite book
of the librarian who assisted it
every time it walked through the doors.
then one week
the preacher urged
‘love your neighbor’
and the algorithm immediately
opened its search engine—
‘best neighbors near me’

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 8th

“God is a refuge for us.” Psalm 62:8c

when fear
sends us running
through streets
we no longer recognize,
when doors
we thought would open
close quietly
behind us,
and the world
pulls its curtains
against our cries—
you do not
turn away.
you stand
in the doorway,
arms open,
your heart
a shelter
wide enough
for all of us—
reminding us
that refuge
is not a place
we must find,
but a love
that has already
found us.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 7th

“For they sow the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind.” Hosea 8:7a

we sow fear—
words sharp as weapons,
truth twisted to suit us,
anger’s seeds scattered across
the lives of our neighbors.
we sow suspicion
and wonder why trust
does not blossom,
we sow cruelty
and do not understand
as its harvest comes
roaring down our streets.
as the prophet warned:
wind fraught with bitterness
does not simply blow itself out—
it gathers,
it rises,
becoming a whirlwind.
yet, you call us, God
to other fields—
mercy replacing malice,
peace planted where once
there was a bumper crop of pride,
compassion instead of contempt.
so may we learn that
what we plant today
is the harvest our children
will gather tomorrow.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 6th

“When Jesus heard this he was amazed at him, and turning to the crowd that followed him, he said, “I tell you, not even in Israel have I found such faith.” Luke 7:9

waiting for the fireworks
we miss faith’s small sparks—
a little boy, at the ready
hoping mom will teach him
how to bend the ball.
a widower who wanders
in the rain, searching for
the dog who slipped its leash
when a sudden peal of thunder
scared them both out of their
usually comfortable walk.
we think faith needs
to fall from heaven,
announcing itself on
every media platform,
but maybe it is simply
a small light in the dark,
 hand reaching for another,
 quiet choosing of hope,
a quiet trust that
even in the shadowed valleys
God walks with us,
a life which refuses
to believe for a single moment
that grace does not have
the final word in our lives.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 5th

"The voice of the LORD causes the oaks to whirl,
    and strips the forest bare;
and in his temple all say, 'Glory!'” Psalm 29:9

i have rested in old chairs

worn smooth by so many generations

and listened to their silent

prayers lodged in the memories

of the river stones in the walls,

and whispered, 'glory!'

i have taken my place in

decision-making church bodies

where the same discussion

keeps being tabled until

the very next meeting, and

muttered under my breath,

'good grief.'

i have sat on carpet squares

as little kids gathered around

to listen to a book being read

while their attention and hands

were distracted by the golden

retriever curled up on the floor

and sang to myself, 'thank you!'

  

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman