June 20th

“they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need.” Acts 2:45

the person on the corner
with the cardboard sign
asking for help—
why can’t we see her
as a sister desperate
for a meal, not a fix?
the busker with the music
case open at their feet—
how is it the assumption
becomes the proceeds are
simply going to a grifter,
not a brother trying to feed
some kids waiting at home?
could it be that,
even if we sold all our
possessions and goods,
we would believe that
we
are still the ones
who need the proceeds?

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: Thom-Shuman

June 19th

“For you do not give me up to Sheol,
   or let your faithful one see the Pit.” Psalm 16:10

in the pool filled with despair’s tears,
in the hollow of silent hearts,
in the hole dug by empty souls
where i have been tossed,
you whisper, ‘wherever you are,
I am.’
where anger tries to be the last word,
as the shadows try to barricade
the sun from drawing near,
when the thoughts of the grave
clenches my soul so tight,
i dare not breathe, you whisper,
‘even there, I am.’
you cradle me in your heart
as if i were as precious
to you as a sparrow,
simply because
i am.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: Thom-Shuman

June 18th

“He said to them, ‘Why do you do such things? For I hear of your evil dealings from all these people.’” 1st Samuel 2:23

they think no one cares,
that no one listens to
those quiet backroom meetings,
those bruised words in smiles,
the way power is offered
for crypto currency.
but questions get around,
truth whispers in the shadows,
and the Old Book implores,
why??
not to judge them
but to open their eyes
not to punish them,
but to nudge warped souls
toward that voice they ignore.
maybe grace is in such questions
offered in a quivery voice,
while God still waits at the
window,
hoping the answer will be
those prodigals finding
their way home.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: Thom-Shuman

June 17th

“When shall I come and behold
   the face of God?” Psalm 42:2b

in evenings of lengthening shadows
and days of hope singing
so low we can barely hear it,
when silence parches our souls
and prayers hang loose as if
we have had a sudden loss of faith,
perhaps
in the smile creasing
the immigrant’s face or
that breath which signals
the first drops of rain,
you shimmer,
not in stunning sunsets
but in a sandwich offered by the weary,
in grace as soft as slippers,
in the creases on a nana’s face.
and as i sit and ponder
when i will get a glimpse of you,
you are on the worn pavement
crying out for justice,
in the tears shared at gravesides,
in that knot of kids selling lemonade
and
i realize i have simply
forgotten how to see.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: Thom-Shuman

June 15th

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” John 1:1

in the hush between
the cracking of chaos
and creation taking is first breath,
there was a Word.
before God wound the clock
on the mantle over Eden’s fireplace
or stars whispered stories in the night,
there was a Word.
not a shout of hubris
but a lullaby of love,
not a doctrine to memorize
or a puzzle to be put together,
but hope offered in a hand.
at the beginning, with God,
with every moment, in God,
from before any bang, big or little,
was God—
the Word moving into every
weary and forgotten neighborhood,
learning our names, discovering our faults,
and willing to love us, despite us.
still.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 14th

"Set me as a seal upon your heart,
as a seal upon your arm;
for love is strong as death,
passion fierce as the grave.
Its flashes are flashes of fire,
a raging flame.” Song of Songs 8:6

it’s not a burning bush
or a thunderclap on a mountaintop
or even a dove showing up at baptism.
it is more like a love note
we discover in our purse or pocket
that you, God, slip in when we are not looking.
you aren’t necessarily asking for our heart,
but that we make you permanent,
immutable, as if wax pressed
by the Beloved’s ring, or like
love etched on scarred hands.
you remind us that your love
is anything but safe, that
it is stronger than death,
as passionate as what
we feel for our soulmates,
yet you would place it
on our hearts with a butterfly’s kiss,
you would tattoo it on our souls
where it would burn so bright
others can see it as clear as day.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

June 13th

"Then he entered the temple and began to drive out those who were selling things there" Luke 19:45

we immediately begin
to clap and cheer as
Jesus clears out
the privileged from their head tables,
the narcissists waiting
for their parade to pass by,
the powerful who sell their souls
for fancy airplanes and bigger portfolios.
but
then as he turns and notices
us
sitting at our tables
piled high with dogmas and doctrines,
our fancy brochures for seminars
on nothing-but-growth promised,
our books that guarantee
the sort of prosperity which will
us the envy of all our friends,
the new and improved faith
based on that old monasticism,
we see that glint in his eyes
and the twitch in his fingers
and start to sweat . . .

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman