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

January 29th

“’You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that testify on my behalf. Yet you refuse to come to me to have life.’” John 5:39-40

we trace our fingers
down the verses
as if they were maps
pointing the way to our
preconceived destinations.
we take the words, turning
them over like stones, hoping
to find all our prejudices, our
anger, our fears living underneath.
but the pages rustle softly—
not about life but nudging us
toward it, like sunflowers
turning to that source of light
which stands before us.
oh, we can memorize all
the names of the bodies of water,
yet we miss the water lapping
gently at our toes.
we dip our nets into verses,
trying to pull forth a great haul
of judgement upon others, of
affirmation of our self-righteousness,
but love simply keeps whispering—
not in the margins or in the past tenses,
no, i am breath, i am now, i am
that door you keep reading about
but refuse, out of spite, to open.
and the Old Book
softly closes its pages
so that we might look up
and see life holding open its arms.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 28th

“but the Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him,
     in those who hope in his steadfast love.” Psalm 147:11

the politicians?
they would take it
in a heartbeat and
offer it to the person
who donated the most money
to their campaign.
the superstars?
they would leave it
on the pitch, covered in
the muck and mire of
just another game.
the religious scammers?
they would add it
to all the rest accumulated
from so many suckers as
they build more and more
campuses generating
more and more adulation.
but you?
you wrap it gently in your love,
tying a ribbon of grace around it
and place hope back into my heart.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 27th

“When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, "Do you want to be made well?" John 5:6

it is not just our bodies
etched in the dust of life,
it is our years of waiting as justice
is pressed flat into the ground—
but Jesus doesn’t begin mansplaining,
he doesn’t offer a sermon on suffering,
or even tell us to just try harder.
he looks—
that look which recognizes how long
pain has been rolling our names
around in its mouth and on its tongue.
and he offers a word—
not a paragraph, not a scolding,
but an invitation,
to leave the age-long ache behind,
to return our self-help books,
to set aside our survival gear,
to let go that identity others imposed.
and in hospital rooms and churches,
in shelters and on our devices,
in the streets where cruelty
tries to beat down compassion,
in those lives where hope and fear
compete for breath,
the question lingers in the air.
and we wonder, as we often do,
dare we meet the question honestly
or just stick where life has put us,
while Jesus waits,
not tapping his foot
or glancing at his watch,
but simply looking to see
if we will choose fullness of life
rather than the futility of fear.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 26th

“Restore us again, O God of our salvation,
    and put away your indignation toward us.” Psalm 85:4

bring back that quiet courage
which will help us begin
again that longing for justice.
turn us away
from the angry choruses,
the fear news networks,
the well-rehearsed outrage
which refuses to speak
the names of the dead.
replace our priorities
when truth is set aside
for pithy sound bites
when the compassionate
are accused of naivete
and cruelty is valued for its efficiency.
God of second chances
(at the very least)
turn us away from
unfollowing another’s suffering,
mistaking shouts for success,
forgetting the faces of neighbors.
in hands open to welcome,
at tables where chairs are added,
in all-too-valuable moments
being devoted to listening,
may we discover your saving grace.
take us back, O God—
not to those yesterdays filled
with hate, violence, and pain
but to those days when we live
as we are meant to live
before fear seduced us
away from your love.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 25th

“Then looking up to heaven, he sighed and said to him, "Ephphatha," that is, "Be opened." Mark 7:34

you look up—
past the tear-stained sky
pressing down on Minnesota,
past the winter storm which silences
highways and seals houses shut.
you sigh—
your breath heavy as the snow,
at shelters overflowing,
at empty shelves in groceries,
at feet frozen by witnessing.
you speak—
‘open up’
to ears plugged by narcissism,
to mouths frozen by rhetoric,
to hearts slammed shut against
the cold of the suffering of others.
‘open up’
to those covered by ice,
to all counted as the least,
or not even in the running.
‘open up’
those policies hardened by fear,
compassion rationed out by the teaspoon,
mercy which has been packed away.
and the Spirit leans into
the bitter winter winds of hate,
refusing to give up carrying the word
into sanctuaries and onto sidewalks,
into narrow alleyways and corridors of power,
until all that is closed—
slowly, too slowly perhaps—
to thaw
let us hear
let us speak
let us persist
always opening our lives
to the most vulnerable
especially while the storm rages.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 24th

“You have kept count of my tossings;
     put my tears in your bottle.
     Are they not in your record?” Psalm 56:8

even now—
in ice-covered communities,
down hallways where fatigue whispers,
at airports where goodbyes
wound the air, you count our
twisting and turning.
even now—
as the world breaks so loudly,
as breaking news is stitched from grief,
as pain learns new vocabularies,
you keep track of our moans.
and yet, you notice
that mother steadying her breath
to lullaby frightened children,
that stranger who clears winter’s
debris off sidewalks of neighbors,
hope needing crutches
but refusing to stop marching.
you gather up the tears
of cities confronting bullies,
of children unafraid to ask
adult-sized questions,
of white-haired veterans
watching the history of hate
being repeated without question
and not one drop evaporates
without you noticing.
it is as if heaven’s streets
were lined with little glass bottles,
a name written on each one,
proof of pain which was seen
and never dismissed as imagination.
so, let our tears fall where they may
for they are already on their way home.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 23rd

“The woman said to him, "I know that Messiah is coming" (who is called Christ). "When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us." Jesus said to her, "I am he, the one who is speaking to you." John 4:25-26

at that modern well
called a coffee shop, she sits
scrolling headlines with one hand
and using the other to shield her eyes
wondering if today, truth might speak
without having to shout.
when the wars fall into silence,
when the powerful learn to listen,
when we dare to learn the names
of those we meet, then maybe
someday has finally arrived.
we expect transparency
to come into our lives
at the moment we have
marked on our calendars,
then you show up
not on primetime or streaming
not racking up numbers on social media,
but finding us in the weary places,
where we thirst for honesty.
and it is not
‘i will be’
not ‘i was’
but I AM
in every broken relationship
in every long line of the parched,
in every argument where truth
is kept out of the vocabulary—
simply
knowing our names
and offering us a drink
despite all the skeletons in our closets.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 22nd

“I come to the end—
   I am still with you.” Psalm 139:18b

at the end of the nightmare,
you comfort me.
at the end of the day,
you are setting a place
for me at your table.
at the end of a relationship,
you call me your beloved.
at the end of my rope,
your arms are wide open
to catch me.
at the end of my to-do list,
you have written
‘be still and know . . .’
at the end of my faith,
you send others
to strengthen my hope.
at the dead-end of the road,
you stand pointing
the way i should go.
at the end,
i feel you holding tight

to my hand, just as you

always have, even when

i believed i was on my own.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 21st

“And we want each one of you to show the same diligence so as to realize the full assurance of hope to the very end,” Hebrews 6:11

some days, hope is just a
thin vapor, like smoke drifting
from a candle just put out.
some days, hope is loud enough
to shout down our worries
so we can refuse to blink
before icy stares and continue to
blow whistles as loud as we can.
some days, hope is tired fingers
wrapped around a fraying rope
of civility, and we worry that
if we let go, everything will
come tumbling down.
some days, hope seems as
old as our creaking bones
and as fragile as our frightened fears,
yet is as daring as any toddler
to lean forward even at the risk
of falling flat on their face.
and every day,
hope kneels gently beside us,
whispering, ‘stay,’
stay when justice is unfinished
stay when love costs more
than we think we have,
stay when it seems God
has wandered away, but
has just gone ahead, trusting
hope to be our companion.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 20th

“When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.” Genesis 9:16

how like God, once again
turning expectations on their head—
that bow is hung in the sky
not as a threat or weapon
but a multi-hued reminder
to us to keep remembering.
to take a breath in the rain
and pay attention to what still is,
colors drenching fear ‘til it is gone,
clouds taking a step back
as promise stretches grace
across the sky before our eyes.
this is not a contract carved
in stone or codified in books,
but light,
so fragile it might disappear,
so faithful it always returns
and so, whenever it seems
this weary world is about to drown
in its own anger, noise, power
God stands next to us, looking up
and, touching the sky with hope,
reminds us in the silence
that we are not forgotten.
for the miracle is not
that the flood waters receded,
but that grace always remembers
where we are.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 19th

“The Lord upholds all who are falling,
     and raises up all who are bowed down.” Psalm 145:14

the Old Book reminds us
of the hand beneath the falling,
of a shoulder for those
weighed down by injustice—
a promise heard by Martin,
who believed God’s strength
can be seen in a wearied people
linking arms for justice,
could be heard in the feet
never too sore to march.
for God picks up the fallen,
not by gaslighting the weight
but by sharing it,
not with boasting or bravado
but with bread,
not with taunts of hate
but with songs carried
from the jails of the powerful,
not with false promises
but with shared hopes
and a dream whispered
until it learned how to walk.
bruised bodies and weary souls
are upheld when justice is practiced daily,
when love refuses
to give up a seat to hate,
when grace bends down
to proclaim, ‘you are not alone.’
rise,
we will stand together.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 18th

“But each of us was given grace according to the measure of Christ's gift.” Ephesians 4:7

it doesn’t come in, banging
the door open like a little kid.
no, grace is like that soft breeze
stirring the curtains in the morning.
we don’t all receive the same portion,
but each of us has that amount
we need, weighed out by Love.
a thimble here, a cup there,
a river for him, a waterfall for her,
whatever we need to fill
that emptiness inside of us.
it is a gift that is not scattered
carelessly like easy promises
but offered for those whose
hearts are shattered,
for all who know the ache of waiting,
everyone who knows what
each day costs them.
it’s not a competition but an invitation
to serve where you find yourself
to share what is given
to stop standing next to others
to see who is better, wiser, whatever
that’s grace
never more than we need,
nor less than what we can share,
just enough to become
the love which is needed
wherever we are.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 17th

“Noah did this; he did all that God commanded him.” Genesis 6:22

look,
we don’t need to be skilled
enough to build an ark,
but we can create hope
with the building blocks of kindness.
look,
we can’t be expected
to save all humanity,
but we can be a better friend
to those tossed aside
by the privileged of our world.
look,
alone, we don’t have
to try to save all of creation,
but if we recycle more and not
leave such big footprints,
who knows what might happen?
look,
we aren’t all called to be Noah,
but to be grace,
hope
justice
compassion
inclusion
wherever we are.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 16th

"I pour out my complaint before him;
     I tell my trouble before him.” Psalm 142:2

maybe,
when we step
to the other side of grace,
God will explain everything.
those nagging questions which
tickle us awake at night,
the irreparable divisions
we cannot seem to bridge,
the suffering we cannot dismiss
as easily as the privileged seem to do.
someday,
when we step
to the other side of grace,
God will explain everything.
so, until then,
let us love as expansively
as Jesus did,
let us harvest the hope
planted deep within us,
let us be that grace-companion
someone is desperately needing
for these are all we have
to offer until we step
to the other side of
grace.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

January 15th

“Nathanael asked him, "Where did you come to know me?" John 1:48a

that’s the question, isn’t it?
the one folded up
in the back pocket of doubt.
‘have we met before?’
it is as if someone recognizes us
by accident, thinking
we’re someone else, as if
we need to be introduced to love.
but Jesus doesn’t pull up a selfie
or a bunch of text messages,
it’s simply the fact that
he saw us when we were lost,
with no memorized answers,
no hiding place no one else knows,
no practiced explanations.
you see, we are not discovered
because we know the right questions,
or come from the right family,
or went to the best schools,
but grace keeping an eye out for us,
recognizing us long before
we catch a glimpse of love—
a holy surprise.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 14th

 “If you do well, will you not be accepted? And if you do not do well, sin is lurking at the door; its desire is for you, but you must master it." Genesis 4:7

like kids coming to our doors
on Halloween
you show up—
the speaker garbed in
sparkling robes of charisma.
that new friend who, out of
the goodness of their hearts,
invites us to get in on a great deal.
a co-worker whose flirting
behavior slowly draws us
into a web of betrayal.
some clown wearing silly hair
and enough make-up
to cover the cruelty which
is at the heart of their act.
but when the robe is off,
and the dream of riches turns to dust,
when our hearts are shattered
and the make-up removed,
we recognize you—
that master of disguises
who has fooled more people
than will ever admit it.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 13th

“I lie awake;
     I am like a lonely bird on the housetop.” Psalm 102:7

night stretches its cloak
over the neighborhood,
as, like a little bird
nestling alone on a rooftop,
i lie awake, tiny enough
so no one notices me,
light enough to be blown away
like the stardust drifting down.
watching the shadows behind
the glowing windows below,
i listen to the pauses
in the heartbeats of life,
and watch over worries
that tiptoe down the streets.
but even in these thin hours,
knowing the ache (as do
so many) of being unseen—
you find me, you find us!
sitting beside our sleeplessness,
offering grace to nourish us,
teaching us that loneliness
is where love waits patiently
to gather us like a parent.
and so, we will rest,
no longer afraid, for you
never forget even the
loneliest of us.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 12th

“For you are not a God who delights in wickedness; 

    evil will not sojourn with you.” Psalm 5:4

you have no truck
with those who rely
on their personal morality.
just as you have always done,
you roundly condemn (and
hold accountable) those who
claim some sort of divine anointing
yet like to roll around in muck.
you refuse to be a landlord
for all who traffic in shadows
and never put a place setting
at the table for cruelty.
you will not let evil and anger
become members of your entourage
nor do you pretend hate is holy
or offer lodging to lies.
simply put, you take no pleasure
in words spiked with razor-like barbs,
with our excuses for soft violence,
those sins disguised as good choices.
not because you are prim and proper
but because you love too deeply
to let us drink cups of poison
or eat bread kneaded
with the yeast of bitterness.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 11th

"Then God said, 'Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness;'" Genesis 1:26a

vision to search out
the furthest galaxies
and to catch a glimpse
of a widow weeping
on her front porch,
hearing to listen to
the cries of the forgotten
and to hearken to that
still small voice in our soul,
hands to reach down
and lift the fallen, as well
as to be grabbed by a
teetering toddler,
feet to run towards those
who are losing their
tenuous grip on hope
and to walk quietly in
the corridors of hospice,
hearts to open wide
to welcome the strangers
and to break in grief
with our closest friends,
souls to know the gentle
touch of wisdom from a
person slipping into dementia
and to be healed by
the butterfly kisses of little kids,
these are the pieces of you
planted deep within each of us,
by your grace, Imaginative God.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 10th

“I was ready to be sought out by those who did not ask, to be found by those who did not seek me. I said, "Here I am, here I am," to a nation that did not call on my name.” Isaiah 65:1

when we were waiting for certainty
you kept taking chances on us,
before we knew your name
you had memorized ours.
when we wandered aimlessly
you turned your heart toward the road,
before we knocked
you stood in the doorway.
when we didn’t know where to look
you were keeping an eye on us,
before we knew the words we needed,
you bent down to learn our language.
for that is the way you show up—
love unannounced
grace unearned
hope calling us home,
justice creating new communities.
it wasn’t thunder we heard,
but a soft breath
offering an unyielding promise--
here i am
here i am
and the silence which seemed
to push us apart echoed
with that voice which had walked
toward us the whole time.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 9th

“I did not speak in secret,
    in a land of darkness;
I did not say to the offspring of Jacob,
    "Seek me in chaos."
I the LORD speak the truth,
    I declare what is right.” Isaiah 45:19

justice does not come
masked, armed, camouflaged
to strike fear and terror,
but comes to lift the forgotten,
to offer welcome to the stranger.
love does not disparage others,
speak falsehoods as if true,
does not covet another’s belongings,
but is content with what it has—
so much that it is willing to share.
grace is not reserved for the privileged,
not sold to the highest bidder,
or seeks to disrupt people’s lives,
but is set out in yards and neighborhoods
with a sign that simply says
‘this is for anyone who needs it.’

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 8th

“He called the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled and tested the LORD, saying, ‘Is the LORD among us or not?’” Exodus 17:7

those ancestors were good role models.
our throats are a wilderness
named ‘Is God here?’
where we continue to toss
questions – rhetorical as well as trick –
at you every chance we get.
our tongues are dust, but
we will rail against the sky
with every breath.
our lives are like cracked jars,
which cannot hold the clear
waters of faith poured into us—
yet, you do not walk away.
wounded by our thirst for answers,
listening as doubt hones questions
against the whetstone of tomorrow,
you step into our arguments,
striking mercy, not sparks, from rock
and transforming gripes into cups.
may we learn to trust
the spring beneath our questions,
to hear grace flowing, even
as we ask,
‘are you with us, or not?’

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

+Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 7th

“The LORD is my light and my salvation;
    whom shall I fear?
The LORD is the stronghold of my life;
    of whom shall I be afraid?” Psalm 27:1

those wise ones—
did they only see their shadows
beginning that journey home
by a different road, or
was there no need for a star
since love had opened their eyes?
that family—
still hard scrabbling with life,
trying to find someone who could
create new identities and papers,
did they wonder if they should stay
in the shadows of poverty, or
follow the breadcrumbs of grace
back to Egypt?
and we—
with sovereignty being tossed aside
with ice-cold fear stalking neighborhoods
with temptations nudging us to shred
those resolutions to be kinder and gentler,

dare we live and act and trust
that there is absolutely nothing
fear can do to destroy your
hope, justice, grace, love, peace?

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman


Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 6th

“Its gates will never be shut by day — and there will be no night there.” Revelation 21:25

as we follow the star
towards journey’s end,
we come, not to a castle keep
but to a welcome,
not to power only for the privileged
but to a child whose breath
swings open the hinge of heaven.
no password is needed, nor passports,
doors are not padlocked with fear,
hope has no curfew,
light streams from the doorways
to welcome strangers from everywhere—
politicians and the poor in spirit,
peacemakers and those who traffic in trouble,
knuckleheads and kids with skinned knees
all walk through wide open doors,
empty-handed, as surprised as anyone
to experience God’s imaginative grace.
for this is the final revelation
the last epiphany
the light at the end of the tunnel—
love’s light always on,
God refusing to lock any door,
throwing away the keys,
knowing what would happen
if we ever chanced upon them.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 5th

“As shoes for your feet put on whatever will make you ready to proclaim the gospel of peace.” Ephesians 6:15

God kneels down,
lacing up our shoes,
not with knots of dogmatism
but with threads of mercy,
not so we can run away
but for that long journey to faithfulness.
no matter what we think
peace is not the stilling of anger
but daring to walk barefoot
on shards of angry discourse,
to stroll grief’s sidewalks,
to risk stumbling over that
potholed ground of grace.
may every step we take
become prayers—
into hospices where death
lurks in every shadow,
into living rooms where
the silence of grief lives,
down those neighborhoods
where people are forgotten
the vulnerable are evicted.
and when we come home,
God smiles,
slipping off our shoes
to soak our aching feet
in the warm waters of love.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 4th

“And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” Colossians 3:17

now,
before the world bangs the gavel
and wants your testimony,
take just a moment,
and place your ordinary hands,
callused or smoothed,
chapped by worry, nails chewed short,
into those hands of grace held out
in these moments.
your voice may be worn out,
you may feel the need to offer
stumbling apologies,
but borrow every word from God
so they can become blessings.
every little chore,
those unnoticed gifts of compassion,
bearing patience on your shoulders,
making the choice not to hurt—
is part of the economy of Jesus
where no act, so word, no life is wasted.
you don’t need to be holy,
just hopeful.
you don’t need to be privileged,
just be thankful, shown in
the way you walk,
the way you speak,
the way you serve,
the way love knows your name.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 3rd

“He said, "Go out and stand on the mountain before the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by." Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.” 1 Kings 19:11-12

surrounded by thousands
we will crane our necks to the sky
to watch fabulous fireworks, but
cannot look up from our devices
to catch the delight on Nana’s face
as she blows out the candles
on her 90th birthday cake.
we don the helmets and vests
and climb into the raft to hang on
for dear life in the whitewater river,
but sit on the porch with a book
while the kids beg us to run
through the sprinklers with them.
we turn up the volume
so we can hear every angry word,
every bitter syllable uttered
by our favorite podcaster,
politician, influencer, whoever—
but our legs start to bounce
and we begin to drum our fingers
on the nearest surface whenever
you invite us to listen to the
sheer silence of grace.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

January 2nd

“We must no longer be children, tossed to and fro and blown about by every wind of doctrine, by people's trickery, by their craftiness in deceitful scheming.” Ephesians 4:14

once, we were so empty
we could be carried by anything—
every shouting voice of anger
every fear behind wisdom’s mask
every glittering promise,
but love is the solidity we need
and grace grounds our souls.
slowly
gently
cautiously
Jesus teaches us to stand,
our feet in mercy’s soil,
our hands open to justice,
ears attuned to the word of life,
and we no longer resemble
driftwood beached on the shore,
but are rooted like oaks
in the fields of hope,
anchored in that love
which does not turn
with every wind which comes along.
this is growth, full growth
into that adulthood of faith
as we realize where to shelter
even as the waters may rise.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

New Years Day prayer

Whisperer of light on that first morning,
as the old year slips behind us
and the new one opens like a book
filled with empty pages,
we offer our hands and hearts to you.
Gather up the broken pieces of our dreams,
our lives, our longings which we still carry
and craft them into a mosaic of hope
we can hang on our walls to see each morning.
As this new day, as this new year begins,
continue to shape us from the dust
of your grace and love.

You stepped out of eternity
into particular moments in time,
Word made flesh for us,
walking our lonely streets,
tasting our bitter tears,
calling us to follow when
we would rather stay stuck.
As this new day, as this new year begins,
give us the grace to love more deeply,
the freedom to forgive more hopefully,
the courage to seek justice more fiercely,
and the tenacity to follow you
into the open-ended days awaiting us.

Breath filled with peace and
Fire blazing for those forgotten,
move over us as we prepare
for the challenges, the questions,
the disappointments, the wonders
which lie before us in God’s future.
As this new day, as this new year begins,
dispel our fears with winds of courage,
kindle hope in our apathetic lives,
challenge us to be more just,
and soften our cruel nature.

As you hold our past in your mercy.
as you are faithful at this moment,
as you fill our tomorrows with promise,
God in Community, Holy in One,
may our lives be a prayer
which is heard by all
in our words of kindness,
written on the world in justice,
and sung in love to you. Amen.

© 2025 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman