September 3rd

"where then is my hope?
   Who will see my hope?" Job 17:15

it is there, folks.
in the classmates
who sit with the ones
everyone else mocks,
in that silly dog
who thinks every stranger
needs a sloppy kiss,
in the grandfather
explaining to the one
who will inherit his tools
how to best use them,

in every person who plants

seeds of grace, kindness,

justice, and peace in 

that garbage dump called

social media,
in the teacher who refuses
to believe that the new child
in her class deserves
the passed-on label ‘difficult’—
hope is there, folks,
every place
every day
every moment
every chance
every person

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

September 2nd

“my transgression would be sealed up in a bag, and you would cover over my iniquity.” Job 14:17

that person over there
looks like you would need
a bag from a vacuum
for all their foolish mistakes.
and the one next door
probably requires one of those
33-gallon heavy duty trash bags.
while ours, of course, would only
take the smallest zipper bag.
but lest we forget,
God doesn’t seem interested
in hiding our sins
where we can pretend
they never happened.
yet, the good news is that
our grudges, those words
we wish we had never said,
those small betrayals which
seemed to expand overnight
are gathered up, all of it,
all of us, gathered, held,
in God’s hands—
and, somehow,
they are not held
against us
forever.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

September 1st

“Will you speak falsely for God, and speak deceitfully for him?” Job 13:7

where is the Job
for these times, when we
invoke God as if
hatred were holy,
cruelty were courage
fear was the new faith?
where is the voice
we need to hear
in these days,
as people try to wrap violence
in the garments of grace
and claim that our enemies
are the ones God despises as well?
perhaps faith, the faith we need
takes place when we close our mouths
long enough to let God speak
in the cry of the vulnerable,
the outsider in the community,
the frightened children—
and if we dare to listen,
we might realize that if
our faith needs hatred
to prove we are holy,
it may not be God
we keep defending.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

August 31st

“I am a laughingstock to my friends; I, who called upon God and he answered me, a just and blameless man, I am a laughingstock.” Job 12:4

ah, Job, you knew
what it was like to speak truth
and hear laughter instead of listening.
we know it as well these days—
empathy being mocked as weakness,
kindness seen as naïve,
when cries for justice are dismissed
even before they are heard.
Still, Job, you remind us
that being ridiculed
does not diminish truth.
so may we not be too eager
to offer the easy laugh,
to make quick judgments,
to dismiss others from
the comfort of our certainty—
but let us listen,
especially to those whose pain
makes us squirm.
for it just might be
that the voice we laugh away
is the one God is using
to snap us out of our
self-perceived blamelessness.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

August 30th

“You will lie down, and no one will make you afraid; many will entreat your favor.” Job 11:19

told whom to fear,
what to be afraid of,
who is coming after us,
who we must blame,
has become our new currency—
shared from screen to screen,
screed to screed,
street to street.
but if we dare to dig beneath
the bitterness and sound bites,
the outrage and never-ending quarrels,
we might just hear that ancient promise—
‘you will lie down
and no one can make you afraid.’
not because the world has shouted
‘olly, olly, oxen free,’
or that justice no longer matters,
but that we don’t give fear power
over how we choose to live.
this morning, every morning
this day, every day,
this night, every night
ay fear not have the last word,
as we live in courage,
we give away compassion,
we share in the quiet conviction
that we belong to one another—
and that God’s grace
is still wider than our fear.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

August 29th

 "'Why did you bring me forth from the womb? Would that I had died before any eye had seen me,'" Job 10:18

if you think i am good at complaining,

it's because i learned from the best.

those ancestors whose photos have

faded over the years until they look

like the dirt of Sinai they carried on

their sandals and clothes for decades.

it's from listening to the stories 

that the disciples forgot to redact

from the good news books 

they were so quick to self-publish,

with those clueless comments 

when they couldn't understand 

those simple, everyday stories you told,

or those knuckleheaded challenges

they threw in your face when you

let slip that your journey was going

to end with you crossing over into

a different sort of promised land.

so,

when i whine (and i will)

when i grumble (too many times)

when i murmur under my breath

thinking you can't read my lips,

be as patient, as forgiving,

as willing to stick with me 

like you were with all those 

whose words i am just repeating

(even though i think they are brand new).

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 28th

 "'If he would take his rod away from me, and not let dread of him terrify me, then I would speak without fear of him, for I know I am not what I am thought to be.'" Job 9:34-35

it was not out of faith
i began to follow you

but out of pure fear, of

all those terrible things 

dumped on me by folks

who crafted you out of the 

monsters of their own ids

and the preachers who were

simply echoing what they heard

sitting on those same hard pews

which became warmer with every word.

they still show up in the moments

when i wake up to stare into 

the shadowed future i cannot see,

those ghosts of worship past,

walking, watching, whispering.

but then,

i glance over and notice 

that rod which a young carpenter 

repurposed into a yoke

so we could journey together, 

i see you sitting in the corner,

draped in the warm shawl of grace

knitted by your gentle Spirit, just

waiting for me to listen to your

deepest hopes for me.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 27th

“He will yet fill your mouth with laughter, and your lips with shouts of joy. Those who hate you will be clothed with shame, and the tent of the wicked will be no more." Job 8:21-22

sorrow takes up far
too much room and delight
is like the stranger at our door,
so perhaps it is time
to go back to school
and relearn how to speak joy
once again for, as Job reminds us,
God remembers our laughter
and will let it slip back into our lives—
quiet as a friend’s surprising kindness,
gentle as sunlight tiptoeing
along the kitchen floor,
graceful as the song
which reminds us of
a treasured memory,
the soft moment when
when remember we are still here.
which might be all we need--
leaving the space
for laughter to slip in ,
learning to trust the God
who cradles our tears
longs to put a smile
back on our faces.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo:@Thom-Shuman

August 26th

“If I sin, what do I do to you, you watcher of humanity? Why have you made me your target? Why have I become a burden to you?” Job 7:20

blessed be Job who,
whether foolishly or courageously,
dares to ask God that question
we are too afraid to speak:
‘do we burden you, Holy One?’
and perhaps, in that moment,
grace begins—
not in the pause which just sits there,
but in the realization that
God is not afraid of the question.
for grace does not tell us
to stop asking questions,
it whispers of burdens shared,
reminding us that even when
we think God is not there,
when our prayers feel like
rocks skipped across ponds
until they sink,
God’s heart always turns
toward us, for God loves us
when we are shattered,
when we are filled with rage,
when all we can do is ask why—
which may be all we need
in such moments, to trust
God has not let go of us.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 25th

"When many of his disciples heard it, they said, 'This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?'" John 6:60

on a scale of 1 to 10
with 10 being how much
we can love our selves,
loving you is (we hope) 7.5,
loving our neighbors 5.6
(on really good days), but
loving our enemies . . .
does a negative number count?
and while we might manage
a $10 weekly pledge on a
pretty regular basis, and if
we make it big in life, we
can probably stretch to a tithe,
are you serious or just delirious
about giving away everything?
but then, as we grow older,
if we pay attention to all the
broken promises, the hollow words
of everyone around us, maybe
we can finally grasp the truth
that your words, your uncomfortable
and challenging and (yes) dangerous
words
are those which give us the life we
need.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 24th

"O Lord, all my longing is known to you;
   my sighing is not hidden from you." Psalm 38:9

convinced they know me
so well, they easily accept
those answers of how fine
i am doing, or that life is
simply going along swimmingly.
but i have become so adept
at keeping secret what is
lodged in my heart, i am
so cautious in letting anyone
get near my soul, for fear
they would hear the rattling
of the skeletons which are
not bones and the whispers
of ghosts which abide in me.
yet,
like an oyster farmer who knows
that there is a pearl of grace
deep within my crusty shell,
like a teacher who realizes
that the smiling child who never
says anything in class has
stories which will melt one's heart,
you calmly, patiently, persistently
wait, until we are ready to open up.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 23rd

"If one ventures a word with you, will you be offended? But who can keep from speaking?” Job 4:2

that old question from a dusty book
seems strangely modern, doesn’t it?
for in this moment when
almost any word can hurt,
any disagreement becomes
a declaration of war,
and uncomfortable truths
are just offenses waiting to happen,
we tend to hesitate.
but perhaps we just need to
speak – but gently as we can,
listen – as deeply as we can,
and when someone
(especially a friend) 

says something
we don’t want to hear,
leave some room for grace.
because usually,
the most loving thing
we dare offer to another
is not total agreement,
but the courage
to speak the truth
and the humility to hear
without getting all bent
out of shape.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 22nd

“For my sighing comes like my bread, and my groanings are poured out like water.” Job 3:24

grief can have a way
of becoming our daily bread—
sighs we cannot put down,
memories we cannot pretend away,
words we begin to speak aloud
into that all too familiar silence.
the glimpse of that chair
gently holding absence,
those towels still hanging
on the rack in their bathroom,
the reading glasses on that
unfinished book on the nightstand—
and tears groan from our eyes.
perhaps
when we think we need
to keep putting up a brave front
or force a smile as we
mover through the days,
we can simply bring our grief
into the heart of God,
where even the most silent
of sighs become prayers
God understands
all too well.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 21st

“They sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great.” Job 2:13

we don’t always need
the solution to every problem,
or to come up with the
perfect answer,
do the right thing, or
even try to fill pauses
with words which only
amplify the silence.
sometimes
when a friend is going
through a patch so rough
it defies explanations,
or too deep to fill
with multitudes of platitudes,
or even too holy
for us to dare touch,
in that space, maybe
all we can do is
sit in the dust with them,
letting our presence whisper—
‘you are not alone.’
no making everything better,
no rushing to the next step,
no advice we read somewhere.
simply
being there
until the silence
is not so lonely.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 20th

“Transgression speaks to the wicked
    deep in their hearts;
there is no fear of God
    before their eyes.” Psalm 36:1

we like to believe
that these words do not
speak about us at all
but
when
we close our eyes
and see the demons
prancing in our minds,
when
we look into our souls
withered by memes and posts,
when 

we dare to walk down 

into the basement
of our hearts where we keep
evil locked in storage,
when
we let those words of anger
swirl in our mouths
like the finest of whines,
when 

we take a forkful
of bitterness which tastes
so good we want
others to try a bite,
when

we revel in the cruelty
we could so easily toss
another’s way—
we know,
oh yes, we know
that truth which seems
ancient is still
fresh as this moment.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 19th

 

“There are many who say,
    ‘O that we might see
     some good!
Let the light of your face
     shine on us, O LORD!’" Psalm 4:6

the aide who
tenderly cares for
the medically
fragile student;

the taxi drivers
who work extra
shifts,
their tips going
to a co-worker's
cancer fund;

the young people
who spend their
gap year
with the families
living in poverty

rather than following

a singer around the world,

your face shines
through so many
people!

© Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 18th

“And Saul approved of their killing him.” Acts 8:1

let us be clear—
our hands are clean
for we have not picked
up any weapon and actually
caused the death of another.
but in our apathetic complicity
in the face of senseless wars
in which lives are lost
without any apparent remorse,
in our silence
when transgender kids
are mocked and bullied,
in giving up
reaching out to
elected officials because
they never respond,
in simply getting angry
at all the posts/memes/reels
showing all the cruelty,
hate, isms in the world
rather than challenging
the systemic causes—
in truth,
we approve slowly 

killing our souls.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 17th

"Praise the Lord! Praise the name of the Lord;
   give praise, O servants of the Lord,
you that stand in the house of the Lord,
   in the courts of the house of our God." Psalm 135:1-2

you nervous parents as
leg jiggling kids get on the bus,
you teachers lining the walks
to cheer them a welcome,
join hands in a circle of joy.
you lifelong farmers and
weekend gardeners, you
lawn care workers and
farmers markets shoppers,
dance jigs in the rain after
weeks of drought conditions.
you who sit by the beds of
strangers in hospital rooms
who don't know who you
are but are in your care,
you first responders and
street pastors who rush
to gather up the fallen,
the forgotten, the damaged,
and the delusional,
sing soft dirges of hope
in the small hours of night.
everyone, everywhere,
wherever God is and
however God is found,
sing from your hearts!

© Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 16th

Examine yourselves to see whether you are living in the faith. Test yourselves. Do you not realize that Jesus Christ is in you?--unless, indeed, you fail to meet the test! 2 Corinthians 13:5

we think we
need to show how
rigid we can be,
but the final
answer is compassion;
we memorize the
formula which conclusively
proves the errors of everybody,
but forgiveness is
like pi—
it goes on and on,
beyond what we can measure;
we can write a
lengthy essay on judgment,
but the only word
on the spelling test?
love.

perhaps it is not about
whether we know
all the right answers,
but whether Christ
is alive in us.
so look within.
test your heart.
check the margins
for mercy,
the footnotes
for grace,
the places where
compassion has been
written into the ordinary.
and if you discover
you haven't passed—

remember:
the teacher
is still sitting
beside you,
patiently
writing
love
at the top
of the page.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

August 15th

“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

we wait, don’t we,
beside those still waters
that never seem to move—
the hatred which has
no foundation in reality,
the cruelty we so easily excuse,
the polarization we put on
each day as if battle armor,
those mean-spirited words
we hurl into the world
under the guise of truth-telling.
we wait, don’t we—
because healing frightens us
far more than those grievances
which are part of our personality.
we wait, don’t we—
because answering the
simple question means
taking up our mat,
walking away from all
those places we hurt others.
well?
do we really want to?
Jesus is still waiting
for our answer.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman