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 

October 4th

“Let us know, let us press on to know the Lord;
   his appearing is as sure as the dawn;
he will come to us like the showers,
   like the spring rains that water the earth." Hosea 6:3

it feels like a house filled
with too many angry voices,
too many alarms and CCTV,
too many reasons for fear.
so, in this world, perhaps
faith is simply the courage
to keep turning toward God—
not because everything is clear
but because the sun keeps rising.
not because all wounds are mended
but because rain still nourishes thirsty ground.
not because we know what tomorrow brings,
but because God waits for us there.
so, teach us to press on,
Persistent God—
not with certainty
but complete trust,
not toward all the answers
but toward your grace.
and whenever we grow weary,
remind us that
your faithfulness is not a sunrise
we need to make sure happens,
but your Light which keeps rising,
that we might rise with it.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 3rd

“Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven;” Luke 6:37

really, Jesus?!
don’t you understand
how much we want
to judge others, to
put on those robes,
sit high above
all those knuckleheads
and look down our noses
before banging the gavel
and pronouncing sentence?
so delicious,
so wonderful,
such a gratifying experience.
and forgiveness?
that’s for suckers, isn’t it,
or for weak-kneed
lily-livered losers?
after all, who doesn’t like
getting into the face
of someone and letting them
know
exactly how we feel.
is it any wonder,
the rich and powerful
and their religious toadies
are trying to recraft you
into a more macho,
more confrontational,
more like us sort of God?

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 2nd

“My people consult a piece of wood, and their divining rod gives them oracles.” Hosea 4:12a

back then,
it was a piece of wood,
a stone, a statue of gold or silver,
while today
it is a celebrity, that headline,
maybe a poll, or that glowing screen—
all voices telling us exactly
what we already long to hear.
we ask these modern divining rods
for answers and then wonder
why we cannot hear God.
so maybe that old prophet
would advise us
to mute the anger,
to power down the device,
to quit asking the world
to tell us who we are,
and turn to the One
who does not need
to be programmed,
carved, sculpted, molded,
or supersized—
the God who speaks
in the voices of the forgotten
the God who sits
in the mess with us,
the God who refuses
to turn away from us,
the heart who always
loves us.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

October 1st

“Therefore the land mourns, and all who live in it languish; together with the wild animals and the birds of the air, even the fish of the sea are perishing.” Hosea 4:3

creation has slipped into sackcloth,
birds are dusted with ashes,
fishes mingle their tears with water,
animals wear black armbands—
all bearing the wounds we make.
for we take
without giving thanks,
we consume
without a hint of moderation,
we expend water and air,
land and resources, even people,
as if you were an eternal ATM,
O God, constantly replenishing
everything we want or need.
yet, you are the One through
whom all things were and
and in whom all things
can be made new.
so may the groaning of creation
become the words of our prayer
for repentance which makes us turn
from treating your good earth
as if it were completely disposable,
and our turning into acts of mercy
for your creatures we act as if
their lives do not matter
as much as our own,
and our acts into the holy work
of repairing what we have damaged.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 30th

“Praise the Lord!
   How good it is to sing praises to our God;
   for he is gracious, and a song of praise is fitting.” Psalm 147:1

one day it is that
golden oldie which brings back
memories as old as the song,
while at night it is that
earworm of a jingle which
we just can’t stop replaying.
it could be the gentle purring
of the cat next to us
or the soft, contented
thumping of the dog’s tail.
there is the classical melody
played by the wind as it
moves the leaves in trees
on a fall evening
and the cacophony
of pots and pans pulled out
of kitchen cabinets by
bored kids on a rainy day.
it is the last night
at the BBC Proms,
or it could be that student
playing a soft piece
on the saxophone as
their teacher is laid to rest.
praise is that multi-faceted
heirloom of which we
are heirs but for a moment.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 29th

and I will sow him for myself in the land. And I will have pity on Lo-ruhamah, and I will say to Lo-ammi, "You are my people"; and he shall say, "You are my God." Hosea 2:23

listen to what God has to say—
to those who are silenced:
you are my closest advisors,
the voices i turn to first.
to the transgender kids
who are bullied by politicians
and ultra-righteous prigs:
you are my Beloved,
I rejoice in you.
to the immigrants who
are turned away by fear:
there is always room
for you in my Community.
to all who bear
the bruises, the scars,
the wounds, the memories
inflicted by the cruel who
claim to care for all:
I wrap you in the shawl
of grace, woven from the
threads of love and hope.
to all the forgotten, 
the vulnerable, the discounted,
the lost, the grieving, the lonely:
I am your God,
you are my people,
and always will be.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 28th

“From there I will give her her vineyards, and make the Valley of Achor a door of hope.” Hosea 2:15a

so many valleys—
where grief wears a path
through our hearts,
where hard news comes
far too often,
where we worry that
hope has packed
its moving van.
yet, God always manages
to plant gardens in that soil
we think will only yield tears,
in those trouble-filled hearts
which, by grace, become doors
opening to the forgotten.
so, may doors of hope
open in a child learning
to step out in trust,
in neighbors choosing
to listen and not shout,
in caregiver holding the hand
of the lonely,
in hands which reach over
those walls we build
to keep others out, to welcome
them to our community.
perhaps hope is nothing more
than the door God opens
in the troubled valleys of life,
inviting us to walk through
together.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 27th

"'The kingdom of heaven is like . . .'" Matthew 13:44a

the restaurant where there
are no reserved seats
and the hungry do not
need to prove they deserve a table.
the stranger who sees someone
standing alone at a gathering
and invites them to join
the conversation.
the streets where doors
are left unlocked because
neighbors know they are responsible
for the safety of others.
the politician who knows
that power is not a throne
but a towel and basin.
every faith community which asks
‘who is missing?’ and not
who belongs here?’
the bread which is broken
not hoarded and the grace
shared before it is earned.
enemies who realize that
the other has a face, a story,
a struggle, a name.
God’s Beloved Community
breaks through the cracks
of our world—
wherever mercy has the last word,
justice welcomes the forgotten,
love makes up the spare room,
for it does not come
with trumpets and lightning
but when we actually live
as if it is already here.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 26th

“O God, you are my God, I seek you,
   my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
   as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.” Psalm 63:1

we thirst, our God—
in streets where weariness
is the way of life,
homes where silence
speaks instead of words,
hearts shriveled by grief,
loneliness, all those headlines
which make hope despair.
so many wells around us,
yet we are parched.
our fingers dance over
our devices for answers,
we go to all the sales on comfort,
we scream our truths
across the abysses—
all the while wondering why
our souls are death valleys.
but maybe—
our thirst itself might become
prayers where you meet us,
pouring the water of life
into those hidden cracks,
until our weary souls
remember—
you never mean for us
to live without you.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 25th

"By the rivers of Babylon— there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion." Psalm 137:1

there are rivers
found on no maps—
trickling down hospital corridors,
flowing with tears,
flooding refugee camps,
rushing through neighborhoods
where sirens are the lullabies
children hear each night.
there are those rivers
on which float

the names of
all those we have lost,
the flotsam and jetsam of dreams,
the familiar places we no longer
can call home.
perhaps this is where
faith can begin—
not building bridges
over the sorrows of others,
but by sitting on the banks
beside them in silence,
listening to the waters,
daring to weep
as their tears flow.
for God
has never tried to dam
our rivers of tears,
but simply slips into
the waters to be with us

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 24th

“So the word of the Lord grew mightily and prevailed.” Acts 19:20

sometimes
your word is like a
massive oak tree whose
roots sink deep within us,
or again, like those puffs
from a dandelion which float
and dance in the air.
sometimes
your word is that sharp rebuke
our partner offers when
we think we can get away
with all sorts of foolishness,
or again, that soft whisper
in the middle of the night,
‘it’s okay, don’t be scared.
i am here beside you.’
sometimes
your word comes in those
ponderous, theological phrases
of the preacher strutting their stuff,
or again, in silly songs
children make up on the swings
in the playground
as we walk by with our dog.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 23rd

He entered the synagogue and for three months spoke out boldly, and argued persuasively about the kingdom of God. Acts 19:8

oh, but we are good when
it comes to God’s Beloved Community!
we preach about it,
sing about it, and love
to debate it,
even trading potshots over it.
but it doesn’t show up
because of the right words—
but when a child is included
and not ignored;
when the struggling
are given a hand, not a label;
when we share a meal
with the hungry, without ever
wondering what poor choices they made;
when strangers are welcomed
as neighbors without us
asking where they came from;
when all those whose nametags
read ‘them’ become part
of us.
after all,
it is not based on our beliefs,
it is rooted in what our love
dares us to do in stepping
outside our comfort zone
into God’s vision for humanity.
because,
whether we believe it or not,
even like it or not,
Jesus does not call us
to win arguments
about the Beloved Community,
but simply to become
its living proof.

(c) 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 22nd

"I call upon you, O Lord; come quickly to me;
   give ear to my voice when I call to you." Psalm 141:1

we sit by the window

with the lamp illuminating

the page we keep reading

and re-reading because 

we keep glancing down the road,

wondering if, like the prodigal,

we might see you coming,

so we can rush out to throw

our arms around you and 

begin to tell you all that has

been happening to us, all

the worries which weigh us down,

all the fears which stalk us,

every word we dare not utter

to anyone else but you.

and all the while, you sit

in the shadowed corner,

a cup of tea warming your hands,

wondering if we will ever notice

that you are not the one 

in this strange relationship

who has drifted away.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 21st

"And the crowds asked him, 'What then should we do?'" Luke 3:10

in the midst of the crowd at the rally,
inspired by the impassioned rhetoric
of the speakers, we loudly proclaim
our commitment to speaking the truth,
but we go home, and there is the person
we have known for decades as not
just a neighbor, but also a friend, and
they are posting a sign in their yard
with a message which breaks our heart.
and now,
what shall we do?
remain silent, not wanting to hurt
this relationship, this person, this
soul we have always known to be
as good and gentle as our very own?
simply post our own sign, hoping
that might serve as a statement
of honest differences of opinion?
or shall we take that hesitant
first step, our hand open wide
in peace and trust, hoping that
relationships are stronger than rhetoric,
that common bonds are uncommonly strong,
that truth can be found in hearts
which care more for others
then slogans on signs in two yards?

(c) Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @Thom-Shuman

September 20th

“Be doers of the word, and not merely hearers who deceive themselves.” James 1:22

sorry, folks,
but the world has had
more than enough of our words.
we sing about grace,
while refusing to share it
with any who offend us.
we protest loudly for justice,
but build high walls around
our comfort zones.
sermon after sermon
speaks about compassion
and we drive past the wounded
as we travel home.
we celebrate inclusion with
flags, hymns, prayers, signs
but there is always someone
we won’t let into our circle.
so remember—
grace must serve meals,
mercy must walk our towns,
love must cross boundaries.
otherwise, the gospel becomes
only something we say, while
the broken, the forgotten,
the lonely, the silenced,
wait desperately for someone,
any one (!) to do the Word.

© 2026 Thom M. Shuman

Venmo: @ThomShuman