as close as (John 20:19-31)

in these moments
especially in these moments
we suddenly realize how
much we miss the human
touch (yes, even us introverts), so
you invite us to reach out
and touch 
your wholeness offered
for our brokenness,
your healing given
for our hopelessness,
your love poured out
for our loneliness

when we put on masks
and need to stand 
as far away as we can
from one another, you
come and breath 
peace on us, so we
might find serenity in
all the confusion, so we
might find comfort in
the midst of all the uncertainty.

(c) 2020 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 23 for these times

God is the health care folk
all around us:
encouraging us to stay home;
reminding us to wash our hands
so we can help others be safe;
teaching us how to be mindful
and watch over ourselves and others.

even as we shelter in place,
we will not give in to fear,
for God is with us,
in those who call us and care for us,
in those who shop for us,
and those who treat us.

around a lonely table,
in a houseful of family,
in a hospital with strangers,
God feeds us with grace,
pouring out hope upon us,
filling us with peace in sleepless night.
i know, without any doubt,
that God's gentleness and compassion
are walking right beside us,
showing us the way home
to the One who holds us 
in Love's Heart forever.

(c) 2020 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 95

gospel, country, hip hop,

rock and roll, r & b, classical:

let every genre raise a song

to you, O God.

we will come jumping and jiving

into your living room, clapping

our hands in time to our songs:

for you are beyond words,

and music is the common

tongue to speak of you!

you cradle canyons in your hands

and shape Everests from dust,

you float islands like rafts

across the oceans of the world.

we come running to jump up

in your lap, and laugh as

you bounce us on your knees,

and then sit on the floor

as we play marbles together,

and you listen to our silly jokes.

you ask us to pay attention, and

oops!

we run off, slamming our doors

as hard as we can as if to test

how far your patience stretches.

but

if we put our ears

up to the doors and listen

very carefully, we might just hear

your heart beating slowly,

hoping we would come out

and sit at your feet to hear

your stories of grace

© 2020 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 121

our eyes cast down onto

sheol’s road, you tip up

our chins so we can see hope

leaping over the horizon,

running our way through

creation’s flowery fields.

you help us to stay steady

on our feet in the gusts of life;

we won’t catch you daydreaming

you hold us, and all your children

tight to your heart, refusing

to nod off no matter how weary.

you are our babysitter, our guardian;

you are a shady oak on a hot day,

cooling us with sweet lemonade,

showing us how to use a telescope

to explore the moon each night.

you refuse to let the malicious

to gain power over us;

you wrap us in your arms

when we tremble with fear.

whether we are relaxing at home,

running errands, facing down bullies,

trying to stand up to injustice –

wherever, whenever; here, there;

yesterday, today, tomorrow

you are

with us, beside us, for us

© 2020 Thom M. Shuman  

canticle 32

i wish it was easier

to believe that you wipe

all my foolishness off the slate,

that you don’t hold a grudge

but pour out grace on me.

yet, when i hold it all in,

when i am not willing

to sit down at the table

and share my dumb mistakes,

well,

i feel so empty, so lost,

my soul is so parched

as if i have been in a desert.

but when i sit across from you,

rubbing my fingers in circles

on the tabletop, hoping the server

will come by with more tea;

when i clear my throat, start

to say something, stop,

start over again and, in a rush,

let the words slide over to your side,

you smile, grin, begin to chuckle,

break out into a hearty laugh and,

picking up the check, say,

‘let’s get out of here and

get on with living.’

we go out into the bright sunshine

where i start grabbing everyone

to let them know that, in you,

they find that haven of hope,

they find that island in an ocean of fears,

they find that shady tree on hot days,

they find the one they’ve been longing

to open their hearts so they might be mended.

if we listen carefully, if we write it down,

if we watch carefully, we will discover

that the mystery is really simple to solve –

quit insisting on our own way,

stop trying to pull you to follow us,

let go of all that anger than weighs us down,

and if we do, why

all that grumpiness, all those worries,

all those ‘what will happen if God . . .’

are washed away by those loving waters

of grace, hope, joy, and wonder

and we can holler our hearts out,

we can skip behind you, holding hands

with all the other mended souls,

glad that we finally opened our mouths

and heard your loving voice in our ears.

© 2020 Thom M. Shuman  

canticle 99

no single word describes you,

holiness of our hearts:

you sit on the floor playing jacks,

you walk the sidelines

as we run up and down creation’s pitch,

you could boss us around,

but chose to learn how to crawl

on your hands and knees just like us,

you join in the silly jingles

we make up to give you thanks.

you gave visions to Jeremiah

and spoke to Elijah in a still, small voice.

you taught Miriam how to dance

and sang backup for Hannah and Mary.

you listened to every voice,

every heartbreak, every hope

from those in Eden to this very moment.

on mountaintops and in clouds,

cooking breakfast on a beach

and sleeping in the back of a boat,

you taught us your dreams,

you showed us how to care for others.

you lean over to hear our souls,

you wipe every mistake we make

off the whiteboard of life.

you step between us

and the bullies who would taunt

us until we turn and run.

we sing your praises over and over,

in churches and on playgrounds,

in grocery stores and in classrooms,

in museums and malls, on boats and bicycles,

for everywhere we are, wherever we are,

we are standing on holy ground

holding tight to your hand.

© 2020 Thom M. Shuman

canticle 2

all you conspiracy theorists,

all you worriers stockpiling supplies,

all you politicos claiming absolute everything,

all those convinced that only losers

wrap themselves in grace, hope, peace –

God is doubled-up in laughter,

wiping tears from their eyes,

ready to set all those folks straight,

to knock them off their narcissism:

‘look for my Beloveds,

my children,

who know my heart,

who share my soul,

they are transforming weapons

into musical instruments,

taking day-old bread

to make sandwiches for hungry kids’

knock down walls

to build shelters for rough sleepers.”

pay attention – you know-it-alls:

let your callous souls

be transfigured by compassion,

your bullying words

be turned into love’s language,

your life-destroying anger

become comfort for the broken.

then,

you will find new life

in my heart

© 2020 Thom M. Shuman

terrific Tuesday

except for the single parent
looking for that third job
to put food on the table;
except for those kids
who will be bullied by classmates
whose parents, preachers, and
political heroes tell them
that it is okay to treat others
in those ways;
except for that elder adult
who is trying to figure out
how to pay for medicine;
except for the people
trying to push water
out of their flooded homes,
businesses, schools;
except for that person
going in for (yet) another
round of chemo and radiation;
except for all those we
too often never notice,
it really is terrific Tuesday,
isn't it!?!

(c) 2020 Thom M. Shuman