reward (Matthew 5:38-48)

our reward
         for
   being strong (and
      foolish) enough
   to try living your
            way?

toothless,
      we can sit down
   at your Table
         to let those
         we don't like
   spoon feed us with
      your grace;

cloakless,
      we can walk
   through the streets
         of the kingdom,
      warmed by your love
   on the coldest days;

foot weary,
      we dip them
   in the cool waters
         of life,
   shaking them dry
   and slipping them
            into the
            soft slippers
      spun of service;

empty-pocketed,
      we have simply
            made room
            for all those
         gifts
   we beg from you (which
      you share without
              any
         hesitation)

(c) 2014 Thom M. Shuman

fulfillment (Matthew 5:13-16)

"you are
the methylchloroisothiazolinone
   of the earth,"
         just doesn't have
      the same oomph,
            does it?
so
may we be
         the jalapenos
      in a world content
        with banality;
         the zest
      that stings minds
            focused
   only on themselves;
         the tartness
       that awakens mouths
            which speak
                  only
       platitudes.

"you are
the LED of the world,'
         just doesn't
         seem to grab us,
            i'm afraid.

but
let us be
         the torch
      that shows the
            shadowed
      the way out of
   their troubles;
         the nightlight
      which comforts
            the fearful;
         the lighthouse
      which warns of
               dangers
         we all face.

then
      may all who are
      searching
               find
   that community,
         not necessarily
         on a hill,
      but in all the
            ordinary
   places and
         people
      around them.

(c) 2014 Thom M. Shuman

           

blessings (Matthew 5:1-12)

give me, O God, this day:

         humility,
   so i can see you in the
      most vulnerable;

         a cup
   to catch the tears
   of all who weep;

         an arm
   for the longanimous to
   cling to as they walk
      through life;

         a broken heart
   which can heal those
   who have harmed me;

         guilelessness
   which looks at the other
   and sees your beloved (not
      an object);

         friendship
   which embraces those
   we are taught to fear;

         hospitality
   which welcomes those
   who are ridiculed as
      they shadow you;

         words
   of hope, of comfort, of grace
   whispered in the ears
      of all who are slandered
      for your name.

(c) 2014 Thom M. Shuman

Thom

ideally (Isaiah 9:1-4)

we would carry
      the Light
   into the shadowed
            corners
         rather
   than sticking it all
   on a tree
      once a year;

we would
      distich
   ourselves to others,
         rather
   than piling on
             more
      than they can handle
           alone;

we would take
      all the ways and means
      in which we harm
         people (including
   those holier-than-thou
               shirts
      off our backs) and
         use it all
   as fuel to warm
   the lives of those
            we despise.

(c) 2014 Thom M. Shuman 

waiting, you waited (Psalm 40:1-3)

hearing my squawk
      of surprise
               and then
   my wails of
         wretchedness,
you came
      running,
   stopping at the
      crumbling edge;

you reached down
   and clasped my trembling
            hands,
   pulling me up
      out of the
      slimy clay that
            fought
         to hold on to
               me;

you unwrapped the towel
      from around your
                  waist,
   and setting me
   on your lap,
         you proceeded
         to wipe off all
      the muddy traces
      of my mistakes,
   drying my feet off
            toe by toe,

all the while
             chuckling,
      and
         asking me,
   'why do you keep
   getting into these
                messes?'

(c) 2014 Thom M. Shuman

Thom

still waters (Baptism of the Lord)

like water skimmers,
we simply glide along
the smooth facade of our lives,
till you come running up,
diving right in,
coming up with rivulets
caressing your big grin,
as you splash water
in our eyes so we can
see;

we drift along
just below the surface,
occasionally coming up for air,
hoping you cannot spy us
hiding in the shadowed pools,
but you step in
with your waders on,
tying the special fly
the Spirit made for you,
casting, casting, casting,
again and again,
until we take that first bite
of your grace
and we are hooked;

throwing caution to the wind,
you drive out onto our frozen souls,
setting up the shack,
chipping through the ice,
dropping your line in the hole,
patiently waiting
(while you pass the bread
and bottle around
with your two buddies)
to pull us into
the warmth of your heart.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

edge-y (Advent 2-A)

at the river's edge, we
      rub elbows with the
      piously righteous,
   jostling for the best
   position to hear
         the camel-coated, 
             slicked-hair,
             bow-tied
   evangelist
      with his honey-drenched
                words;

at the river's edge, they
            gather,
   the bear wanting to teach
         his cubs to fish,
   the cow sipping a cool
           drink,
   the ewe and lambs
   keeping a wary eye
      on the wolf pack
      playing on the
         sandbar;

ar the river's edge, we
            wait
   for you
         to take off
         your dusty sandals,
      and jump in
      feet first
   drenching us with
            Spirit's
        new life.

(c) 2013 Thom M. Shuman

oxymoron (Reign of Christ/Christ the King - C)

King of kings
Lord of lords
Glory Hallelujah!

    really?

are these word just
a neat, peppy praise song,
fun to sing
      but empty of meaning?

no kings around here
that i know of,
      but a lot of politicians
      who act as if folks
            are agin' 'em
   if you are not with them;

no lords around here
         except those who
         think they can
         lord it over everyone else,
   but debt and worry and fear
   control my life;

glory seems to be
      in short supply these
                      days,
   and hallelujahs
      don't seem to mean much
           to most folks;

but you

      you are a mystery solved
      in the impossibilities
               of life;
      an enigma wrapped
               in wonder;
      a majesty born
               in humility;
      a life blossoming
               out of death.

and you

      you i could follow
   forever.

(c) 2013 Thom M. Shuman

shake, rattle, and roll (Haggai 1:15b-2:9)

shake the heavens, the earth,
   the sea, the dry lands -
            shake them until
            your peace covers
      creation like a carpet
                of autumn leaves,
         and your hope burns
                    bright
  in the night skies of our
                    lives;

rattle the cages
      of those churches
   who are locked into
         always doing
      the same thing over
           and over and over
      (and never getting it right),
          always being trapped
          in that mythical
                  past, never able
   to take a step
      forward;

push the denominations
off their self-imposed
             pedestals,
      so they can roll
      down the hill,
   splashing into that pool
          of wonder,
       to emerge dripping
                 wet
             with your
                joy.

but me?

just nudge me gently
   so i can turn over
   and go back to sleep,
              content
      under the warm quilt
      of
         complacency.

(c) 2013 Thom M. Shuman

sycamore street (Luke 19:1-10)

when the ragtagged fellow
         came by with his
         empty cup held out,
   looking for a cool drink
   on the hottest day of the year,
               i turned on
               the hose very slowly
      so he could get
      a few drips;

walking by the volunteer
         standing by the red kettle
         and ringing the handbell,
   i reached in my pocket
   and dropped a shiny coin
      listening as it clinked
      against the other change;

as the plate
               passes
      down the pew
      toward me, i pull
   out my wallet
         and pour
         a wee dram
            for God;

a drip
      a drop
            a dram
   a dollop of generosity
   here and there . . .

if i'm not careful
all my possessions
will dribble away
                 and i'll end up
                 like poor Zach
   down the street.

(c) 2013 Thom M. Shuman

anathoth (Jeremiah 32:1-3a, 6-15)

hope is

the pool of cool
            water
   found on the driest,
      hardest days of
      the journey, where
   i can be refreshed
         with life;

the needle and thread
            held gently
         in your fingers,
   as you cradled me
   on your lap
      gently stitching
               my soul
      back together;

the parcel in the
               kingdom
   i purchased when
   i said 'yes' all those
            years ago,
      and no matter
      how many times
      i have lived
                  'no'
         since then,
   the deed is still kept
         safely deposited
         in your heart;

the smell of the warm
                  bread
         just out of the
      oven and placed on
      the table set with glory,
            telling me
   you have been waiting   
                 for me
         to come home

hope
        simply

is . . .

(c) 2013 Thom M. Shuman

the coin (Luke 15:8-10)

the world,
in a dither (as
            always)
    dumps out her purse,
    trying to find the car keys
        & the piece of paper
        with the estate sale's
                    address,
never noticing
    as i fall to the floor,
    rolling across the hardwood past
        the dozing cat (who barely
                twitches a whisker)
    until i end up tangled
        in the clump of dog hair
            curled under the chair;

you come along,
lifting the cushions
    from the sofa and loveseat,
        sticking your fingers
        into the crevices at
            the sides and back;
empty-handed,
you gaze around the room,
                suddenly
        grabbing the yardstick,
    you sweep back
    and forth under the chair
            to recover me;
    rubbing off the dirt,
touching up the nicks
        till i shine,
warming me in your
            hand, you whisper
    'i know
        exactly how to use you,'

going to the front door
    you give me away
        to the young man
        standing on the porch,
    who is trying to come
            up with the
        cost of a bus ticket
                    home

to his father.

(c) 2010 Thom M. Shuman

capernaum (Luke 7:1-10)

in the child
            sleeping at
   the shelter,
  dreaming of a job for
       her dad
     and an apartment
         for her family. . .

in the mother
            helping
      her son with his
         homework
               so he can pass
               the entrance exam
            for the private school
      her third job will pay
            for . . .

in the senior
            who gets up
         in the middle of the
      night,
               to change the
            wet bedding of
         his alzheimered wife,
      believing she will
                         (finally)
                  remember his name
               at
                     breakfast . . .

we encounter that
         faith
      we thought we would
   never
               find
               again.

(c) Thom M. Shuman

a prayer for Moore, Oklahoma

O God, hear our prayers:

for teachers
   who became tornado shelters
   as they covered their children
          with their bodies;

of parents
   whose hearts shattered
   at the sight of the bearer
   of bad news;

for children
   whose last image
   was that of a beloved
               playmate,
      before they saw
      your weeping face;

for rescuers,responders, searchers
   whose grief must
   be left at home
   until their work
                  is done;

for families
   whose earthly goods
   consist of
      a picture in a
             broken frame,
      a half-torn letter,
      a broken kitchen chair;

for all
   whose beloved community
   has now become that
             shadowed valley
             of loss;

for all your people,
O God,
      hear our prayers.

(c) 2013  Thom M. Shuman

maybe (John 17:21)

we would be one

if that place
across the street
   would stop braggin'
   about all its
              missions;

if those big box
        entertainmentplexs
      would realize
      how serious worship
           must be;

if others
      would recognize
    that certain doctrines
         just can't be
         compromised;

if everyone
      would just stop
            fighting
        over the questions
        we already have
               answered.

we could be one
                if
       it wasn't for
  us.

(c) 2013 Thom M. Shuman

almost (Easter 6-C)

it almost didn't happen:
   every door was slammed
                in our faces,
   every road became more
                 and more
              potholed,
   the shadows chased us down
                 each alley
         until we hit the wall,
      then
             you put on your hardhat,
             unfolded the blueprints,
             rolled up your sleeves,
         and built that city
         which is open to everyone;

it almost didn't happen:
   your bed was unslept in,
            empty hangers in
                  the closet,
      your laptop and cell phone
            left on the desk,
   and the house echoed with
                the emptiness
                of our hearts,
      then
            the doorbell rang,
         and when we opened the door,
            the Babysitter stood there,
       a big smile on her face,
       suitcases full of peace
                at her side,
         and gathering up our
                           fears
            she took them out to
                     the curb
          for the trash pickup
          scheduled next morning.

(c) 2013 Thom M. Shuman

marching orders (John 13:31-35)

i could step
      over the homeless
               woman
      sleeping on the
                  sidewalk,
         or i could
   lift her to her
   feet, embracing her as my
               sister,
      as you have . . .

i could continue
   to carry that grudge
         in my heart, letting
      it rub blisters
      all over my soul,
         or i could
   forgive that person
   who gave it to me so
                  long ago,
      as you have . . .

i could keep
            a list
         of all those who
         step out of line, not
      heeding all the
                 rules
      carved into stone
                 weathered
            by time,
         or i could
   invite everyone to join
                      hands,
      dancing in that circle
      where all are welcome
               just as the are,
        
as you have . . .

(c) 2013 Thom M. Shuman

The Lord is (Psalm 23)

The Lord is a first responder
    who runs towards the blast
    not away from it;

the Lord is a trauma nurse
    who is in her car in the parking lot
    ready to go home after her shift,
    but goes back in when she sees
    the ambulances arrive;

the Lord is employees
    who turn their restaurant
    into a shelter for the injured
    and frightened;

the Lord is a mother
    who makes sure her home
    is secure and then checks
    on her neighbors;

the Lord is a father
    who comforts his children
    while his own fears
    assail him . . .

in the darkest of valleys,
   the Lord is
   always with us.

© 2013 Thom M. Shuman

meanwhile (Easter 3-C)

we are still struggling
   to come up with ways to
             rationally,
        carefully,
    all-so-theologically
                 explain
      just what happened
      a couple of weeks
                     ago

         and

you are
            blinding
   people with your grace
      so they can find
      the right road;

you are
            jumping into
        the Pit,
   cupping your hands together
      so people can put a foot
                 in them, getting
        a boost up into the
             kingdom;

you are
            holding hands
   with all the kids, singing:
     'ring around the throne,
      God never leaves us alone;
      amen!  amen!  we all fall down!'

you are
           standing at the grill,
      sliding the fish and
                  bread
      onto the warm plates, hollering
             to the disciples,
   'orders up!'

(c) 2013 Thom M. Shuman

doubt-less

       
conjoined at that 
            new birth 
      you spoke of 
      just before dawn 
               broke, 
   my lifelong companion 
   promised never 
          to leave me 
          stranded, especially 
     as i sought 
        to follow down 
           those mystery-filled 
           paths you 
   wandered, 
                 until 
      that evening 
            you pointed the 
        Way 
           with your scars, 
    and taking her 
              trembling hand, 
     we took 
     that first 
                 hesitant 
   step into 

belief.

(c) 2013 Thom M. Shuman