Month: July 2025

One of the quiet tragedies in Scripture is how often people measured miracles with wallets. When Jesus told His disciples to feed the five thousand, they panicked. “That would take more than half a year’s wages!” they replied (Mark 6:37). Their reply reveals practical concern, but also limited vision. They were thinking in terms of what money could buy, not what faith could do.

Aren’t we just like them? Faced with a need, we reach for the checkbook or calculator. We assess the budget, the effort, the odds—and forget to factor in God. But Jesus wasn’t asking for math. He was inviting trust.

He didn’t need a catering budget. Just five loaves and two fish. Just someone to believe that little becomes much when placed in the hands of the Master.

What if we saw our needs not through the lens of limitation, but through the eyes of faith? What if we asked not “How much will it cost?” but “How much will God do?”

Bring your lunchbox to Jesus today. You’ll be amazed at what He can do with it.

I’m Lonnie Davis, and these are thoughts worth thinking.

Jesus wasn’t just a speaker. He touched people’s lives. He didn’t just preach about heaven; He stepped right into the messy, painful reality of earth.

In Luke 9:2, it says, He sent His disciples out “to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal the sick.” 

In this verse you can see how the message and mercy went hand-in-hand. That’s  still how Jesus operates today.

Too often, we try to split these two. We talk about salvation but then walk right past someone hurting. Or we offer practical help without offering the story of the gospel. Jesus, though, did both. He didn’t just talk about God’s love—He touched the leper, opened blind eyes, and literally called the broken close to Him. His gospel wasn’t a lecture; it was compassion in vibrant, life-giving action.

What if our everyday lives looked more like that? What if our words brought healing, and our actions genuinely carried the gospel message?

You don’t have to be a preacher or a theologian to do this. All you need is a willing heart. 

Share the truth of the kingdom, and then love people just like the King did. When we offer both the message and the mercy, we are genuinely offering Jesus Himself.

I’m Lonnie Davis, and these are thoughts worth thinking.

John the Baptist knew who Jesus was. He had proclaimed it boldly. He had baptized Him in the Jordan. He had seen the Spirit descend and heard the voice from heaven. But now? Now he was sitting in a prison cell, waiting for a verdict from a wicked man. The same voice that once shouted, “Behold, the Lamb of God!” now whispered a question through prison bars: “Are You the one who is to come, or should we expect someone else?” (Matthew 11:3).

It wasn’t that John stopped believing. It’s just that life didn’t look like he thought it would. And discouragement crept in like a shadow at dusk. He didn’t lose his faith, he lost his footing.

But notice this: Jesus didn’t scold John. He didn’t shame him. He didn’t say, “After all you’ve seen, how could you ask that?” No, Jesus responded with evidence and kindness. “Tell John what you see—the blind see, the lame walk, the dead live, and good news is preached.” In other words, “John, I’m still at work. Even when you don’t see it.”

Friend, God is not threatened by your questions. You can bring them to Him. Faith isn’t the absence of doubt—it’s what keeps walking when doubt whispers. So if you’re wondering, hurting, or just plain worn out, come, like John did. Ask.

I’m Lonnie Davis, and these are thoughts worth thinking.

Three women teach us everything we need to know about serving Jesus despite the obstacles.

Picture this: It’s the first Sunday after the cross. Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome are walking toward Jesus’ tomb, carrying spices. Their hearts are heavy, their mission clear—they must anoint their Lord’s body. But there’s a problem. A big one.

“Who will roll the stone away?” they wonder aloud.

This wasn’t a pebble blocking their path. This was a massive boulder, sealed tight, guarded by soldiers. Any sensible person would have turned around. Any logical thinker would have made better plans. But these women? They kept walking.

They went anyway.

You see, God specializes in “anyway” moments. When the Israelites left Egypt, their sandals weren’t guaranteed to last forty years in the desert. But God said, “Go anyway.” And for four decades, their shoes never wore out.

The women at the tomb didn’t have all their ducks in a row. They didn’t have a stone-rolling strategy or soldier-negotiating skills. But they had something better—they had faith in the God who makes a way.

Maybe you’re facing your own immovable stone today. Perhaps you feel called to serve Jesus, but the obstacles seem insurmountable. Take a lesson from these faithful women: Start walking anyway. God is the “Anyway God,” and He will make a way.

I’m Lonnie Davis, and these are thoughts worth thinking.

Not that kind of deviled ham, but rather the story of the pigs that got devils sent into them. In Mark 5, we meet a man who knew the feeling of hopelessness all too well. He lived among the tombs. It pushed him to the edges of humanity, isolating him to a place of death and despair. It is a testament to how sin dehumanizes and strips away dignity and hope.

People tried to help by binding him with chains. Their efforts were futile. Human strength and physical chains couldn’t break the hold. He was too strong, or perhaps, the evil within was stronger still. But then, Jesus arrived. Not with a struggle, not with a battle, but with a word. “Come out of him, you impure spirit!” And just like that, the chains of darkness shattered and the demons were sent into a herd of pigs.

What an amazing contrast! All the strength of humanity couldn’t hold him for even a moment, yet a single word from Christ shattered his chains and set him completely free. It reminds us that our fiercest battles—the ones that drive us into our own dark “tombs”—are powerless against the voice of Jesus. No matter how alone or diminished you feel, His word still brings us life.

I’m Lonnie Davis, and these are thoughts worth thinking.

In the treasury of Scripture lies a gem of wisdom from Jesus: “It is more blessed to give than to receive” (Acts 20:35). Simple words. Profound truth.

The world whispers differently. Get more, it says. Accumulate. Acquire. Our hearts echo the chant. We hunger for possessions, position, praise. But Jesus? He charts a different course entirely.

Give, He says. Give freely.

What happens when we do? Something wonderful. Something unexpected. In the very act of opening our hands, our hearts expand. When we serve the hungry, comfort the lonely, encourage the weary—we taste a joy that no purchase can provide. We become what we were meant to be: conduits of heaven’s love.

Giving freely is worship in work clothes. When we give, we mirror our generous God who gave His Son. We become walking demonstrations of God’s heart.

The world says happiness comes from having more. Jesus says blessedness comes from giving more. 

The world promises fulfillment through accumulation. Jesus promises joy through giving away.

Which voice will you heed? The culture that builds bigger barns or the Christ who empties His hands? Choose His way. Choose the blessed way. Choose giving.

You’ll discover what millions before you have learned: it truly is more blessed to give than to receive.

I’m Lonnie Davis, and these are thoughts worth thinking.

Some stories are so well-known that we want to hear the whole story. In Mark chapter 4, we find one of these treasured accounts, Jesus calming the stormy sea.

When that evening came, He said to His disciples, “Let us cross to the other side.” After they had dismissed the crowd, they took Jesus with them, since He was already in the boat. And there were other boats with Him.

Soon a violent windstorm came up, and the waves were breaking over the boat, so that it was being swamped. But Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on the cushion. So they woke Him and said, “Teacher, don’t You care that we are perishing?”

Then Jesus got up and rebuked the wind and the sea. “Silence!” He commanded. “Be still!” And the wind died down, and it was perfectly calm.

From this story, I call your attention to three lessons for your heart.

First: In life we are all in a boat with someone.

Second: A storm always comes. To live without knowing this will lead you into an unhappy life. Expect the storm. “To be forewarned is to be forearmed.”

Third: When you find yourself in a storm, make sure you have Jesus in your boat. 

True faith doesn’t show itself in easy times but in the middle of the storm. The strength to stand firm comes from trusting that Jesus is in your boat.

I’m Lonnie Davis, and these are thoughts worth thinking.

Our verse today is Luke 7:38

“As she stood behind Him at His feet weeping, she began to wet His feet with her tears and wipe them with her hair. Then she kissed His feet and anointed them with the perfume.”

As she came up behind Jesus, she took at his feet. She carried more than perfume that day. She carried a heart so heavy with sin, so burdened with shame, that when she saw Jesus reclining at dinner, the floodgates opened.

Her tears fell like rain on dusty feet. Not a sprinkle, but a downpour. Tears of recognition. Tears of relief. The kind of tears that come when you realize someone sees all your mess and loves you anyway.

Watch her worship. No songs, no speeches. Just tears and tender touches. She dried his feet with her hair—her glory, her crown—making it a towel for her Savior. Social rules? Forgotten. Personal dignity? Surrendered. 

This is love and worship. Her great sin had been met by even greater grace, and her heart couldn’t contain it. The deeper the forgiveness, the higher the gratitude.

Perhaps that’s the secret to worship: remembering how much we’ve been forgiven. When we truly grasp the weight of our sin and the wonder of his grace, like her, our hearts, and our worship will overflow.

I’m Lonnie Davis, and these are thoughts worth thinking.

Loss Piles Upon Loss

Picture her walking behind the wooden stretcher. Her world has collapsed—not once, but twice. First, her husband died leaving her a widow. Now, her son follows him to the grave and she is left alone in the world. She is more than bereaved; she is erased. In her culture, a woman without husband or son is voiceless, powerless, and vulnerable.

But here’s what she didn’t know: Someone was watching.

As the funeral procession wound through Nain’s narrow streets, another procession approached—this one pulsing with life. At its center walked Jesus, and when He saw her tears, His heart broke. “Don’t cry,” He whispered, stepping toward the impossible (Luke 7:13). She did not yet know that though her hope was being carried to the grave, Jesus specializes in resurrection appointments.”

One touch. One command. One breath from heaven, and death released its grip.

Sometimes our losses pile up like winter storms—relentless, numbing, seemingly endless. We walk behind our own stretchers, that carry our dreams that have died. We feel forgotten, overlooked, abandoned.

But we’re not. The same Jesus who stopped a funeral procession is walking toward your sorrow today. He sees your tears. He knows your name. When life has stripped away everything you thought you needed to survive, that’s often when God shows up to remind you that He is everything you actually need to live.”

I’m Lonnie Davis, and these are thoughts worth thinking.

Our text today is Matthew 8:5-6

When Jesus entered Capernaum, a centurion came and pleaded with Him, “Lord, my servant lies at home, paralyzed and in terrible agony.”

Ever noticed how love pushes us? Not just a gentle nudge, but a full-on shove into uncomfortable places? Take the Roman centurion in Capernaum. A big shot, a man of authority, yet his heart was wrapped around a sick servant. Not just any servant, mind you, but one he deeply valued.

He was a Roman, a Gentile, humbling himself to seek out Jesus, a Jew. Think about that, a Roman big-wig, seeking the help of Jewish preacher! Yet, his love for his servant’s suffering bridged that gap. He didn’t send a note or a friend, he went himself, pleading for a miracle. His urgency, his willingness to cross social and religious lines, screamed one thing: “I care!”

Jesus saw it. He marveled at such faith. A faith born from such profound compassion. The depth of our love isn’t measured by our words, but by our willingness to step out, to go the extra mile, to swallow our pride, all for the sake of another. That centurion’s effort wasn’t just a request; it was a testament to a love that wouldn’t quit. How far you are willing to go to help another shows how much you care.

That is a love that moves mountains… and heals servants. It still does.

I’m Lonnie Davis, and these are thoughts worth thinking.