Author: londavis@hotmail.com

There’s a lie we tell ourselves when we’re bent on our own way. It whispers in our ears like a friend: “It’s my life. I’m only hurting me. So leave me alone.”

Proverbs 17:25 tells a different story: “A foolish son brings grief to his father and bitterness to her who bore him.”

Your life? Perhaps. But never only yours.

Think of your mother’s face when she first held you, or your father’s pride at your first step, your first word, your first triumph. They invested more than time. They poured their hearts into you. Their dreams wrapped around your future like a blanket of hope.

Here’s the truth that stings: when you stumble into foolishness, you don’t stumble alone. The tremor of your choices ripples outward, splashing grief onto the shores of hearts that love you most. Both parents feel it, that deep, aching sorrow that comes when dreams fracture and hope grows heavy.

No one lives as an island. Your choices echo in the chambers of other people’s hearts, especially those who bore you, raised you, and believed in you.

So before you make that next decision, pause. Ask yourself: “Who else will feel this? Whose heart might break alongside mine?”

Your life matters far beyond yourself. The question isn’t whether you’ll affect others. The question is: will you bring joy or grief to those who love you most?

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

Jonah 1:12 says, “Pick me up and throw me into the sea. Then the sea will become calm for you.”

Wait! What? Jonah could’ve said, “Turn the boat toward Nineveh.” That would’ve calmed the storm. But instead, he chose the sea. He chose drowning. He chose death over obedience.

Ever been that stubborn?

I once heard about a farmer and his dog. The dog lay on the porch, occasionally letting out a long, pitiful howl. A visitor asked, “What’s wrong with the dog?”
“He’s lying on a nail,” the farmer replied.
“Why doesn’t he move?”
“Guess it don’t hurt bad enough yet.”

Jonah was lying on a nail. God said go. Jonah said no. When the storm came, he didn’t repent. He opted for the sea and death. But God wasn’t done. Jonah found himself in the belly of a fish, in the depths of the sea, wrapped in seaweed and regret. And finally there, in the dark, he got off the nail.

Pain is a great teacher. It doesn’t always whisper, it howls. It reminds us that God’s commands aren’t suggestions. They’re invitations to life. And when we resist, the storm comes. Not to destroy us, but to redirect us.

Are you lying on a nail today? Is God calling you to forgive, to go, to trust? Don’t wait for the storm to howl louder. Get off the nail. Do the thing you know God’s asking of you.

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

Some say, “I don’t get mad, I get even.” As if evening the score were something noble. As if payback were a virtue worth pursuing.

But God sees it differently.

Solomon put it plainly: “Do not say, ‘Thus I shall do to him as he has done to me; I will render to the man according to his work.'” Don’t plot your revenge. Don’t scheme to balance the scales.

Here’s why: When we take vengeance into our own hands, we step into a place we were never meant to stand. We climb onto the judge’s bench. We wrap ourselves in God’s robes. We declare, “I’ll be the one to make this right.”

But that throne is taken.

God is your defender. He sees what happened. He knows the depth of the wound, the weight of the injustice. And He is fully capable of handling it without your help. When you seek revenge, you’re not just acting out—you’re saying, “God, You’re not enough. You won’t do what needs to be done, so I will.”

Private vengeance is sinful not just because it’s harmful, but because it puts us in God’s place.

So what do you do with the hurt? Where do you put the pain when someone has wronged you?

You give it to the One who wore your wounds on a cross. You surrender the score-settling to the One who keeps perfect accounts. You trust that God’s justice is better than your revenge, His timing wiser than your impulses, His mercy deeper than your bitterness.

Let Him be God. Let Him defend. Let Him judge.

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

Most days of a person’s life are just ordinary. That’s the way it was for Moses that day. The desert was quiet. Sand stretched to the horizon, sheep wandered lazily, and Moses walked through another routine moment of an ordinary life. Then—fire. A bush ablaze, burning but not consumed. No thunder. No trumpet. Just a whisper of wonder flickering in the wilderness.

Most folks might have walked on, muttering about mirages and heat. But Moses didn’t. Scripture says he “turned aside.”

Those two words changed everything. The divine moments rarely shout. They whisper. God does not force Himself on distracted hearts. He waits for a turning. Every “burning bush” begins with curiosity, attention, and pause.

How many bushes do we pass each day? A phrase that lingers from a verse. A tug in prayer we silence with hurry. A hurting soul who needs our listening. Perhaps God is there, hidden in plain sight, waiting for us to turn aside.

When Moses did, heaven spoke: “Moses, Moses!” What began as observation became a life’s work. The shepherd met his calling not in a palace, but by looking closer at a burning bush.

So today, turn aside. Let ordinary moments become holy ground. God still surrounds your life with small burning fires that call you to serve him. Just notice!

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

Our text today is Psalm 14:1

“The fool has said in his heart, ‘There is no God.'”

Really? There is no God!

Here are 5 things that lead people to such a conclusion. 

1. Sometimes it’s pain—suffering so deep that a good God seems impossible. 

2. Sometimes it’s pride—that stubborn self-sufficiency that refuses to admit dependence. “I can handle life on my own” becomes the creed of the self-made soul.

3. Sometimes it’s culture. In our broken world, faith gets labeled as outdated and unsophisticated. People absorb this attitude like secondhand smoke and assume disbelief is the intelligent position.

4. Sometimes it’s moral resistance. Believing in God means accepting His standards. Denying Him becomes a way to quiet an inconvenient conscience. 

5. Sometimes it’s simple distraction. Life moves fast, and reflection takes time. Many never pause long enough to consider eternal things.

But here’s the heart of it: whether God exists is the most significant question you’ll ever face. Scholars have devoted lifetimes to studying the evidence. Others have given it a few hours and walked away convinced He’s not there.

That’s the fool the psalmist describes—not someone who lacks intelligence, but someone who dismisses the most important question without real study. The question remains: does God exist? It is the most important question of all, because everything else hangs on it. To dismiss it casually is to gamble eternity on a passing opinion. The wise seek, the proud dismiss, but the honest heart that searches will find Him—because He is there to be found.

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

Our Verse is 1 Corinthians 11:1

 “Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ.”

In this verse Paul shows us that he understood something we often forget: leadership isn’t about the rulebook you carry—it’s about the path you walk.

Notice what Paul didn’t say. He didn’t say, “Do what I tell you.” He said, “Follow me.” There’s a world of difference between the two. One demands compliance. The other invites companionship.

Paul lived what he taught. His letters weren’t penned from an ivory tower but from prison cells and dusty roads. He didn’t hand down commands he himself refused to obey. He walked the narrow way first, then turned around and said, “Come on. Follow me as I follow Christ.”

Someone once said, “My father didn’t tell me how to live; he lived, and let me watch him do it.” That’s the heart of genuine influence. Whether you’re raising children, leading a team, or mentoring a friend, your life is the loudest sermon you’ll ever preach.

Ralph Waldo Emerson reminded us: “What you do speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say.”

Your kids are watching. Your coworkers are watching. Your neighbors are watching. Not to catch you in a mistake, but to learn how to live.

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