Author: londavis@hotmail.com

Our devotional thought comes from Psalms 12:1.

“Help, O LORD, for the godly are no more; the faithful have vanished from among men.”

Look at the last words again, “The faithful have vanished from among men.” That is lonely.

If you’ve ever looked around and felt like the only one trying to do what’s right, you’re not alone. David felt it too. He cried out to God, not just because things were hard, but because it seemed like no one else cared about what was holy. “The faithful have vanished,” he wrote. That’s how it feels sometimes—like you’re the last light in a dark room.

Elijah knew that feeling well. After calling down fire from heaven, he ran into the wilderness and told God, “I am the only one left” (1 Kings 19:10). In his heart, the battle felt lost. But God reminded him—he wasn’t alone. There were still 7,000 who hadn’t bowed the knee to a false God. Elijah’s vision was clouded by fear and fatigue, but God’s reality was bigger than his feelings.

Noah was another who walked alone. While the world mocked, he built an ark. One plank at a time, he showed that faithfulness doesn’t need applause—it just needs obedience.

So when you feel like the last believer in the office, in your family, in your town—remember, you’re in good company. The faithful may feel few, but they are never forgotten. God always sees, always remembers, and always strengthens those who remain true.

“Help, O LORD, for the godly are no more; the faithful have vanished from among men.”

No they haven’t. And no they won’t.

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

Our devotional thought comes from Psalm 119:176.

“I have strayed like a lost sheep; seek Your servant, for I have not forgotten Your commandments.”

Isn’t it something that the longest chapter in the Bible ends not with a shout of victory, but with a whisper of need? After 175 verses celebrating God’s Word, the psalmist admits he’s wandered. Not rebelled. Not defied. Just drifted.

Like a sheep.

He doesn’t say he’s thrown away God’s commandments—he says he hasn’t forgotten them. That tells me something: you can love God’s truth and still lose your way. You can cherish His Word and still find yourself off the path.

But here’s the beautiful part—he doesn’t try to fix it himself. He doesn’t say, “I’ll find my way back.” No, he says, “Seek Your servant.” It’s a prayer for pursuit. A cry from the wilderness that trusts the Shepherd to come looking.

I wonder if you’ve ever felt like that—lost, yet still longing? Distant, but not defiant? This verse reminds us that the God who gave us His Word also gives us His grace. He is not waiting for us to be perfect. He is looking for the honest heart that says, “Lord, I’m yours—even when I wander.”

Let this be our prayer today: “Seek me, Lord. I’m still listening. I still believe. I just need You to find me.”

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

Our prayer comes from Psalm 6:2.  

“Be merciful to me, O LORD, for I am frail; heal me, O LORD, for my bones are in agony.”

Pain has a voice. It doesn’t speak in polished prayers or pretty words. It groans. In this verse, David is groaning. The giant-slayer is now the bed-ridden. His bones ache. His spirit is worn. And yet, he turns to God—not away from God. That’s where the beauty begins.

Scripture is full of people like David. People who met God not on the mountain, but in the valley. Job lost everything, yet in the ashes, he said, “My ears had heard of You, but now my eyes have seen You.” (Job 42:5). Paul, burdened by a thorn he couldn’t remove, found grace that was sufficient and strength made perfect in weakness. Hannah, barren and broken, wept in the temple until her silent pain became a sacred offering.

There’s a holy pattern here: suffering becomes sacred when it drives us to the Savior.

David didn’t ask why—he asked Who. “Heal me, O LORD.” That’s the cry of a soul who believes God is still listening, even when life hurts.

Your pain may not make sense. Your prayers might come out in groans. But, you’re not alone. The same God who met David in his agony will meet you in yours. Sometimes, the place that hurts the most becomes the place where we hear Him best.

“Be merciful to me, O LORD, for I am frail.”

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

Just as children eagerly reach for chicken nuggets—those universally beloved, bite-sized morsels that rarely disappoint—I’ve discovered similar delight in the compact prayers scattered throughout the Psalms. Like a child who has never met a chicken nugget they didn’t love, I’ve never encountered prayer nuggets in the Psalms that didn’t satisfy my spiritual hunger.

These concentrated expressions of faith come in various flavors: praise, lament, thanksgiving, and petition. Each one delivers spiritual nourishment in just a few satisfying bites of sacred text. Among them are, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me,”  “Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts,” and “Teach me your way, O LORD, that I may walk in your truth.”

Each of these brief prayers, and many others, captures a profound spiritual need making them perfect “prayer nuggets” that can be easily recalled throughout the day.

What makes these prayer nuggets so irresistible? Perhaps it’s their ability to express our deepest needs in just a handful of words. Like the perfect chicken nugget for a child, these prayers require no elaborate preparation to enjoy—they’re ready to consume whenever spiritual hunger strikes.

Tomorrow we begin a series that will explore these delectable morsels of prayer found throughout the Psalms. Join me as we savor these nuggets of prayer—each one is a perfect bite of spiritual nourishment.

We start tomorrow with the prayer found in Psalms 6:2. – “Be merciful to me, O LORD, for I am frail; heal me, O LORD, for my bones are in agony.”

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

Our devotional thought comes from John 21:17: “He said to him the third time, ‘Simon, son of John, do you love me?’ Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, ‘Do you love me?’ and he said to him, ‘Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.’ Jesus said to him, ‘Feed my sheep.'”

The lakeside was quiet that morning. The smell of fish and burning embers lingered in the air. Three times the question came. Three times to heal three denials. “Do you love me?”

How quickly we answer, “Yes, Lord, I love you.” The words tumble from our lips like casual greetings. We sing it in our worship. We declare it in our prayers. We wear it on our t-shirts.

But Jesus wasn’t satisfied with Peter’s words alone, was He?

“Feed my sheep.”

It’s as if Jesus is saying, “Don’t tell me you love me, Peter. Show me.”

Love, in Jesus’ vocabulary, is never merely a sentiment. It’s always a verb. It has hands that serve and feet that move and arms that embrace.

How many of us have mastered the language of love without learning its actions? We’ve become fluent in “Lord, I love you” while remaining strangers to the hungry, the hurting, the lost sheep He’s placed in our path.

Today, Jesus asks us the same haunting question. Not to shame us, but to shape us. And when we answer, He doesn’t just nod and smile. He points to His sheep—the difficult coworker, the lonely neighbor, the struggling family member—and says, “Show me.”

Words matter. But love that feeds is what changes the world.

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

Our devotional thought comes from Matthew 16:26.

“What will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?”

That question doesn’t whisper. It thunders. It walks into the boardrooms and the corner offices, echoes through the concert halls and behind the bright lights of success. It asks every heart, “What’s the price tag you’ve put on your soul?”

The illusion of success is a powerful thing. It promises everything—status, security, applause—but it never warns you about what it takes in return. It tells you to keep climbing, to never rest, to sacrifice your evenings, your values, your relationships, all in the name of progress. And somewhere along the way, without even noticing, we begin trading eternal things for temporary ones.

I’ve seen men with full calendars and empty hearts. Women with closets full of clothes but a soul starved for peace. We chase promotions while our families long for presence. We hunger for validation from a world that never stays satisfied.

Jesus knew this temptation. That’s why He didn’t ask if we might forfeit our soul. He asked what good it would do if we did. Because He knows we’re in danger of selling our soul.

Let’s not settle. Let’s not trade forever for now. Let’s walk away from the illusion and back to what’s real—our soul, safely anchored in Him.

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

Our devotional thought comes from Luke 24:19.

Jesus’ question is: “What Things?”

Here is the backdrop to that question:

Picture two disciples, heads bowed, hearts heavy with grief, shuffling along the road to Emmaus. The crucifixion had shattered their hopes, and whispers of an empty tomb left them unsure of what to believe. Then, a stranger falls into step beside them. He doesn’t announce Himself with trumpets or glory. Instead, He simply walks with them, listening as they pour out their confusion and sorrow. That stranger? Jesus Himself.

We’ve all walked that dusty road of doubt. Maybe it’s a diagnosis that shakes us, a loss that unmoors us, or a season where faith feels like a flickering candle in the wind. We don’t always see Jesus right away—sometimes we don’t recognize Him at all in the moment. But He’s there, pacing beside us, guiding us through the fog of uncertainty even when we can’t sense His presence.

I think to times when I’ve wrestled with decisions or faced shadows of fear. Looking back, I see Jesus walking with me, steadying my steps when I couldn’t see the path. He doesn’t abandon us to our struggles; He meets us where we are, doubts and all, guiding us with a love that never falters.

So, take heart. In your uncertainty, Jesus is near—walking, listening, and leading. 

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

Our devotional thought comes from John 6:61: “When Jesus knew in himself that his disciples were grumbling about this, he said to them, “Does this offend you?””

Offend. That’s a strong word, isn’t it? Yet, Jesus used it. He knew his words, especially those about being the bread of life, were rubbing against the grain of their expectations. They wanted a conquering king, a provider of earthly feasts, not a suffering savior who spoke of eating his flesh and drinking his blood.

And so, they grumbled. Just like us, when the message gets tough. When it speaks of repentance, of laying down our desires, of a life that looks less like the world’s party and more like a quiet walk with God. We bristle. We find offense in the very things meant to set us free.

As G.K. Chesterton so wisely noted, “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and left untried.” How often do we turn away, not because we’ve wrestled with faith and found it empty, but because the cost seems too high? We see the mountain, and without even attempting the climb, we declare it impossible.

Jesus’ question echoes through the ages: “Does this offend you?” He isn’t surprised by our resistance. He simply invites us to consider, is it the message, or is it our resistance to change that causes the offense? Perhaps, just perhaps, the path that feels hardest is the one that leads us home.

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

Jesus’ question is from Matthew 6:25.

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?”

In our consumer-driven culture, it’s easy to measure life by what we own. We chase the newest gadgets, the sharpest outfits, the shiniest cars—worrying when we fall behind. But Jesus steps into our frenzy with a gentle nudge: “Isn’t there more to this adventure?” He’s not dismissing our needs; He knows we need bread on the table and shoes on our feet. Yet, He lifts our eyes beyond the pantry and the closet to something grander.

Picture life as a journey down a winding trail. Some travelers lug overstuffed suitcases, weighed down by every trinket they’ve collected. Their steps grow heavy, their hearts anxious. Others pack light, carrying just enough, free to soak in the sunset and share a laugh with a friend. Which one are you?

Jesus invites us to travel light, to prioritize the treasures of faith, love, and purpose over possessions. When we do, we find God’s provision waiting—sometimes in a friend’s kindness, sometimes in a quiet peace that defies the bills piling up. Life isn’t about what we can clutch; it’s about who we become and how we bless others.

So, pause today. What’s in your suitcase? Can you let go of worry and trust Him instead? Life’s too rich to be just about stuff.

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

Our devotional thought comes from Matthew 21:42.

“Jesus said to them, ‘Have you never read in the Scriptures: ‘The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone. This is from the Lord, and it is marvelous in our eyes’?”

Picture a man wandering through life’s maze—searching for purpose, wrestling with pain, craving direction. He calls a friend, scrolls through social media, and flips open the latest self-help book. The answers elude him like whispers lost in the wind. Then, one quiet evening, he dusts off his Bible. There, in Psalm 34:18, he reads, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Suddenly, the fog lifts. He sees that he is not alone. God’s voice was waiting all along.

Jesus once asked the religious leaders, “Have you never read?” These were men who memorized Scripture, yet they missed its heartbeat—Jesus Himself stood before them, but they pushed Him aside, too busy with their own blueprints. 

We, too, chase wisdom in a thousand places—friends, culture, trending hashtags—while the Bible sits untouched, a treasure chest unopened.

Psalm 119:105 promises, “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”

When questions swirl, pause and ask, “Have I read what God has said?” Open your Bible. Let His truth be your answer.. 

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