Author: londavis@hotmail.com

Our devotional thought comes from Matthew 9:27-31. 

Picture two blind men, their world cloaked in darkness, trailing Jesus through dusty streets. “Have mercy on us, Son of David!” they cry. Jesus steps indoors, but they don’t stop—they follow Him right through the door. There, He turns and asks, “Do you believe I can do this?” Their reply is a quiet thunder: “Yes, Lord.” Then, with a touch, light floods their eyes.

Persistence carves the path to breakthrough. These men wouldn’t let a closed door silence their hope. Like a child tugging a parent’s sleeve, undaunted by a distracted “Not now,” they kept after Jesus. Life also tests our “Yes, Lord.” It test it through long waits, steep climbs, or silent seasons. But faith isn’t a one-time whisper; it’s a steady pursuit, a heart that keeps seeking the One who heals.

Their answer was simple! No grand speeches or polished prayers—just “Yes, Lord.” We’re prone to tangle faith in words, as if God needs our eloquence to move. He doesn’t. He longs for a willing heart, a soul that trusts enough to say “Yes.” When we do, He steps in, doing what only He can—turning darkness to dawn, despair to dance.

Chase Jesus past every barrier. When He asks if you believe, let “Yes, Lord” rise from your depths. He’ll do the rest—bringing life where darkness once reigned.

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

Our devotional thought comes from John 14:9. Jesus says to Philip, “Have I been with you so long, and yet you have not known Me, Philip? He who has seen Me has seen the Father; so how can you say, ‘Show us the Father’?”

Picture this: You’ve got a neighbor you’ve seen a thousand times. He’s there mowing the lawn, sipping coffee on the porch, waving as you pass by. You know his name, his habits, maybe even his dog’s favorite toy. But one day, he shares a story—a heartache, a hope—and you realize you never really knew him at all. Proximity isn’t understanding.

Philip walked with Jesus for years. He saw water turn to wine, watched the lame dance, heard words that lit the soul on fire. Yet, when he asked to see the Father, Jesus gently pointed out the gap. Philip was close, but closeness isn’t knowing. Knowing about Jesus—His miracles, His sermons—doesn’t mean we grasp His heart.

So, how do we truly know Him? Here are some suggestions:

1. Linger with Him: Spend quiet moments in prayer and His Word, letting His presence sink deep.

2. Hear His Whisper: Listen for His voice in Scripture and the stillness of your soul.

3. Follow His Steps: Obey His call to love, serve, forgive—action reveals His character.

4. Serve His People: Touch the hurting; in their eyes you’ll see His face.

Knowing Jesus isn’t a checklist; it’s a relationship. Don’t settle for facts when you can have relationship.

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

In John 5:6, Jesus pauses by the pool of Bethesda and looks at a man who’d been sick for 38 long years. “Do you want to be healed?” He asks. 

It sounds so simple, doesn’t it? Yet that question cuts straight to the soul. Healing can’t start until we admit we’re broken. Think of it like this: the first step toward wholeness is whispering, “Lord, I need You.”

So many of us walk through life pretending we’re fine, brushing aside the cracks in our spirits, our hearts, our bodies. But here’s the truth—until we acknowledge our need, we cannot experience the healing we so desperately require.

That question Jesus asked? It demanded something raw from the lame man: honesty. After nearly four decades of pain, the man could’ve shouted, “Yes!” Instead, he murmured an excuse: “I have no one to put me into the pool” (John 5:7). Don’t we do that too? We often point fingers at life, at others, even at God, rather than face our need. Healing begins when the excuses end, when we’re honest before Him.

Jesus didn’t hand the man a plan. He just said, “Get up, pick up your mat, and walk” (John 5:8). Faith was the key. And it still is—for us. Forgiveness, repentance, trust—whatever the step, we must take it.

“Do you want to be healed?” Jesus asks us today. He knows our struggles and sees the wounds we hide. He won’t force His help, but oh, how He invites us to trust Him for wholeness.

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

Our devotional thought comes from Mark 4:40: “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

The storm was real. The waves crashed. The boat rocked. But the greater truth was sitting in the stern—Jesus. The disciples, though seasoned fishermen, were undone by the wind. Fear does that. It drowns out God’s promises. Jesus had already said, “Let us go to the other side” (Mark 4:35). Faith would have held onto His words, but fear fixated on the storm.

It wasn’t the first time fear had faced faith. Think of David, a shepherd boy standing before a giant. While others saw a warrior too big to defeat, David saw a God too big to lose. “The Lord who delivered me from the paw of the lion and the paw of the bear will deliver me from the hand of this Philistine” (1 Samuel 17:37). He remembered God’s past victories and faced the future unshaken.

What about you? When storms arise, where do you turn? The voices of fear will always shout the loudest. But faith? Faith whispers, “God is here.” Remember how God parted the sea, fed the hungry, calmed the storm. His faithfulness yesterday is the anchor for today.

The waves may rise, but Jesus is still in the boat. And He’s asking the same question: “Why are you so afraid?”

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

Our devotional thought comes from Mark 8:19.

Jesus looked at His disciples and asked, “When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many basketfuls of broken pieces did you collect?” They answered, “Twelve.”

It was a simple question with a powerful lesson. Jesus wasn’t looking for a number—He was reminding them of a truth they had forgotten. If God provided before, He can do it again?

Faith grows when we remember what God has already done. The disciples had witnessed a miracle, yet fear came in when faced with being down to their last loaf. Jesus’ question was a nudge—”Think back. Recall My faithfulness. Trust Me.”

David understood this principle. Before facing Goliath, he remembered how God had helped him defeat the lion and the bear (1 Samuel 17:37). That memory strengthened his resolve. If God had delivered him before, He would do it again.

We see this throughout Scripture. Paul, in prison, encouraged himself by recalling how God had rescued him from trials before (2 Corinthians 1:10).

God’s past provision guarantees He can do it again. The next time fear whispers that you won’t make it, pause. Remember. Count the basketfuls. The same God who was faithful then is faithful now.

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

Our devotional thought comes from Mark 6:38.

“Go and see how many loaves you have,” He told them. And after checking, they said, “Five—and two fish.”

Have you ever wondered why Jesus asked His disciples to count the loaves? The Creator of the universe, who spoke galaxies into existence, surely knew exactly what they had. Yet He asked.

In that simple question lies a profound truth that echoes through the pathways of our faith. Jesus wasn’t seeking information—He was inviting participation.

The Master could have materialized a banquet from nothing. Instead, He reached for what they already had in their hands. Five loaves. Two fish. Hardly enough to feed a family, let alone five thousand men.

That’s the miracle of God’s economy. He doesn’t ask what we wish we had. He asks what we do have. And when we surrender our “not enough,” He transforms it into “more than enough.”

Notice the beautiful dance of divine and human partnership. The disciples did what they could—they gathered, they counted, they brought, they distributed. Jesus did what they couldn’t—He multiplied.

This remains His pattern today. In your marriage that feels broken beyond repair. In your ministry that seems too small to matter. In your dreams that appear impossible to fulfill. He’s asking, “What do you have?” Not to shame you for its inadequacy, but to show you His sufficiency.

Your “five loaves and two fish” moment awaits. Bring what you have. Watch what He does. The miracle isn’t in what we possess, but in whose hands we place it.

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

Imagine Peter standing by Jesus on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, waves lapping at their feet. Fresh off a second chance—forgiven for denying his Savior—Peter should be soaking in the moment. But no, his eyes drift to John.

“Lord, what about him?” he wonders aloud, curiosity tugging at his heart.” Jesus turns, His eyes soft but piercing. He says, “If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me,” (John 21:22).

It’s a gentle nudge, a loving redirect. “Peter,” He seems to say, “don’t tangle yourself in John’s story. Keep your feet on your own path.”

Sound familiar? We’re all Peter sometimes, aren’t we? We peek at someone else’s life—their victories, their struggles—and think, Why not me, Lord? What about them? But Jesus leans in close, His voice a whisper on the wind: “Their story’s mine to pen. Yours is to walk with me.”

God’s plan for others isn’t our burden to carry. He’s holding their chapters just as surely as He’s holding ours. So, quit craning your neck over the fence. Slip your hand into His, trust His grip, and step forward. He’s got them. He’s got you.

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

Picture the scene: a woman, weary from years of bleeding, edges through the crowd. She’s desperate, yet discreet. Her plan? A secret rendezvous with Jesus’ power. Just a brush against His cloak—quietly, anonymously—and she’d slip away, healed. No one would know. She reaches, touches, and instantly, the flow stops. 

Luke 8:43-44 says,

“She came up behind Jesus and touched the fringe of His cloak, and immediately her bleeding stopped. ‘Who touched Me?’ Jesus asked. But they all denied it.”

Miracle received; mission accomplished. Or so she thought.

“Who touched Me?” The disciples shrug—everyone’s jostling Him! Yet He knows this was different. Her touch wasn’t a bump in the crowd; it was faith reaching out. She wanted His power on the sly, a private transaction—His blessing without the broadcast. She believed in Him, sure, but hoped to keep it under wraps.

She would learn that Jesus doesn’t do undercover miracles. His touch isn’t a stealth operation. When He heals, it’s not just your body that mends—it’s your story that shifts. The woman’s secret couldn’t stay hidden. Her healing shouted what her lips wouldn’t: “I’ve been with Jesus!” He drew her out, not to shame her, but to show her—and us—that touching Him changes everything, visibly.

We can’t swipe His grace and slink away unchanged. To encounter Jesus is to wear His mark, to glow with His presence. Try as we might for a hushed faith, His love spills over, evident to all. A secret relationship with Jesus? Impossible. His touch transforms, and the world notices.

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

Our devotional thought comes from John 1:38.  

“Jesus turned and saw them following. ‘What do you want?’ He asked…They said to Him, ‘Rabbi, where are You staying?'”  

As we read this, we should realize that “What do you want?” was more than a simple question—He knows us better than we know ourselves—but He asks it because we must know what we want. We must speak our hunger before we can be fed.  

Many live their lives restless and unsatisfied, searching but never finding. They chase after success, approval, or comfort, thinking these things will fill the emptiness inside. But a newer car or bigger house is a temporary part of life. With this question, Jesus forces us to pause. Unless we recognize our need for God, we will never truly seek Him.  

Faith begins with awareness. If we long for peace, we must turn to the Prince of Peace. If we crave meaning, we must look to the One who gives purpose. If we desire love, we must open our hearts to the Savior. Until we acknowledge our own emptiness, we will settle for things that cannot satisfy.  

Jesus still asks, “What do you want?” Not because He doesn’t know, but because we must know. When we finally realize our deepest need, we will find that He is the only One who can meet it.  

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

The first question Jesus ever asked is found in Luke 2:49.

“Why were you looking for Me?” The answer to that question seems obvious. They were looking because their 12-year-old son was missing for three days. Jesus’s question was really, “Why did you have to look for me? Surely, you knew where to find me.” We know that is what he meant because of his second question. “Did you not know that I had to be in My Father’s house?” There’s a sense of surprise in His words—almost as if He expected them to know exactly where He would be.

This story makes us ask, if someone were looking for you, where would they start? Would their first thought be to check a place of worship, a quiet corner of prayer, or a space of service? Or would they search everywhere else—workplaces, social spots, or entertainment venues—before it even crossed their mind to look for you in the presence of God?

Jesus’ identity and mission were so intertwined with His Father’s house that He assumed it was the obvious place to look. Is our connection with God just as clear to those around us? Do we live in such a way that people naturally associate us with the things of God?

Too often, life’s distractions pull us away from where we should be. Church becomes occasional, prayer gets hurried, and time with God feels optional. But Jesus reminds us that being in the Father’s presence isn’t just an event—it’s where we belong.

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