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Our reading for today is Matthew 19:26.

“With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”

Some words sound too big to be true—until you remember who said them. Jesus wasn’t speaking theory. He was speaking with certainty.

Young David knew this certainty. He walked onto a battlefield where Israel trembled before a giant. The boy heard the roar of Goliath, but he also remembered the whisper of God. King Saul told him he was too small, too young, too inexperienced. But David wasn’t listening to Saul’s opinion—he was remembering God’s record.

“When a lion or a bear came and took a lamb,” David told the king, “I went after it… struck it… and killed it.” He didn’t brag on his skill. He was bragging on his God. If God had been with him against a bear, why not a giant?

That’s how faith works. One victory at a time. Before you face a giant, face the bear. Before the bear, face the wolf. Before the wolf, face the mouse. Small victories prepare you for large battles.

So don’t despise the little tests. Win them with God, and you’ll be ready when the giant steps out. When you’re ready, you’ll find that God has been ready all along.

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

What if God whispered to you, “It’s time”? No more tomorrows. No more healing. Just the final chapter. That’s the message King Hezekiah received as he lay on his sickbed. But Hezekiah did something beautiful—he wept. He prayed. And God, rich in mercy, responded.

2 Kings 20:5-6 says, 

“I have heard your prayer and seen your tears; I will heal you… I will add fifteen years to your life.”

Just fifteen years. Not eternity. Not a fountain of youth. But what a gift.

When you’re young, that verse feels ordinary. But as the years gather, it becomes wonderful. What would you do with fifteen more years?

First, I’d give thanks. Gratitude is the melody of grace. To be handed time—precious, numbered time—is to be handed a canvas. Paint it with praise.

Second, I’d think about legacy. What will I leave behind? Solomon left wisdom. Paul left letters. Jesus left love. Legacy isn’t granite etched with “Gone but not forgotten.” It’s the echo of your life in someone else’s soul.

And finally, I’d savor the days. Each sunrise is a divine whisper: “This one’s for you.” Don’t rush past it. Don’t waste it. Enjoy it.

God may not give you fifteen years. He may give you fifteen minutes. But whatever He gives, use it well. Eternity awaits—but today is His gift.

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

Today’s reading is Matthew 6:9.
“This, then, is how you should pray:
‘Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name…’”

Before we ask. Before we praise. Before we whisper a single word—Jesus invites us to begin with one truth: God is our Father.

Not a distant deity. Not a cold judge. A Father. And like any good father, He is worthy of honor.

Years ago, I met a woman whose story still echoes in my heart. She grew up in a home where love was unevenly poured. Her mother favored her sisters and left her in the shadows. Yet when her mother grew old and frail, it was this daughter—the overlooked one—who opened her door and her heart.

A friend asked, “Why? After all she did to you?”

Her answer? “Because it’s not about her. It’s about me.”

Honor isn’t earned. It’s chosen. We don’t honor because someone deserves it. We honor because of who we are.

And when it comes to our Heavenly Father, He is always worthy. But even if He weren’t, we would still honor Him because it’s not about Him. It’s about us. About the kind of children we choose to be.

So when you pray, begin with honor. Begin with “Our Father.” Let those words shape your heart. Because honoring Him isn’t just a reflection of who He is—it’s a reflection of who you are.

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

Today’s reading is Matthew 18:21-22.

“Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother who sins against me? Up to seven times?”

Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times.”

Peter thought he was being generous. Seven times? That’s mercy with muscle. But Jesus didn’t blink. “Try seventy-seven.” That’s not math. That’s grace.

Forgiveness isn’t easy. It’s not natural. It’s not quick. If you’ve ever been wounded, you know that some hurts don’t vanish. They linger like shadows at sunset. So how do we forgive that much?

First: Realize that forgiveness takes time.

There’s no verse that erases memory. Wounds heal, but slowly. Scars don’t disappear; they just fade with time.

Second: Know that you don’t forget; you choose not to remember.

Even God, in His omniscience, doesn’t forget like we do when we misplace our keys. He chooses not to recall. He said, “I will remember their sins no more” (Jeremiah 31:34). That’s divine restraint.

I once helped a family move. I took a picture off the wall and found a hole behind it. The wife whispered, “That’s where my husband knocked me into the wall. I just put a picture over it.”

Forgiveness is like that. You don’t pretend the hole isn’t there. You just choose not to stare at it anymore.

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

Our verse for today is Matthew 7:1.

“Judge not, that you be not judged.”

The one Bible verse that every unrepentant heart knows is, “Judge not that you be not judged.” 

They usually know only the first two words, “Judge not.” 

If you disapprove of their being drunk and they know you are a Christian, the scripture they quote is, “Judge not.” 

Does the Bible really teach us not to judge? Of course not, but a person with only a shallow understanding of the Bible latches on to a little learning and makes something out of it that was never intended. 

Here’s the rest of the rest of the teaching. If you see a person drunk, it is not judgmental to call them drunk. If you see them drunk every day for a month, you are not judging them by saying they have a drinking problem. 

The same Jesus who said, “Judge not,” also said, “You will know them by their fruits.” (Matthew 7:16). It is not judging to see all the fruit ruined and say that the fruit is bad. It is judging to see one rotten apple and say that all the fruit is bad.

So, “Judge not!” But do inspect the fruit and make a good decision. If you don’t, then life will be filled with very hard spots.

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

Mary stirred at seven. In the first ten minutes, the sun rose, the coffee brewed, and the world spun on. She got up and started her day, but in those quiet ten minutes, somewhere else a man lost his grip on hope and pulled the trigger. Ten minutes later, a woman swallowed every pill she owned, longing for silence. By the end of that hour, six souls had slipped away—each one a story, each one a heartbreak.

Every ten minutes in America, someone chooses to end their life. Not because they want death, but because they can’t find a reason to keep living. Hopeless. Unloved. Alone.

Jesus met someone like that once. A woman with five failed marriages and a heart full of shame. She came to the well at noon, when the sun was high and the crowd was gone. She didn’t want whispers. She wanted water.

Instead, she found Jesus.

He didn’t shame her. He didn’t scold her. He offered her living water. Grace. Purpose. A reason to live.

Her story is in John 4. And it’s not just her story—it’s ours because we all come to wells. We all thirst. And Jesus waits.

To some, he’s just a man at the well. To others, he’s the Savior who changes everything.

The choice is ours. And eternity leans in, listening.

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

Our reading for today is Luke 17:5-6.

The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” 

And the Lord answered, “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you can say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it will obey you.”

“Increase our faith!” the disciples pleaded. What a refreshing prayer. Here were the chosen twelve, the inner circle, the ones who walked dusty roads with the Son of God—and they knew something was missing.

Their honesty gives us hope. Faith isn’t a one-time pill that arrives complete and perfect. It’s more like a seed that sprouts, stretches, and strengthens over time. The disciples understood this. They recognized their faith needs room to grow.

How comforting to know that even apostles struggled with faith. Peter sank in the waves. Thomas demanded proof. The eleven hid behind locked doors. Their struggles don’t disqualify them—they humanize them.

But notice where they turned. They didn’t enroll in a self-help seminar or practice positive thinking. They went straight to Jesus. “Increase our faith,” they asked the only One who could. Faith isn’t something we manufacture; it’s something we grow toward..

Today, when your faith feels small, remember the apostles’ prayer. Turn to the same Source they did. He who began a good work in you will complete it. Your faith can grow.

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

Our reading for today is Mark 9:1-15.

One moment, they’re on the mountaintop, witnessing Jesus in blazing glory, conversing with Moses and Elijah. The air is thin, holy, electric with God’s presence. Peter wants to build tents and stay forever. Who wouldn’t?

But Jesus leads them down. Down from the clouds into the chaos. Down from the divine dialogue into earthly discord. At the mountain’s base, a desperate father waits with his tormented son. The remaining disciples stand helpless, their faith insufficient for the task.

Sound familiar? Sunday’s worship service fills your heart with heaven’s song, but Monday’s meetings drain your soul. A powerful prayer retreat lifts your spirit, and then you return home to sick children and unpaid bills. The mountain was real. The valley is also.

Here’s what the disciples learned that day: God doesn’t give us mountaintop moments to make us comfortable; He gives them to prepare us for valley work. The glory we glimpse above equips us for the battles below. The transfigured Christ who blazes with heaven’s light is the same Christ who heals broken hearts.

Don’t despise the valley, friend. That’s where people hurt. That’s where faith gets tested and muscles grow stronger. That’s where transfigured lives make the biggest difference.

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

Our reading today is Matthew 16:26

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

Picture a small child sitting alone in a room. He is staring at a single marshmallow. The researcher’s instructions echo in small ears: “Wait fifteen minutes, and you’ll get two.” Simple choice. Immediate pleasure or delayed reward.

That 1970s Stanford experiment revealed something profound about human nature. Some children grabbed the marshmallow immediately. Others waited, squirmed, covered their eyes, but held out for the greater prize. The results followed them for decades.

Jesus presents us with the ultimate marshmallow test. The world spreads its buffet before us—success, wealth, recognition, comfort. All yours, right now. Just reach out and take it. But heaven whispers, “Wait. There’s something infinitely better coming.”

The tragedy isn’t in enjoying good things. God created pleasure, beauty, and abundance. The tragedy is trading the eternal and the priceless for the temporary. What earthly treasure could possibly equal the value of your soul?

Every day we face this choice. Will we grab what glitters now, or trust God’s promise of something far greater? The Son of Man will return, and His accounting will be perfect.

The marshmallow test continues. The question remains: Can you wait for heaven’s reward?

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

Matthew 17:1-9 paints a breathtaking scene that we call the Transfiguration. 

That is a big word, but it is a time when Peter, James, and John climb a mountain with Jesus and see Him as they’ve never seen Him before. His face shines like the sun, His clothes blaze with light, and suddenly Moses and Elijah appear, talking with Him. Heaven has touched earth.

Peter, overwhelmed, tries to capture the moment—“Let’s build three shelters!” But before he can finish, a bright cloud overshadows them and a voice speaks: “This is My beloved Son… listen to Him!” Then, as quickly as it began, the vision fades. Moses is gone. Elijah is gone. The cloud lifts. And the disciples, lifting their trembling faces, see “no one but Jesus.”

That is a story for all of us! Glorious moments rise and fade. People come and go. Even mountain-top experiences with God aren’t meant to last forever. But when the light dims and the crowds disperse, Jesus remains.

In the end, He is enough. When life changes, when dreams shift, when the mountaintop becomes a valley, lift your eyes! You will find what they found: Jesus, and Jesus alone.

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

Our reading for the day is Luke 2:52.

“Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.”

Such a short verse, but I pause on the word grew. Jesus grew! 

The Son of God, Creator of heaven and earth, once had to learn how to walk. He stumbled as a toddler. He asked questions in the synagogue. He learned Joseph’s carpenter trade one patient stroke at a time.

Why does that matter? 

Because it tells us He understands what it is to be human. Jesus didn’t skip the process. He didn’t arrive in full strength, teaching in the temple as an adult. He submitted to the slow rhythm of human life—days of learning, waiting, and maturing.

For us, this is hope. Growth takes time. Maybe you feel behind, or frustrated that your faith isn’t stronger, your patience isn’t deeper, your heart isn’t holier. Remember, even Jesus walked the road of growth.

God does His best work in the slow seasons. Growth isn’t instant—it’s step by step, prayer by prayer, choice by choice.

Take heart. Trust the process. The One who grew in Nazareth now walks with you in your own journey of growth.

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

Our reading for today is Matthew 16:24.

Then Jesus told His disciples, “If anyone wants to come after Me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow Me.

Did you catch that “If?” That one little word makes all the difference. Discipleship isn’t forced—it’s chosen. Jesus doesn’t twist your arm. He invites. He never shouted orders down the road, never yanked people by the collar. Instead, He simply said, “If anyone wants to…”

And then He waits. 

He knows the cost for discipleship, and so He lays it out plainly: “He must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow Me.” Discipleship isn’t a walk in the park. It’s a path marked by surrender and selflessness. Crosses aren’t decorative. They’re heavy. But they’re also the doorway to something deeper—something eternal.

Still, Jesus doesn’t pressure. He respects your choice. He values your yes, but He honors your freedom to say no.

Following Jesus won’t make you richer or more popular. But it will fill your soul with purpose, your heart with hope, and your days with direction—for now and eternity.

He doesn’t shout. He whispers, “If you want to…” And then He leaves the decision to you.

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

In Matthew 16, Jesus revealed the unthinkable to his disciples. He told them that He must suffer, die, and rise again. Peter’s response? “Never, Lord! This will never happen to you!”

Can you hear the desperation in his voice? The fierce loyalty? Peter wasn’t being rebellious; he was being protective. He loved Jesus too much to let Him walk toward suffering.

But Peter’s protest was powered by human wisdom, not heavenly truth. And friends, we do the same thing.

Jesus whispers, “Love your enemies,” and we whisper back, “But Lord, you don’t know what they did to me.” 

He says, “Forgive seventy times seven,” and we counter, “Surely there’s a limit to forgiveness.”

He commands, “Don’t worry about tomorrow,” and we respond, “Easy for you to say.”

Like Peter, our hearts mean well. We love Jesus. We want to follow Him. But when His words challenge our comfort zones, we suddenly become His advisors rather than His disciples.

Here’s what Peter forgot that day—and what we often forget too: Jesus sees what we cannot see. His perspective spans eternity while ours barely covers next Tuesday.

The very thing Peter tried to prevent became our salvation. The cross he rejected became our hope.

So when Jesus asks the hard things, to love, forgive, and trust. He’s not asking because it’s easy. He’s asking because it’s right. And He’s always right.

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

Our Bible Reading today is Mark 8:22-25

Some people brought a blind man and begged Jesus to touch him. So He took the blind man by the hand and led him out of the village. Then He spit on the man’s eyes and placed His hands on him. “Can you see anything?” He asked. 

The man looked up and said, “I can see the people, but they look like trees walking around.”

Once again Jesus placed His hands on the man’s eyes, and when he opened them his sight was restored, and he could see everything clearly.

The blind man was led by hand to Jesus. Jesus touched his eyes once, and the man saw… but imperfectly. Blurry silhouettes. Fuzzy outlines. It’s the only recorded miracle where healing came in phases.

Why the delay? Not because Jesus lacked power. Perhaps the man lacked readiness. Maybe faith needed time to bloom. So Jesus touched him again. And this time, clarity flooded in. The Greek word implies sharp, perfect sight. The second touch transformed partial healing into full restoration.

There’s a parable in that pause. How often do we settle for spiritual blur? We attend church, read Scripture, whisper prayers—yet still live half-sighted. Jesus doesn’t want you living life in fuzzy outlines. His healing is not cosmetic; it’s deep, thorough, and soul-reordering.

So if you’ve seen—but not clearly… believed—but not boldly… followed—but not fully—maybe it’s time. Time to let Jesus affect you again. Because when He does, you won’t just see—you’ll see perfectly.

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

Our Bible reading comes from Matthew 16:5-6.

When they crossed to the other side, the disciples forgot to take bread. “Watch out!” Jesus told them. “Beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees.”

The following verses reveal how completely the disciples missed Jesus’ meaning. They assumed He was concerned about lunch—the bread they’d forgotten to pack. It’s almost amusing, yet painfully relatable. How often do we become consumed with surface concerns while missing life’s deeper truths?

During my college summers, I worked at a steel foundry—demanding work, but enjoyable. One day, a coworker observed, “You act like you own this place.” Without hesitation, I replied, “I don’t, but my Father does.” He laughed and called out to the others, “This kid says his father owns the foundry!” He had no idea I meant my Heavenly Father.

Returning to our passage: Jesus wasn’t offering baking tips. He was issuing a warning about dangerous influences. The “leaven” symbolized the insidious, spreading nature of the religious leaders’ unbelief and hypocrisy. Yet the disciples remained fixated on their empty lunch basket.

We must distinguish between the physical and the spiritual. While we rightfully pray about finances and health, we must not miss the deeper call: “Guard your heart. Pay attention to what’s molding your soul.” “Watch out!”

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

Our reading for today is Matthew 16:1.

“Then the Pharisees and Sadducees came and tested Jesus by asking Him to show them a sign from heaven.”

At first reading, this seems like a reasonable request. They were asking, “Jesus, show us a sign that you are who you say you are.” How could this seem unreasonable. Well, here is a short list of some miracles that they already seen: He had calmed a storm, cast out demons, healed a paralyzed man, raised the dead, fed 5,000, and even walked on water. Now do you see how silly they were to ask him for another sign? They had all the signs they needed, but there are none so blind as those who will not see. 

Their hearts weren’t really searching. They weren’t lacking evidence—they were lacking honesty. They weren’t blind because they hadn’t seen enough. They were blind because they didn’t want to see.

That’s the danger of a hardened heart. When your mind is already made up, no miracle will ever be enough. You’ll just keep demanding more signs, more proof, more reasons to believe.

Sometimes we’re just like those Pharisees. We say, “God, if You really love me, show me a sign.” But maybe the real question is, are we ready to see what He’s already done?

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

Our reading for today is Luke 4:33-35

In the synagogue there was a man possessed by the spirit of an unclean demon. He cried out in a loud voice, “Ha! What do You want with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have You come to destroy us? I know who You are—the Holy One of God!”

But Jesus rebuked the demon. “Be silent!” He said. “Come out of him!” At this, the demon threw the man down before them all and came out without harming him.

In this story, the spirit obeyed Jesus–not because it wanted to, but because it had to. Even evil knows that resisting Jesus leads nowhere good. And what happened to the man? Though he was thrown down, he was left unharmed. That’s a message for us too. When we encounter Jesus, he makes us better than he found us.

Sometimes Jesus calls us to do things that feel hard–letting go of bitterness, choosing humility, turning the other cheek. These choices can feel hard. But when Jesus speaks, He speaks to heal, restore, and free. Even when obeying Jesus feels risky, painful, or confusing, it never is the wrong thing to do. Jesus never asks us to do something that isn’t for our good.

So don’t doubt Him. Do what He says. Trust His voice. Obedience to Jesus always leads to the right path. Always.

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

Our text is John 6:14-15.

When the people saw the sign that Jesus had performed, they began to say, “Truly this is the Prophet who is to come into the world.” Then Jesus, realizing that they were about to come and make Him king by force, withdrew again to a mountain by Himself.

Jesus fed the five thousand, and their bellies were full. Their eyes were wide with wonder. “Surely this is the Prophet!” they declared. What do they want to do? Crown him king. Right here, right now. No cross, no suffering, no waiting.

Sound familiar? It should. It echoes across the wilderness where Satan dangled the same carrot to Jesus: “All this can be yours,” Satan promised. Skip the agony. Bypass the grave. Take the shortcut to glory.

“But Jesus knew better. He rejected the shortcut, choosing instead the ministry that, though longer and more difficult, was the only path to true victory.”

The crowd saw bread and wanted a bread king. Jesus saw souls and chose the cross. The people pushed for shortcuts; Jesus walked the long road to Calvary.

We’re no different, are we? We rush to buy books like “The Four-Hour Work Week” and “Think and Grow Rich.” We chase shortcuts in marriage, parenting, and faith. Quick fixes instead of hard work. Easy answers instead of wrestling with life. But shortcuts rob us of character, depth, and the very growth God intends. His longer road always leads home.

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

When Jesus heard of John’s death, sorrow settled in His spirit. He didn’t rush to preach or perform miracles—He withdrew, seeking silence. Matthew 14:13 reveals a tender truth: “He withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place.” Grief pressed heavy on the Savior’s heart. John wasn’t just a prophet—he was family. The loss was personal.

Yet the crowds came, needy and unrelenting. And when Jesus saw them, His grief didn’t harden His heart. “He had compassion on them and healed their sick” (v.14). Pain didn’t pause His purpose—it deepened it.

This is the grace of Christ: wounded, but willing; sorrowful, yet still serving. He didn’t discard grief to move forward—He carried it and answered the call. Because healing often begins when we step into the “next,” not away from it.

Elijah knew this, too. After fleeing Jezebel and collapsing under weariness, God fed him. But when the provision ceased, God whispered: it’s time to move on. Whether you’re facing loss or a new beginning, don’t fear your “next.” It may be exactly where God’s greatest work begins.

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

When Jesus looked out at the crowds in Matthew 9:36, He saw more than just faces. He saw hearts—tired, confused, searching. The Bible says, 

“He was moved with compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” 

The people weren’t bad. They were just lost.

God’s people are often called “sheep.” Sheep are gentle, but they lose their way easily. Without a shepherd, they are in danger. They might fall, get stuck, or be attacked. They need the shepherd’s voice and touch to guide them and keep them safe.

Jesus saw the crowds and felt that longing for someone to lead, love, and protect them. It wasn’t just about them having rules to follow, but about needing someone to care for their souls. Jesus understood their wandering—He knew they were worn out from trying to find hope on their own in empty places.

Today, we’re not much different. Sometimes we feel lost, too. We try to find our way on our own, but the world can be scary. Jesus, as a good shepherd, sees our fear and loneliness. He opens His arms and says, “Come to me. I’ll lead you home.” No one is too lost for Him to find.

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