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Our reading for today is Matthew 4:7.

“Jesus replied, ‘It is also written: Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’”

Jesus was reaching back to Deuteronomy 6:16, where Moses reminded Israel, “Do not test the Lord your God as you tested Him at Massah.” Do you remember Massah? The people were thirsty. Their mouths were dry, their hearts were fearful, and instead of remembering the God who parted seas and rained down bread, they looked at their need and doubted His presence. They asked, “Is the Lord among us or not?” (Exodus 17:7).

That is the meaning of testing God—demanding proof when His promises should be enough. It’s like putting God on trial. “Lord, I’ll believe You, but only if You do this for me.”

But real faith doesn’t bargain. Real faith trusts. Jesus understood this when Satan dared Him to jump from the temple roof. He wouldn’t play games with His Father’s love. He didn’t need another sign. He had His Father’s word, and that was enough.

And isn’t that where we struggle too? We whisper, “Lord, if You fix this, then I’ll trust You.” But faith doesn’t wait for conditions to be met. Faith stands on God’s word even when the circumstances are dry.

Trust Him. Don’t test Him.

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

Our Bible reading from Jesus is John 13:34-35

“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.”

A father once received a call no parent wants: his son was in jail. As he headed out the door, a neighbor muttered, “If he were my kid, I’d leave him there.” The father replied, “If he were your kid, I would too.”

Love changes everything.

It’s easy to critique from a distance. Easy to say, “My kids will never…” until your toddler throws a tantrum in aisle five. Love doesn’t make us blind—it makes us merciful. It sees the mess and chooses grace.

Peter knew this. He wrote, “Love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins.” (1 Peter 4:8)

Love covers. Not ignores. Not excuses. But covers—with patience, with forgiveness, with hope.

Parents thrive when love covers. Spouses endure when love covers. Friendships heal when love covers.

Read that verse again. This time, pause after “covers.”
“Love each other deeply, because love covers…”

Yes, it does. Love covers the broken promises, the sharp words, the long nights. Love covers… whatever.

And that, dear friend, is how we live together in grace.

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

Quoting Jesus: Matthew 5:14.

“You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden.”

This can be hard. The preacher’s Sunday began with a missed alarm and a coffeemaker that forgot its calling. He stumbled into the day, shirt half-buttoned, heart half-ready. Then came the thump-thump of a flat tire, the smear of grease on his collar, and the flashing lights of a patrol car after a missed stop sign.

“License and registration,” the officer said.

The preacher grumbled, fumbling through frustration.

The officer smiled gently. “I know how you feel. I used to have days like that, before I met Jesus.”

Ouch.

It’s easy to shine when the sun is out and the coffee is hot. But what about when the tire’s flat and the patience is thinner than the preacher’s tie? That’s when the verse from Matthew 5, whispers its challenge: “Let your light so shine before men.”

God doesn’t ask for perfection. He asks for presence. He doesn’t expect us to float through life untouched by traffic tickets and tangled mornings. But He does invite us to respond with grace. To let our light flicker, even when the wind howls.

So today, if your coffee’s cold and your plans unravel, remember: your light matters most when the darkness tries hardest.

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

Quoting Jesus – Matthew 4:4

Jesus stepped into the wilderness. Forty days without food. His stomach empty. That’s when Satan showed up. Not with horns and a pitchfork, but with a whisper: “Turn these stones into bread.” A simple fix. A shortcut. A temptation tailored to the moment.

But Jesus didn’t reach for bread. He reached for Scripture.

“It is written,” He said. Not “I feel,” not “I think,” but “It is written.” The Word of God was His weapon. His shield. His sustenance.

“Man shall not live by bread alone.” Bread fills the belly, but not the soul. We need more than carbs; we need God’s Word.

He continued, “But by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” That’s our nourishment. That’s our strength. That’s our hope.

And notice when Satan came: when Jesus was hungry. Weak. Vulnerable. That’s his strategy. He doesn’t tempt us when we’re strong. He waits until we’re vulnerable. Then he whispers.

But don’t let him win. When temptation knocks, answer with truth. When weakness creeps in, lean on the Word. Remember, God’s promises are stronger than Satan’s lies.

You’re not alone in the wilderness. The Word walks with you.

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

Our reading for today is Matthew 6:33-34.

“Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow…”

We love the verse. We frame it, quote it, underline it. But when the pantry is bare and the bills stack high, it feels more like a distant hope than a present comfort.

Habakkuk knew that feeling. He said, “Though the fig tree does not bud… though the fields produce no food… yet I will rejoice in the Lord.”

That’s not denial. That’s defiance—holy defiance. A soul that says, “I will trust, even when I cannot trace.”

I’m older now. I’ve seen God show up in ways I never expected. But I’ve also felt the silence. The ache. The “My God, why have You forsaken me?” moments.

Even Thomas doubted. Even Jesus cried out. 

So what about you? What storm are you facing? What fig tree refuses to blossom?

You may not choose your storm, but you can choose your stance. Choose joy. Choose trust. Choose to say, “Yet I will rejoice.”

Because the struggle is temporary, the kingdom is eternal. And the King? He’s already working on your tomorrow.

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

In John 11, Jesus stood before the grave of His friend. The stone was still in place. The grief was fresh, the loss still raw. Lazarus had been gone four days. The air was heavy with sorrow and death.

“Take away the stone,” Jesus said.

Martha hesitated. Her words carried both love and doubt: “But, Lord… by this time there is a bad odor.”

Did she think He didn’t know? Or was it just too big to believe? Sometimes we’re like Martha. We long for God to work, but the problem smells too bad, feels too far gone. We remind Him of the impossibility—as if He needs reminding.

Jesus answered, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”

Then came the miracle. With a loud voice He called, “Lazarus, come out!” And the dead man came—still wrapped in grave clothes but alive.

We remember that God said he is still “able to do far more abundantly beyond all that we ask or think” (Ephesians 3:20). Yet how often do we not ask… or even think?

The world may doubt. Some believers may hesitate. But we serve a God whose compassions never fail, whose faithfulness is new every morning. The stone still moves. The dead still rise. And the glory of God still shines. You can count on it!

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

Our reading today is Matthew 20:28.

“The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many.”

Ransom is a tender word. To ransom is to redeem, a buying back, a restoring of something precious at a price. The Savior didn’t arrive with royal fanfare or demanding a throne. He came with the gentle hands of a servant, giving all for our redemption.

There is a story told of a little boy and his treasured toy boat. He spent months building, carving, and shaping it. His fingerprints pressed upon every inch. When it was ready, he set it afloat on the river. Delighting in his creation, he would watch, then retrieve the boat and start all over. One day, the waters swept it away. The boat was lost, and the boy’s heart ached.

Days passed. He spotted his boat in the window of a resale store. Joy mixed with longing. “That’s my boat!” he told the shopkeeper. But shopkeeper told him he’d have to pay to get it back. With determined steps, he brought his savings, paid the price, and with boat in hand said, “You are mine twice—once, because I made you; twice, because I bought you back.”

That is our story? Crafted by God, lost, and pursued. Finally, eedeemed, bought back by Jesus. 

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

Our reading for today is about the Prodigal Son.

“Finally he came to his senses and said, ‘How many of my father’s hired servants have plenty of food, and here I am starving to death! I will get up and go back to my father’… So he got up and went to his father.”

You know his story. A young man with a pocketful of cash and a head full of dreams leaves home, only to find himself knee-deep in regret and empty pockets. But before we shake our heads at his foolishness, let’s pause to see the one thing he did exactly right.

In the midst of his mess, Luke says, “He came to himself.” That’s more than self-awareness—it’s soul-awareness. He realized where he was and where he needed to be. Then came the words, “I will get up and go to my father.” And he did. He didn’t put it on next week’s calendar. He didn’t wait for better weather. He arose and went.

Indecision is the thief of opportunity. Maybe you’ve been circling a choice, knowing deep down what God is calling you to do. Don’t wait for perfect conditions. Don’t stall until the courage comes. At least in this one area, be like the Prodigal son, do it now!

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

Half a century ago, when I first heard the phrase, “Life begins at 80,” it meant less to me than it does now that I am 80. This was the story of Moses and how his real story began when he was an old man. But maybe it began long before. Was it when his mother placed him in the Nile? When he grew up in Pharaoh’s palace? Or when he fled Egypt after killing an Egyptian? No!

Moses’ story began in the heart of God. He looked down on His people—broken, enslaved, crying out—and decided to send a deliverer. Among six hundred thousand Israelites, there were surely strong leaders, gifted speakers, bold warriors. But God chose a shepherd who had been hiding for forty years. A man slow with words, reluctant to lead, and quick with excuses.

Four times, Moses told God why he couldn’t do the job. Four times God answered. Finally, Moses simply said, “Please send someone else” (Exodus 4:13). But God didn’t.

Why? Because God isn’t looking for the most impressive résumé. He’s looking for a willing heart—even if it starts out unwilling.

Moses didn’t choose the task. The task chose him. And somewhere along the way, in the middle of fear and resistance, his life began at 80.

Maybe God is calling you a work. Maybe you’ve been ignoring Him. Maybe you’re waiting until you’re “ready.” Don’t. Whatever your age—30, 50, or 80—your story can begin today. And the best part? You won’t go alone. God will walk with you as he did with Moses.

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

Our reading today is Luke 14:13:

“When you host a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind, and you will be blessed.”

Years ago, Liz and I had a little game. We called it “Who Would You Invite?” The rules were simple: If you could invite anyone from history to dinner, who would it be? There was one catch—no Bible characters. Otherwise, the table would always fill with God, Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. So we left room for George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, maybe and Albert Einstein. It was harmless fun, the kind you play with a smile.

But time has a way of changing the game.

If I played it today, my list would be different. Now, it would be my wife of 55 years, my brother and his wife Sherry, and their son, my dear friend Doug. That would be a wonderful meal, but now they’re all waiting for me in eternity. 

There’s a saying I love: “Every day is a ‘good old day’ when you have enough faith to realize it.” Today counts. So does the dinner you share tonight, no matter who’s at your table.

And as for the feast that awaits us? That one won’t be here. It’ll be when we get Home.

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