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Our text for today is Psalms 31:16

“Make Your face shine on Your servant; save me by Your loving devotion.”

I love this prayer, “Make your face shine” upon me. When David asks God to make His face shine on him, he’s using language rooted in blessing. This echoes the priestly blessing from Numbers 6:25: “The LORD make His face shine upon you…” It speaks of favor, acceptance, and divine attention.

We all still feel that way. We want God to shine his face on us. I heard the story of a little five-year-old girl who was telling her mother a story. Mother was very busy, as mothers usually are. The mother continues to listen as she goes about her work. The little girl chides her mother, “Mom, I want you to listen.” As any good mother would do, she assures her little girl that she is listening. The little girls, responds with “I want you to listen with your eyes.”

Listen with your eyes is what David is asking God to do. He longed for God to listen, not with a part of His attention, but with His full attention on David. It gives us strength to know that we have a God who turns his face toward us.

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

Our devotional thought comes from Psalm 28:1.

“To You, O LORD, I call; be not silent to me. If You remain silent, I will be like those who descend to the Pit.”

There are moments in life when heaven feels like a closed door. You pray, and nothing stirs. You plead, and the skies remain still. David felt it too. He cried out to God, not in casual conversation, but in desperation. “Be not silent to me,” he pleads. He wasn’t just longing for comfort—he was longing for proof that he hadn’t been abandoned.

But here’s the truth David clung to: silence is not the same as absence. Just because God is quiet doesn’t mean He’s gone. Like a parent watching a child take their first steps, sometimes God steps back—not out of neglect, but out of trust. He’s still present. Still watching and still loving.

Faith that only sings when the sun is shining hasn’t learned to dance in the dark. But David’s faith teaches us this: we can keep calling, keep believing, even when the only reply is silence. That kind of faith is precious. It’s the faith that trusts God’s heart when we can’t trace His hand.

So if today feels quiet, don’t despair. The God who seemed silent in the tomb was already preparing resurrection.

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

The Devotional Thought for Today: Psalm 19:14

“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in Your sight, O LORD, my rock and my Redeemer.”

Some verses feel like a whisper we want to carry in our pocket all day. This is one of them. It’s not just a prayer—it’s a posture. David is opening both his mouth and his heart to God and saying, “Let what comes from me be pleasing to You.”

Think about that for a moment. Most of us are careful about our words when others are watching. We measure what we say. We try to be polite. But David goes deeper—he wants even his thoughts, those hidden meditations that never reach the ears of others, to be pleasing to the Lord.

That kind of prayer requires honesty. Because who among us hasn’t had bitter thoughts that never left our lips? Who hasn’t smiled politely while our hearts grumbled silently? David is asking God to shine His light on both arenas—what is heard and what is hidden.

If you’re like me, this hits right where it counts. It’s a reminder that God doesn’t just care about how we behave—He cares about who we’re becoming!

So today, take a moment before you speak. Take a moment before you stew in your thoughts. Whisper this prayer: “Lord, let this be pleasing to You.”

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

The Devotional Thought for Today: Psalm 17:6.

“I call on You, O God, for You will answer me. Incline Your ear to me; hear my words.”

Sometimes we don’t need a long prayer—we just need a real one. David’s words in this verse are short, but they run deep. He isn’t just speaking into the air. He believes Someone is truly listening. And not just anyone—he’s calling on God, the One who made the heavens, yet leans in close when His children speak.

“I call on You” reminds us that prayer is not about the right formula, but about the right focus. David isn’t looking around for help from people or power or plans. He’s calling on the One who has answered before and will answer again. There’s confidence here: “You will answer me.” Not “maybe.” Not “if You’re in the mood.” This is the voice of someone who has a history with God and carries the scars—and stories—of prayers answered in the past.

Then comes the beautiful image: “Incline Your ear to me.” Can you see it? David believes that God is bending down to listen. Like a father cupping his hand to hear his little boy. Like a mother turning from a noisy room to catch her daughter’s soft voice. That’s what God does when we pray. He leans in.

And David closes with a simple request: “hear my words.” He’s not performing. He’s not dressing up his prayer. He just wants to be heard.

And don’t we all? In a world of noise, silence, and busy hearts, one of our deepest need is to be heard. And David tells us God leans in when His children speak.

So today, don’t worry about the length of your prayer. Or the eloquence. Or if you’ve got it all together. Just speak. He’s listening.

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

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 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.

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.