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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.

Our devotional thought comes from Mark 8:18-19.

“Do you not remember? When I broke the five loaves for the five thousand, how many basketfuls of broken pieces did you collect?”

It’s easy to shake our heads at the disciples. They stood right there, witnessing bread multiply in Jesus’ hands, yet fear still crept in when the next need arose. We wonder how they could forget so quickly. But if we’re honest, we do the same thing.

God comes through for us in ways we couldn’t predict. Bills get paid when the numbers didn’t add up. Peace finds us when anxiety threatens to swallow us whole. A word of encouragement lands at just the right moment, as if God Himself whispered into someone’s ear on our behalf. But when the next crisis comes knocking, all those successes fade from memory.

Jesus asked the disciples a pointed question—“Do you not remember?” That question still echoes today. Our fear doesn’t stem from God’s inability, but from our forgetfulness. When we lose sight of how He’s provided before, we start to believe this time might be different.

The remedy for fear isn’t more wonders. It’s a better memory. Remembering what God has already done rewrites the story we tell ourselves about what’s possible today.

Take a moment. Recall His faithfulness. Trust grows when we remember what God has already done.

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

Jesus had a way of making the profound feel personal. He didn’t lecture on theology—He told stories that hit home. One of those lessons is found in the question Jesus asked in Matthew 7:9.

“Which of you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone?”

You might answer that none would. A loving parent wouldn’t play a cruel joke on a hungry child.

God is our loving parent. Too often we question God’s goodness? When life disappoints us, when prayers seem unanswered, we wonder if God is holding back on us. With this question Jesus reminds us that if flawed, earthly parents know how to give good gifts, then surely our perfect heavenly father gives much more.

God isn’t stingy. He isn’t playing tricks. He doesn’t give stones when we need bread. The problem is, we sometimes mistake His answers. What we see as a “stone” might actually be the foundation for something greater. What feels like a “no” might be a “not yet” or a “something better is coming.”

God’s goodness isn’t measured by how often He gives us what we want, but by how perfectly He gives us what we need. He sees the bigger picture. He knows the whole story. And in His kindness, He provides exactly what will nourish our souls—even when we don’t recognize it at first.

So trust Him. When you pray, know that your Father is good. And He never gives stones.

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

In our text today, Jesus is on His way to Jerusalem. The crowd is noisy, the road is busy, and the weight of what awaits Him at the cross is already resting on His heart. He is headed to the crucifixion, but even with all of that, He stops as he sees two blind men sitting beside the road. 

Matthew 20:32, the Bible tells us:

Jesus stopped and called them. “What do you want Me to do for you?” He asked.

There is something tender about that moment. He stopped not for a powerful ruler or a religious leader. Not for someone of wealth or influence. Jesus stops for two blind men sitting along the roadside, men that most would have walked past without a second glance.

Jesus notices the overlooked. He always has. It’s in His nature. He saw Zacchaeus clinging to a sycamore tree. He saw the woman who touched the hem of His robe in a crowded street. And here, He hears the cries of two men others tried to silence. Their voices mattered to Him. Their pain mattered to Him.

This is the heart of our Savior. While the world values noise and fame, Jesus never loses sight of the ones others ignore. The quiet prayers, the hidden struggles, the silent tears — they all catch His attention.

Maybe you’ve felt invisible. Maybe you’ve wondered if God even notices the prayers you whisper at night. Take heart. The same Jesus who stopped for two blind men on a dusty road stops for you. He notices you. He hears you. And He calls you to come near.

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

Our devotional thought today comes from Matthew 18:33.

Jesus asks the question:
“Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant, just as I had on you?”

Those words come straight from the mouth of a king in one of Jesus’ parables. The king had shown mercy to a servant drowning in debt, erasing what could never be repaid. But that same servant turned around and refused to show even a sliver of kindness to someone who owed him far less. It’s a sobering story, a clear reminder that God’s mercy to us is meant to flow through us.

God’s forgiveness isn’t a suggestion we can take or leave. It’s a calling, a way of life. Every time we pray the familiar words, “forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors,” we’re signing up for that very thing. We’re asking God to measure His mercy toward us with the same yardstick we use for others.

That’s humbling, isn’t it? Who among us hasn’t held on to an old wound just a little longer than we should have? Who hasn’t rationed out forgiveness like it was scarce, even though God pours it out on us with heaven’s abundance? Jesus knew our tendency to cling tight to offenses, which is why He told this parable. Forgiveness doesn’t always come easy. It’s rarely deserved. But it’s exactly what God expects from His people.

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