Today’s question comes from Job 1:8.

“Have you considered my servant Job?”

It wasn’t a question asked about Job. It was a declaration for him. God was speaking to Satan, pointing to Job with the pride of a Father. “There’s my servant. Look at him. He walks with Me. He turns from evil. He trusts Me.”

Job didn’t hear that conversation. He didn’t know he was being noticed. He didn’t see God’s spotlight shining on his faith. He just woke up one day and everything started falling apart.

The Loss. The Pain. The Silence from God. Job surely didn’t understand.

But behind the scenes, God had considered Job. Not to punish—but to prove. God saw strength in Job that even Job didn’t know was there. The kind of faith that holds on even when the lights go out.

Here is the great truth in this story: God saw Job’s faith before Satan’s test. Job’s faith was not born in the pain. It was exposed in the pain. God sees your faith too!

Maybe your world feels like Job’s right now—shaken, shattered, confused. You wonder, “Why?” You haven’t heard the answer. But don’t miss the truth: God sees you. He considers you. And He may be using your faith as a testimony.

So, walk on. You are not forgotten. You are fully known and still chosen.

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

God’s question for today comes from Job 40:2.
“Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct Him?”


My wife of 55 years died. My only brother died. My best friend died of cancer. Though they died months apart, it seemed like it was all in the same week. I was tired of death. There was nothing I could do. Sometimes life doesn’t make sense. The good suffer. The wicked seem to win. Prayers go unanswered. In our confusion, we may feel tempted to raise a fist toward heaven and ask, “Why, God?”

Consider the case of Job. He lost everything—his family, his health, his security. In his grief, he began to question the fairness of it all. Then God responded—not with explanations, but with questions. Piercing, soul-searching questions like this one: “Will the one who contends with the Almighty correct Him?”
It wasn’t scolding. It was an invitation. A reminder. We are not God. We see through the years; He sees through eternity. His ways are higher, His wisdom deeper, His justice perfect.

God wasn’t offended by Job’s questions. He welcomed Job’s honesty. But He also re-centered the conversation. Not around Job’s suffering—but around God’s sovereignty.

There’s comfort in that. If we had to understand everything to trust Him, we never would. Faith doesn’t mean we stop asking. It just means we start trusting—especially when we don’t understand the answers.

Lay down your case today. Let God be God. He can handle your hurt, and He alone can heal your heart. As the sons says, you will understand it all by and by.

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

God’s question for today comes from Exodus 4:11.

The Lord said to him, “Who gave man his mouth?”

God called Moses to tell the Pharaoh to let God’s people go. Moses had a heart full of hesitation. “I can’t speak well,” he said. “I’m not eloquent.” “Please, send someone else.” I just want to say, “Excuses, excuses.”

Maybe you’ve said something similar. I’m too shy. Too broken. Too slow. Too… something.

But God interrupts our excuses with a question that cuts straight to the heart.

“Who gave man his mouth?”

It’s more than a question—it’s a reminder. A reminder that God made you. He knows your voice, your flaws, your fears—and still, He calls you. Not because you’re perfect, but because He is. He doesn’t need polished vessels. He just needs open ones.

This isn’t just about Moses’ tongue. It’s about your hands, your feet, your story. God says, “I know what I put in you. I know how I wired you. And I will be with you.”

Where do you feel unqualified today? What task feels too big?

Hear God’s whisper: “I made you. And I’ll help you.”

Don’t let your limitations speak louder than God’s calling.

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

Our verse for today is Jonah 4:4.

“But the Lord replied, ‘Have you any right to be angry?'”

The city of Nineveh was spared. But Jonah? He was angry. How dare God show mercy to those people? God went to Jonah as he sat beneath a withering vine, and asked a question for all times: “Have you any right to be angry?”

We’ve all been angry and so we know that anger feels justified when it visits us. Anger arrives with proof that presents a compelling case. “Look what they did,” it whispers. “You have every right to be upset.”

But anger is a dangerous houseguest in your heart. Before long, your heart—once a place of kindness—becomes a courtroom where you serve as judge, jury, and executioner.

So what should we do when anger knocks at our heart?

Here are four quick steps to calm an angry heart:

1. Pause and breathe. Count to ten—or a thousand if needed. Give yourself space to think before reacting.

2. Consider the consequences. Ask yourself: What will this anger cost me? Will it hurt someone I care about?

3. Seek God’s wisdom. Don’t just read Scripture to check a box—read it to hear from God, especially when emotions run high.

4. Talk to someone. Find someone trustworthy. Not just anyone, but someone who listens well and helps you see clearly. Someone wise.

In the end, remember Ecclesiastes 7:9. It says:“Anger settles in the lap of fools.”

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

Our text for today is from 1 Kings 19:9.

“But the word of the Lord came to him: ‘What are you doing here, Elijah?'”*

Fresh off a mountain-top victory, Elijah had seen fire fall from heaven. He stood firm against hundreds of false prophets, watched the people fall face down in worship, and felt the wind of revival stir the air. But the thrill didn’t last. One threat from Jezebel, and fear found its way into his soul.

He ran. Far into the wilderness. Past the cheering crowds and the memory of triumph. He collapsed beneath a broom tree and begged God to take his life. Then, farther still—into a cave. Hiding. Numb. Spent.

That’s where God met him. Not with a shout. Not with a sermon. But with a question.

“What are you doing here, Elijah?”

God wasn’t seeking directions. He was seeking Elijah’s heart. And He still does the same today.

When we run out of strength… When the fire dies down and fear flares up… God leans in with a whisper, not a wagging finger. “What are you doing here?” It’s not condemnation. It’s a gentle call to come out of hiding.

Maybe today, that question is for you. Not to expose you—but to invite you. Into rest. Into grace. Into the presence of a God who still speaks in whispers.

Let Him meet you there.

What Is That in Your Hand?

God’s question for today is from Exodus 4:2.

Then the Lord said to him, “What is that in your hand?”

In his hand, Moses had a stick. That’s all. A shepherd’s staff—ordinary, unimpressive, simple.

But in God’s hands, it parted seas, struck rocks, and showed His glory.

We often think we need more to serve God. More talent, more resources, more confidence. In the midst of all this, God asks a simple question: “What is that in your hand?”

He doesn’t ask what you wish you had. He asks what you do have.

A gift. A skill. A story. A moment.

God delights in using what’s already there—ordinary things for extraordinary purposes. The staff didn’t become powerful until Moses laid it down and let God use it.

Take inventory today. What’s in your hand? What gift, opportunity, or resource has God already given you? Offer it to Him, and you will be amazed at what you can do.

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

God’s question for today comes from Genesis 18:14.

“Is anything too hard for the Lord?”

Skeptics love to think up things that God cannot do. They ask, “Can God dig a hole so deep that he can’t get out of it,” or “Can God build a mountain so tall he can’t leap over it.” They ask these and other nonsense questions. 

Sarah was no skeptic but when God told her that at 90 she would have a child, Sarah laughed. 

Not out loud, but quietly in her heart. The promise of a child felt impossible. She was old. Her body had long stopped working the way it once had. Her hope had dried up like a desert.

She needed God’s question:

“Is anything too hard for the Lord?”

It wasn’t a rebuke—it was a reminder. God’s promises are not limited by our age, our logic, or our doubts. He doesn’t need the odds to be in His favor. He is the One who created time, breath, and bodies. And He still delights in doing the impossible.

We all have situations that feel too far gone. Prayers that feel too old. Dreams that seem dead. But the same question still whispers: Is anything too hard for the Lord?

Of course not. Simply trust Him.

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

Adam and Eve ate the fruit they were told to leave alone. Suddenly, innocence slipped away. They covered themselves with fig leaves and hid in the trees. When they admitted their fear, God asked them,  

“Who told you that you were naked?”  

– Genesis 3:11

Notice, God didn’t first ask, “What have you done?” He asked, “Who have you listened to?”

Because before our feet ever move the wrong way, our hearts start believing the wrong voice. Adam had listened to a voice that planted fear and shame. We still do the same. Some voices speak truth. Others whisper lies that sound almost true—until they leave us doubting God’s goodness.

Sin not only changes what we do; it changes how we see ourselves. Adam and Eve once saw themselves through God’s eyes—pure, beloved, enough. But now? Now they saw only shame. That’s what sin does. It doesn’t just wound us; it warps us. It makes us believe we are broken beyond repair.

Shame tells us to hide. God calls us to come close.

I love how God goes straight to the heart. He doesn’t begin with the broken command. He begins with the broken belief. 

And He still asks us today: Who told you that you were too far gone? Who told you that my love could run out?

Don’t listen to that voice. God is still calling.

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

God’s question for today comes from Genesis 4:9.

Then the Lord said to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?”

Cain had already crossed a line that should never be crossed. He murdered his brother. Even so, notice how God approaches him—not with a thunderclap, but with a question.

“Where is your brother?”

It wasn’t that God didn’t know. God always knows. He was offering Cain a chance. A chance to come clean. A chance to take responsibility. A chance, even now, to seek mercy. Sadly, Cain chose to hide behind denial.

That question hasn’t faded with time. It still echoes across the centuries. Where is your brother? Where is your sister?

Have you noticed their absence? Their tears? Their silent suffering? Are you your brother’s keeper? God seems to think so.

We are not called just to avoid doing harm. We are called to actively love. To see the ones who are easy to overlook. To reach out before it’s too late.

This question reminds us that it is not just about you. It is also about those around you.

Maybe there’s someone God has placed on your heart. Someone who feels forgotten. Someone whose burdens have gone unnoticed. Don’t brush off the nudge. Reach out. Call. Visit. Ask how they are.

Be your brother’s keeper today.

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

Our verse for today is Isaiah 55:2.

“Why spend money on that which is not bread, and your labor on that which does not satisfy? Listen carefully to Me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of foods.”

One of the Bible characters who illustrates this verse was King Solomon.

He had it all—wealth, wisdom, and fame. He built houses, planted vineyards, and surrounded himself with every pleasure money could buy. Yet in the end, he called it all “meaningless, a chasing after the wind.” He had everything people dream of, but it couldn’t fill the emptiness in his heart.

It’s easy to get caught up in the chase, isn’t it? We spend our days piling up possessions, chasing achievements, and seeking approval. We work hard. We fill our schedules. We fill our homes. We fill our closets. Yet somehow, deep inside, the hunger remains.

God sees us running, and He gently asks, “Why?”

Why pour your energy into what cannot nourish you? Why invest your life in things that leave you emptier than before?

He isn’t scolding us. He’s inviting us. “Listen carefully to Me,” He says. “Eat what is good.”

God sets a table that no earthly banquet can match. He offers peace for the restless, hope for the hurting, grace for the guilty, and love that never lets go. The richest of foods for the emptiest of hearts.

You don’t have to stay hungry. You don’t have to keep striving.

Sit at His table. Taste His goodness. Listen to His voice. Let your soul delight in what truly satisfies.

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

Our question for today comes from Genesis 4:6.

“Then the Lord said to Cain, ‘Why are you angry?'”

Cain had stumbled. His offering didn’t please God the way his brother’s did. And instead of asking, “What can I do better?” he turned his frustration toward Abel. His brother hadn’t caused the failure, but Cain’s heart found a target anyway.

God saw it all. The jealousy simmering. The hurt swelling. The rage crouching, ready to pounce. And before the dam broke, God leaned in with a question.

“Why are you angry?”

Not a lecture. Not a condemnation. Just a gentle, soul-piercing question. Why?

It wasn’t anger management Cain needed; it was heart management. God wasn’t trying to scold him—He was trying to save him. 

God’s next words are even more tender and powerful.

“If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you refuse to do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires you, but you must master it” (verse 7).

Sin crouches. Like a wild animal, it waits. It knows when we are weak, when we are tired, when we feel overlooked, or when we are angry. But God says, “You can master it.”

Not in your strength. Not by ignoring it. But by answering His question honestly and choosing to do right, even when anger claws at your heart.

Oh, Cain. Oh, us.

When anger knocks, don’t open the door. Open your heart instead. Talk to God. Try again. Choose the better way.

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

Our verse for today is Genesis 3:13.

Then the Lord God said to the woman, “What is this you have done?”

When my daughter was just four, she got into a little trouble—nothing serious, but enough for a gentle swat on the bottom. She cried, more from wounded feelings than pain. I walked out of the room, but something tugged at me. So I went back in and knelt beside her. “Sweetheart,” I asked, “do you know why I did that?” She sniffled, lifted her head, and said, “Yes… because you were mad at me.”

Ouch! That one cut deep. I wasn’t trying to punish—I was trying to correct. But her little heart misunderstood.

That moment helped me understand this question from God to Eve: “What is this you have done?” It wasn’t a courtroom interrogation. It wasn’t for information—God already knew. It was an invitation. An open door to self-awareness. A holy pause.

God doesn’t ask to shame. He asks to awaken. He wanted Eve to see—not just what she had done, but what it meant. The broken trust. The shift in the world. The crack in her own soul.

We’ve all been there. We’ve crossed lines, stepped outside of wisdom, followed our wants instead of God’s word. And in the quiet that follows, God still asks, “What have you done?” Not to scold, but to guide. Not to condemn, but to start the healing.

Today, take a moment to answer that question in your own life. Not with fear, but with faith. Because the God who asks is the same God who forgives.

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

Our text for today is Job 40:8.

“Would you discredit my justice? Would you condemn me to justify yourself?”

Life hurts. We lose a loved one. Our sickness drags on and on, even though we pray. In those times, we question God. We don’t mean to do it—we just want answers. Why the loss? Why the silence? Why the sorrow? And before we know it, our pain turns into a courtroom, and we’ve placed God on the stand.

That’s where Job found himself. Broken. Bruised. Baffled. And then comes the voice from the whirlwind, tender yet firm: “Would you condemn me to justify yourself?”

God wasn’t scolding Job for grieving. He was inviting him to trust. Not to explain the suffering, but to reframe it. To remember that heaven’s justice doesn’t sit under human judgment.

We don’t see the whole story. We catch glimpses—a doctor’s report, a lost job, an unanswered prayer. But God? He sees the beginning, the middle, and the end. His justice isn’t crooked. It’s just too wide for our eyes.

Job never got all the answers, but he found something better: the presence of God in the storm. And maybe that’s what we need, too. We need to remember the church song, “I don’t know about tomorrow, but I know who holds tomorrow.” When we really believe, that is enough.

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

Have you ever noticed the very first question God asked in the Bible? It’s found in Genesis 3:9—“Where are you?” Spoken to Adam after the fall, this wasn’t a question about geography. God knew exactly where Adam was. It was a question aimed at the heart. 

God was inviting Adam—and all of us—to step out of hiding. To face where we are, spiritually and emotionally. This question still echoes in our lives today. 

That’s why studying the questions God asks in Scripture can be so powerful. God’s questions reveal what matters most to Him. They uncover our fears, our motives, and our deepest needs. 

When God asks a question, He’s not seeking information. He’s stirring reflection. He wants us to think, to grow, and most of all, to come back to Him.

In the next few days we will be looking at the questions God asked. You may be surprised how deeply they speak to you. In addition to “Where are you?” God also asks, “Why are you angry?” “Where is your brother Abel?” And “Is My hand shortened, that it cannot redeem?”

By the way, if you know someone who wants to receive these daily devotionals, send me their name and number. I will add them to the daily list. Don’t worry, when you text me, it is seen only by me.

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

Our Text for today is 1 John 1:7

“If we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another.”

In other words, we should be in fellowship with one another.

When you get on a plane, the rule of last on but first out is not bad. When you go to worship, that rule is terrible. Some folks are the last to go in and first out. They leave as fast as they can. That may check off the list for having worshipped, but it does not help with spiritual growth. In our text, we are called to fellowship with one another. 

Fellowship is more than just being in the same room. It’s sharing the same life. Walking in the light means living with honesty, openness, and grace—with one another. 

We often settle for surface-level relationships. But Scripture calls us deeper. It calls us to to shared burdens, mutual encouragement, confession, joy, and family.

Real fellowship begins with walking in the light with Christ and each other. No hiding. No pretending. Just people, honest and growing together in Christ.

This kind of fellowship isn’t always tidy, but it is beautiful. It is healing. It is holy.

Today, think of someone you used to know and fellowship. Open that door again.

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

Our text for today is 1 Peter 4:9.

“Offer hospitality to one another without grumbling.” 

When we hear “hospitality,” we might picture spotless houses, perfectly set tables, and a meal worthy of a magazine cover. We might think, “Oh, that’s not me. My house is too small and too messy. I’m too tired. I don’t have the energy.” Peter knew we’d feel that way. That’s why he added that little phrase: “without grumbling.”

It reminds me of a story I heard years ago about a little five-year-old boy. His family had invited folks over for supper, and his dad asked him to say the blessing. The little fella hesitated, “Daddy, I don’t know how.” His dad encouraged him, “Just say what you’ve heard us say.” So, the boy bowed his head and prayed with earnest sincerity, “O Lord, why did we invite people over on a hot day like this?” Sometimes, our grumbling hearts speak louder than we intend!

Peter knew hospitality takes effort. It nudges us out of our routines, stretches our resources, and sometimes makes us want to grumble just a little bit. It asks us to make space, not just in our homes, but in our schedules, and in our lives.

But here’s the beautiful truth: hospitality isn’t about spotless houses or fancy food. It’s about opening a door, not just the one on your house, but the one to your life. When we offer a listening ear, a simple cup of coffee, a shared meal (even if it’s just pizza!), or a comfortable chair, we’re doing something sacred. We’re mirroring the heart of our welcoming Father.

You don’t need perfection. You just need willingness. A willingness to share your space, your time, your attention. A willingness to let someone feel seen and valued.

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

Our text for today is Romans 16:16.  

“Greet one another with a holy kiss.”

I’ve heard this verse mentioned in many Bible classes. Almost every time, the conversation drifts toward the “holy kiss” and how strange it seems today, and how it fit the culture back then. But that’s not really the heart of the verse.

The command isn’t about the kiss. It’s about the greeting.

In Paul’s world, a kiss was the cultural expression of warmth and welcome. In our world, it might be a handshake, a hug, a kind nod, or a smile that says, “You’re not invisible.” The real message behind the greeting is this: “I see you. I’m glad you’re here. You belong.”

In the early church, that kind of greeting wasn’t just a nice gesture—it was revolutionary. It crossed barriers of race, class, and gender. It pulled strangers into the circle and turned outsiders into family.

There’s quiet power in a sincere welcome. A smile can speak louder than a sermon. A name remembered can lift a heavy heart. A simple “good to see you” might be the most healing words someone hears all day.

So today, look for someone who might otherwise be overlooked. Make room in your heart and your circle. Let your greeting carry the warmth of Christ.

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

Our text for today is James 5:9.  

“Do not grumble against one another, brothers and sisters, or you will be judged.”

Grumbling rarely feels dangerous. It seems harmless—just blowing off steam, right?

But let’s take a closer look. Grumbling is more than words; it’s a low, persistent complaint that simmers beneath the surface. It’s the quiet muttering of a discontented heart. One person described it like this: “Grumbling is a tiny storm cloud that follows you around, mumbling under its breath. It’s when your heart sighs out loud, even if your mouth only whispers.” Like a toddler fussing over a sandwich cut the wrong way—something’s not right, and it just has to be known.

The danger? Grumbling doesn’t stay small. It spreads. Grumbling leads to more grumbling. It sours relationships. It steals peace. James warns us because he knows how easily it seeps into the spaces between people. A sigh. A sarcastic jab. A whispered complaint. Grumbling chills warmth and breaks unity.

Instead, we’re called to speak with grace. To be patient. To bring our frustrations to God, not to each other in bitterness. Prayer, not murmuring, is the path to peace.

Next time you feel that urge to grumble, pause and ask: Is this helpful? Is this holy? Will this build up or tear down?

Let me leave you with this little poem:

“We mutter and sputter. We fume and we spurt.  
We mumble and grumble; our feelings get hurt.  
We can’t understand things. Our vision grows dim,  
When all that we need is a moment with Him.”

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

Our verse for today is Galatians 6:2.

“Carry one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”

Everyone’s carrying something.

Some burdens are obvious—a fresh loss, a broken relationship, an empty bank account. Others are hidden—a secret struggle, an old grief, the kind of pain you tuck away with a smile. But Paul makes it simple: “Carry one another’s burdens.” Not fix. Not judge. Just carry.

Sometimes we think helping means having the right words or solving the problem. But often, all someone needs is for us to show up and quietly say, “I’ll carry this with you.”

Jesus did that. He carried more than a cross—He carried our shame, our sin, our sorrow. In doing so, He showed us what love really looks like. It doesn’t just weep with those who weep. No, sometimes it lifts, walks beside, and stays through the night.

To carry someone’s burden is holy work. It might be praying when they can’t. Sitting in silence when words fall short. Bringing a meal, a listening ear, or a note that says, “You’re not alone.”

You may not think of yourself as strong. But when you carry someone’s burden, you’re fulfilling the law of Christ.

Look around. Someone near you is walking under a heavy load. Ask God to help you see them. Ask Him to give you strong shoulders and a soft heart.

When we carry together, we walk lighter and we walk more like Him.

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

Our verse for today is Romans 12:16.

“Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with the lowly. Do not be conceited.”

I love four-part harmony. The bass, alto, tenor, and lead all sing different notes, but when they do, it creates a beautiful sound. It creates harmony. Harmony is a beautiful word. It is not sameness. It is not silence. It is different notes working together to create something richer, fuller, and more beautiful than one could do alone.

That’s the kind of life Paul urges us toward: “live in harmony with one another.” Not by ignoring differences, but by honoring them. Not by pretending we all think alike, but by remembering we belong to the same body—and Christ is the head.

Jesus did this well. He ate with tax collectors. He welcomed the poor. He spoke with women when others looked away. He knelt before fishermen and touched those no one else would touch. In every encounter, He showed us that harmony begins when we see each person as someone deeply loved by God.

In a world full of shouting, the Church is called to sing—not all in unison, but in unity. Different voices, different backgrounds, one Spirit, one Savior.

Maybe today it means listening more than speaking. Maybe it means setting aside a preference to preserve peace. Maybe it means reaching across a divide that’s grown too wide.

Whatever it looks like—start the song. Live in harmony. And let the world hear the music of grace.

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