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.

Have you ever heard of “Doctors Without Borders?” Doctors give of their time and risk their lives to go into war zones and disaster sites. They don’t do it for money and their only reward is to do something for others. In today’s question, Jesus challenges us to show “Love without Borders.” He challenges us to show kindness and love to people who don’t expect it.

He asked,
“If you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others? Do not even Gentiles do the same?” (Matthew 5:47).

It’s easy to be kind to those who think like we do, look like we do, and live like we do. Jesus knew that. That’s why He asked a simple but piercing question — if we only greet and show kindness to our own, what makes us any different from the rest of the world? Even people who don’t know God show basic kindness to their own crowd.

Jesus wasn’t calling His followers to ordinary kindness. He was inviting us into something extraordinary — a life that reflects the heart of God Himself. God’s kindness stretches to the ones who disagree with Him, the ones who misunderstand Him, and even the ones who reject Him. As His children, we are called to do the same.

Think about that for a moment. If our love and kindness are no different than the kindness of someone who’s never met Jesus, what story are we telling? Jesus didn’t love us when we were already part of His family — He loved us while we were still sinners, still strangers, still far off.

Every time we extend that kind of kindness, we are painting a picture of the kingdom Jesus came to build.

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

In Matthew 15, Jesus asks a question.

“And why do you break the command of God for the sake of your tradition?” (Verse 3).

Even today, we wrestle with tradition becoming commandments in our minds.

As a young preacher, I took a group of teenagers to a nursing home where they monthly sang church songs to the audience of elderly patients. We always concluded our 25 minutes of singing with a prayer before leaving. That is a wonderful tradition, but I thought I would “shake things up.” I had the prayer in the middle of the singing and closed with a song. I turned to the young people to leave and they stood waiting for a “closing prayer.” I motioned for them to go, but they stood frozen in their spot. Finally I lead a prayer and they willingly left.

Here’s another example: I once observed a church leader walk into a teenage Bible class. He saw donuts the teacher had brought so he took them out. Was he enforcing a tradition or a commandment of God?

Tradition is doing things in a certain way so long that it become a law in our hearts.

Traditions cover whether women go to church in pants or dresses, the length of a man’s hair, or the style of worship we love. Young people, old people, white people, black people, and people in other lands all worship with a different style. These are just traditions.
In keeping with Jesus’ question, we must not let our traditions become a “thus saith the Lord.” Traditions are fine! I follow a lot of them, but I must see them for what they are and not judge another by my traditions. When God tells us what to do, that is not a tradition. When God has not spoken, it is a tradition.

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

There’s something captivating about the shine of success. Whether it’s a larger bank account, a new title on the office door, or applause from a crowd, we chase after these things with energy and passion. But Jesus asked a question that cuts right through all of that. It is found in Matthew 16:26

“What will it profit a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul? Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul?”

In other words, what good is it to gain the whole world if you lose your soul in the process?

It’s easy to forget how fragile this world’s treasures are.
Wealth can vanish overnight.
Popularity fades faster than morning mist.
Even the best accomplishments grow old with time.

Yet, we spend so much of our lives stacking up these things, hoping they’ll give us the meaning and worth we crave. Jesus reminds us that true worth isn’t found in any of these. It’s found in something eternal — the state of our soul.

Your soul is the part of you that will live forever. It’s the place where God speaks, where His Spirit comforts, and where His love takes root. No amount of money, power, or fame can touch that sacred place. And when all is said and done, it’s your soul — not your resume or your retirement account — that will stand before God.

So, Jesus isn’t trying to take something from us with this question. He’s inviting us to trade the temporary things and stuff and junk, for the eternal.

It’s the best trade you’ll ever make.

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

Peter was a “Water Walker,” but even he began to sink. As he began to sink:

“Immediately Jesus reached out His hand and took hold of Peter. ‘You of little faith,’ He said, ‘why did you doubt?’” (Matthew 14: 31)

Faith is a beautiful thing when it’s steady, but oh how fragile it becomes when fear walks in. One moment Peter was doing the impossible, walking on water with his eyes locked on Jesus. The next, his gaze shifted to the wind and waves, and fear grabbed hold of his heart. In an instant, the faith that carried him onto the water crumbled beneath his feet.

We can relate to Peter, can’t we? Life has a way of throwing storms our direction—unexpected diagnoses, financial struggles, broken relationships. We start off with confidence, trusting God will see us through. But then the wind howls, the waves crash, and we feel the cold spray of uncertainty. Suddenly, fear seems more real than our faith.

But here’s the beautiful truth: Jesus didn’t leave Peter to sink. His hand was reaching, holding, even as the words left His mouth. “You of little faith, why did you doubt?” Jesus didn’t ask to shame Peter, but to remind him where faith truly comes from—not from perfect circumstances, but from a perfect Savior.

Faith isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about choosing to trust, even when fear shouts louder. When our eyes stay on Jesus, fear loses its grip, and faith finds solid ground again.

Whatever storm you’re in, read today’s passage and you will see Jesus standing there, hand extended, ready to catch you.

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

Worry is like rocking in a chair—you put in all the effort, but you don’t go anywhere. You feel like you’re doing something, but in reality, you’re just wearing yourself out. It keeps your mind busy, your heart heavy, and your peace just out of reach.

Jesus knew how easily we fall into worry, so He asked a simple but profound question in Matthew 6:27:

“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?”

Worry is a thief. It sneaks in, steals our peace, and leaves behind fear, exhaustion, and doubt. It takes and takes, but it never gives anything in return. Jesus reminds us that no amount of anxious thoughts will add a single moment to our lives. And yet, how often do we let worry take control, playing out endless scenarios in our minds, as if worrying hard enough will change the outcome? It never does.

Think about it—has worrying ever truly solved a problem? Has it ever brought joy, strength, or clarity? All it does is drain our energy and keep us from enjoying the present. It’s like carrying an umbrella every day in the middle of a desert, just in case it rains. You end up weighed down for nothing, preparing for storms that may never come.

Jesus calls us to something better—trust. Trust doesn’t mean ignoring our responsibilities or pretending everything is perfect. It means recognizing that God is already in tomorrow, working things out in ways we can’t see. It means believing that He cares for us more than we can imagine.

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

“If you walked up to an apple tree, you wouldn’t expect to find oranges hanging from its branches. And yet, how often do we expect good fruit from bad roots?”

This is the subject of Jesus’ question in Matthew 7.

“By their fruit you will recognize them. Are grapes gathered from thorn-bushes, or figs from thistles?” (verse 16).

With this question, Jesus gives us a simple but powerful truth—what we do, what we produce, reveals who we are. No one expects apples from a cactus or oranges from a pine tree. In the same way, a life rooted in Christ will naturally bear good fruit.

You don’t need a magnifying glass to see people’s character; you see it in their actions. Someone may talk about kindness, but if they’re constantly bitter, the fruit tells the real story. A person can claim to follow Jesus, but if their life is marked by dishonesty, selfishness, and pride, the evidence says otherwise.

And what about us? What fruit do we bear? If our words are encouraging, our actions reflect love, and our habits point to Jesus, we don’t have to convince anyone—we simply live it out. The fruit speaks for itself.

Jesus isn’t asking us to be perfect. He knows we stumble. But over time, a heart transformed by Him will naturally produce something different—patience where there used to be frustration, peace where there was anxiety, and kindness where there was indifference.

Today, take a moment to examine the fruit of your life. What does it say about your roots? Stay connected to Jesus, and the fruit will follow.

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

Sometimes, life makes us feel insignificant. The world is big, and we are just one of many. But God doesn’t see you as just one among the masses. He knows your name, your struggles, and your heartaches.

That is why Jesus gives us Matthew 10:29
“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father.”

A sparrow flits across the sky, unnoticed by most. It isn’t grand like an eagle or majestic like a peacock. It doesn’t command attention. Yet, Jesus tells us that not even one falls to the ground apart from the Father’s care. Jesus wants us to realize that if God values something as small as a sparrow, how much more does He value you?

Jesus’ words remind us that we are not forgotten. The same God who paints the sky and tells the waves where to stop has His eyes on you. He doesn’t just see you—He values you. You are not just another face in the crowd; you are a beloved child of the King.

So, when doubts creep in, when you wonder if God sees your pain or hears your prayers, remember the sparrow. If He cares for them, how much more does He care for you? Rest in that truth today.

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

Decades ago, my dear grandmother made a joke. She said, “I don’t know why people can’t see their own faults.” She paused and then added, “I know I could certainly see mine—if I had any.”  

In today’s passage, Jesus highlights this very problem. He asks:  

“Why do you look at the speck in your brother’s eye but fail to notice the beam in your own eye?” (Matthew 7:3)  

Jesus knew that we are quick to spot the faults in others but blind to our own. A speck is a tiny thing, barely noticeable. A beam? That’s a heavy plank, something that should be impossible to ignore. Yet, somehow, we become experts in identifying other people’s flaws while overlooking our own glaring shortcomings.

Jesus isn’t condemning discernment—He’s challenging hypocrisy. He calls us to be self-aware, to examine our hearts before pointing fingers. Why? Because when we deal with our own faults first, we develop humility.  

Jesus does not want us to be blind to the faults of others, but He does want us to clean up our own first. As one woman told me, “Sweep off your own porch before you sweep your neighbor’s.” Why is this true? Because when we examine our own lives first, we are better equipped to help others with love rather than condemnation.  

So today, let’s ask God to help us remove the beams from our own eyes so we can see clearly, love sincerely, and help others with humility.  

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

Jesus never called us to live an ordinary life. He didn’t gather His disciples and say, “Just blend in. Love the ones who are easy, be kind to those who are kind to you, and call it a day.” 

No! He raised the bar!

Jesus said, “If you love those who love you, what reward will you get? Do not even tax collectors do the same?” (Matthew 5:46).  

It’s easy to love those who treat us well. We are drawn toward people who share our interests, make us laugh, and show us kindness. But what about the difficult ones—the ones who ignore us, frustrate us, or even hurt us? Jesus says love them too. Why? Because that’s how God loves us.  

Imagine if God only loved the lovable. Where would that leave us on our worst days? When we fail, when we sin, when we fall short—God’s love remains. He loves us not because we deserve it, but because that’s who He is. He calls us to love others in the same way.  

Loving beyond convenience, beyond comfort, beyond what comes naturally—that’s where Christian love is lived out. That’s where and when we reflect Christ. The world expects conditional love, but we serve a God who offers unconditional love.  

Ask yourself: Who in my life is hard to love? Then, love them anyway. Not because they’ve earned it, but because Jesus loved you first.  

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

While on earth, Jesus asked over 300 questions—each one with purpose, each one designed to reach the heart. Beginning today, I want to explore a few of them, starting with a question that every soul must answer.

Our question today comes from Matthew 16. Jesus is walking with His disciples when He turns and asks, “But what about you? … Who do you say I am?” (verse 16).

Of all the questions Jesus asked, this one stands above the rest. It’s not just a question—it’s “THE” question. The one every person must answer. Many in the crowd had opinions about Jesus. Some thought He was a prophet, others a great teacher. But Jesus wasn’t only interested in what the world thought. He turned to His disciples and made it personal: “Who do you say I am?”

That same question echoes through time, reaching every heart. It’s not a test of knowledge; it’s a test of faith. If Jesus is only a wise teacher, we may admire Him. If He’s a prophet, we may respect Him. But if He is the Christ, the Son of the living God, then that changes everything.

In the next verse, Peter got it right. Without hesitation, he answered, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

This question isn’t one we answer once and then move on. It’s a question we answer daily—with our choices, our trust, our hope. Because what we believe about Jesus shapes everything about us.

And so, He asks again, “Who do you say I am?”

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

Our devotional thought comes from Genesis 3:1.

“Now the serpent was more cunning than any beast of the field that the LORD God had made. And he said to the woman, ‘Did God really say, “You must not eat from any tree in the garden”?’”

Some lies don’t sound like lies at all. They sound like harmless questions. That’s exactly how the enemy worked in the garden—he didn’t start with an outright lie, but with a whisper of doubt. “Did God really say?” That question didn’t just challenge Eve’s memory; it challenged God’s character, His goodness, and His truthfulness.

Satan didn’t shove Eve into sin—he simply nudged her toward uncertainty. And he still does the same today. Have you ever faced a moment where you second-guessed God? Maybe He’s called you to trust Him in a tough season, but you find yourself asking, “Did God really mean that for me?”

Doubt isn’t always loud. It sneaks in through worries, disappointments, and subtle messages. But here’s the difference between Eve and Jesus. When the enemy whispered to Eve, she entertained the thought. She weighed her options. But when the enemy whispered to Jesus in the wilderness, He didn’t waver—He answered with Scripture and truth.

That’s our model. When doubt knocks, don’t open the door. Answer it with Scripture. God’s Word is solid, unchanging, and true.
I’m Lonnie Davis, and these are thoughts worth thinking.

Our devotional thought comes from Hosea 7:14:

“They do not cry out to me from their hearts but wail on their beds; they slash themselves, appealing to their gods for grain and new wine, but they turn away from me.”

Taking our cares to God should result in peace. Faith in prayer to God should produce a trusting spirit. That’s the heartbeat here. These folks wailed, slashed, and chased fleeting idols—grain to fill their bellies, wine to numb their ache. Fear drove them, not faith. They scrambled for control, missing the gentle voice saying, “I’m here and I’m enough.” God didn’t want their noise; He wanted their hearts. Real faith doesn’t thrash about in panic—it rests. It trusts. It looks up, not around.

Ever feel that tug? Life throws a curve, and suddenly we’re wailing on our own beds, grasping at straws. But faith says, “Stop. Breathe. He’s here.” Hosea’s people fretted, but we don’t have to. Trust is the antidote to fear—a quiet anchor in a loud world. Lean into Him today. He’s not a god of grain and wine; He’s the God of grace and peace.

I leave you with a short poem that reflects this thought:

As children bring their broken toys, with tears, for me to mend,
I brought my broken dreams to God because He was my friend.

But then, instead of leaving Him in peace to work alone,
I hung around and tried to help… with ways that were my own.

At last, I snatched them back and cried, “How can You be so slow?”
“My child,” He said. “What could I do? You never did let go.”

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

Our devotional thought comes from Habakuk 3:17-18. 

Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines,
though the olive crop fails
and the fields produce no food,
though there are no sheep in the pen
and no cattle in the stalls,
yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
I will be joyful in God my Savior.

Joy is a choice. That’s the declaration of Habakkuk. He looks around and sees nothing but scarcity—barren fields, empty stalls, fruitless trees. Everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. And yet, he says, “I will rejoice in the LORD; I will be joyful in God my Savior.” 

That’s not denial. That’s not wishful thinking. That’s faith in its purest form. Habakkuk is showing us that joy is not about what we have, but about Who we trust. The world says joy comes from abundance, from success, from everything going the way we planned. But God’s people know a deeper truth—joy isn’t about what’s in our hands; it’s about what’s in our hearts.  

Choosing joy doesn’t mean we ignore our problems. It means we refuse to let them define us. It means that even when life disappoints, we can still trust in God’s goodness. When the job is lost, the diagnosis is grim, or the future is uncertain, we can stand with Habakkuk and say, “Yet I will rejoice.” 

This kind of joy confounds the world. It’s the kind of joy Paul had when he sang in a prison cell, the kind of joy that carried Job through his loss, the kind of joy that Christ Himself endured the cross for. It’s a joy that chooses God over circumstances.  

So today, no matter what you face, make the decision: I will rejoice.  

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

Our devotional thought comes from Jude 1:21:  

“Keep yourselves in the love of God as you await the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ to bring you eternal life.”  

Waiting isn’t easy. We live in a world of instant gratification—fast food, quick downloads, same-day shipping. But God’s promises unfold in His timing, not ours. Jude reminds us that as we wait for the fulfillment of God’s promise, we must stay anchored in His love.  

Think of a child waiting for their parent to return. They don’t doubt—they trust. They may stand by the window, watching expectantly, knowing their parent will come. That’s the kind of waiting we are called to—expectant, confident, secure. We don’t sit in fear, wondering if Jesus will keep His promise. We wait in love, knowing that He will.  

Waiting becomes hardest when the world around us is uncertain. Delays can create doubt. Hardships can stir fear. But when we remind ourselves of God’s past faithfulness, we grow stronger in the waiting. We pray, we trust, and we keep walking forward. His mercy is not a maybe—it’s a certainty.  

While we wait, let’s do so with hope. Let’s not drift away, but stay close, standing firm in the love of the One who never fails. Eternal life isn’t just a distant dream—it’s a promise from a God who always keeps His word. So let’s wait well. As one proverb says, “Patience is not the ability to wait, but the ability to keep a good attitude while waiting”

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

Our devotional thought comes from John 11:25.

Jesus stood at the edge of a tomb and spoke words that shattered the silence of death: “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in Me will live, even though he dies.”

Death is the one enemy humanity has never conquered. It steals, it separates, and it reminds us of our frailty. But Jesus didn’t just promise life after death—He declared Himself to be life itself. Faith in Him does more than comfort us in the face of loss; it guarantees that death is not the end of our story.

When Jesus spoke these words, He was talking to Martha, whose brother Lazarus had been dead for four days. Grief filled the air. But Jesus was not troubled. He knew something Martha didn’t—death had met its match.

Moments later, at His command, Lazarus walked out of the grave, his burial clothes still wrapped around him. A preview of what was to come.

This is the hope of every believer. Physical death may come, but it has no final claim on us. Jesus broke its grip when He rose from the grave, proving that the grave is not a prison but a passage. For those in Christ, the end of this life is the beginning of a greater one.

So, do not fear. Death is real, but Jesus overcame death.

Trust in Him, and you will live forever.

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