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.

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.

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.