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.

Our scripture for today is Romans 12:10.

 “Honor one another above yourselves.”

Did you ever hear words of wisdom that sound great? One such word says, “Great minds discuss ideas; average minds discuss events; small minds discuss people.”

I have a one-word response to that! Baloney!

Here is why: The other day I went to the doctor and sat quietly in the waiting room. I sat near four older ladies. So what did these ladies talk about? They talked about people and their relationships and what they are doing to help them.

That wasn’t small-minded, but rather it was people honoring people.

 To honor someone is to treasure them—to see their worth, treat them with dignity, and recognize that they bear the image of God. It’s a heart choice to value others, often when no one else does. These ladies made me realize that if I just hush and listen, I will find a reason to honor.

The story of these ladies turns the world’s wisdom upside down. While the world urges us to chase recognition, God calls us to give it away.

We honor others when we listen politely, notice effort, and speak words that build instead of bruise. A kind note, a heartfelt thank you, a whispered prayer for someone who’s weary—these are quiet echoes of honor.

All of us can do these things, and in so doing, we honor others.

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

Our Scripture for today is Romans 15:7.

“Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you.”

Looking back, my favorite fellowship has always been Thanksgiving dinner—the table full, hearts full, everyone gathered and, for just a moment, completely accepted. No one asked you to fix yourself first. You were simply welcomed.

That’s what Paul means in Romans 15:7. “Accept one another,” he says, “just as Christ accepted you.” Christ didn’t wait for us to be cleaned up or straightened out. He took us in, baggage and all. He didn’t demand perfection. He offered grace.

Acceptance doesn’t mean approval. It means making room—for quirks and questions, for hurts and habits. It’s seeing someone and saying, “You still belong.”

Too often, we reverse the order. We think people have to change before we accept them. But God starts with acceptance, and transformation follows.

In real life, acceptance looks like patience when someone is growing slowly. It sounds like listening when you’d rather lecture. It feels like choosing kindness when judgment would be easier.

So who’s on the outside looking in today? A coworker, a neighbor, a family member? Maybe it’s time to lay out the welcome mat—not just to your home, but to your heart.

Christ accepted us. Can we do any less?

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

Our verse for today is Hebrews 10:24:
“Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds.”

There’s a sacred kind of friendship that doesn’t just offer a shoulder—it offers a spark. The kind that doesn’t just sit with you in the valley but nudges you up the hill. That’s what the writer of Hebrews had in mind.

“Let us consider…” The word consider means to pause, to ponder, to think carefully. This isn’t a drive-by encouragement. It’s intentional and thoughtful. We’re to ask ourselves, “How can I help my brother, my sister, grow in love? How can I inspire them to step out in kindness, in courage, in compassion?”

Then comes that little word: spur. A gentle word? Not exactly. Spurs are sharp. They get a horse moving when it would rather stand still. And sometimes, we’re like that horse. Tired. Discouraged. Stalled. That’s when we need someone who will kindly and prayerfully stir us up again.

Not to shame us. Not to scold. But to say, “There’s more in you. Let’s go after it together.”

Maybe you know someone who’s been sitting still too long—spiritually, emotionally, even creatively. God may be inviting you to be their spark. A phone call. A kind word. A nudge in the right direction.

Encouragement is holy work. Do it with love. Do it with grace. And watch what God can do through it.

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

James 5:16 whispers a truth that tugs at our hearts: 

“Confess your sins to one another and pray for one another so that you may be healed.” 

It’s a simple invitation, yet it feels like stepping off a cliff. Our instincts scream to keep our failures tucked away, safe from prying eyes. Confession? That’s risky. What if they judge me? What if they turn away?

But James, with a shepherd’s gentleness, points us to a promise: confession isn’t a trap—it’s a doorway to healing. Not just for our souls, but for our relationships. When we lay bare our struggles, we shatter shame’s grip. We trade isolation for fellowship, secrecy for support. In that sacred moment of honesty, we find prayers that lift us and hands that hold us steady.

This isn’t about reckless confession. Confession calls for wisdom. Find a proven and trustworthy friend, someone seasoned in grace, not judgment. Done right, it can change your life. It knits hearts together. It carves a path for growth. Jesus never meant for us to wear masks. He beckons us into the light, where love outshines fear.

Is there a burden you’ve carried alone? A sin or a struggle, weighing heavy? 

Share it with someone who’ll pray, not punish. Healing waits on the other side. Ask God for courage and a safe soul to trust. Remember: “A burden shared is a burden halved.”

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

Our scripture for today is Ephesians 4:32.

“Be kind and tenderhearted to one another, forgiving each other just as in Christ God forgave you.”

What a great call: be kind to one another.

Kindness may not seem like much. A soft word. A gentle tone. A small act of thoughtfulness. But in a world that often runs on noise and sharp edges, kindness is a sacred interruption. It stops the rush. It softens the blow. It reminds us that we are still human, still seen, still loved.

In today’s verse, Paul ties kindness to tenderheartedness—compassion that comes from deep within. It’s more than manners. It’s more than smiling at strangers. It’s treating others the way Jesus treated us—gently, patiently, without rushing to judgment.

Think of how kind Jesus was. To children who interrupted. To lepers who cried out. To a woman at a well. To a thief on a cross. His kindness wasn’t weakness—it was power under control. It was love choosing to speak gently when it could have spoken with force.

Being kind doesn’t cost much, but it means a lot. A kind word can hold back a flood of despair. A kind gesture can remind someone that they matter. And when that kindness comes from a heart touched by God, it carries His fingerprints.

So today, look for someone who needs that kindness. Maybe they won’t say so. Maybe they’ve forgotten how to ask. But they’re out there. Your kindness may be the clearest glimpse of Jesus they’ll see all day.

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