Month: February 2025

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.