Matthew 7:9-11 Or what man is there among you who, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will he give him a serpent? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!
One of the great preachers whose writings I love to read is John R. Rice. He once shared a powerful illustration:
“I imagined myself in Heaven, walking alongside the Angel Gabriel. I turned to him and asked, ‘Gabe, what is that large building over there?’
‘You may be disappointed,’ he replied. ‘I don’t think you want to see it.’
But I insisted, so he took me inside. As we walked through, I saw floor after floor filled with beautifully wrapped gifts, waiting to be sent.
‘Gabriel, what are all these?’ I asked.
With a sorrowful tone, he answered, ‘These are blessings we prepared—but no one ever asked for them.’”
How often do we miss out on what God has for us simply because we fail to ask? The Word says, “You have not because you ask not” (James 4:2). Our Father is generous, full of mercy, and eager to pour out His goodness upon us—but we must come before Him in faith, believing that He is both willing and able!
Let us boldly approach the throne of grace with humility and expectation, knowing that our Father delights in blessing His children. He has prepared so much for us—so simply ask!
Copyright 1999-2026 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
More Devotions
Bobby Jones was one of the greatest golfers to ever compete, uniquely known for winning the “Grand Slam” of golf winning all four major tournaments in the U.S. and Britain in a single year. In 1925, early in his career, having reached the final playoff in the U.S. Open, at a certain point in the match, Jones was setting up to strike his ball which was in the rough just off the fairway. His iron accidentally touched the ball. He immediately became angry with himself, turned to the marshals, and called a penalty on himself.
How often, in all the issues we have to deal with talking with people, we know or we feel we are right; our idea, our position, our interpretation is it, and we’re ready to fight for it…
Life wears us down. We live in a world of relentless motion, pressure, and performance. Yeshua (Jesus) doesn’t deny this. Instead, He speaks directly to those who are “weary and heavy-laden.” The Greek for “weary” (kopiao) means utterly worn out—soul-tired, not just physically fatigued. The burdens He mentions aren’t only external tasks but inward baggage: guilt, shame, expectations, and hidden wounds. Yeshua’s call isn’t merely an invitation to stop—it’s a call to come. He offers what no one else can: rest that restores.
When we read the promises of God, we must read them the way we ourselves want to be heard—in full context. Just as we expect others to understand our words in light of what we’ve said before, God expects us to interpret His promises in light of all He has revealed in His Word.
A few days ago, I shared a quote from B.J. Willhite, and today I want to delve deeper into his powerful insight. He wrote, “The law of prayer is the highest law of the universe—it can overcome the other laws by sanctioning God’s intervention. When implemented properly, the law of prayer permits God to exercise His sovereignty in a world under the dominion of a rebel with free will, in a universe governed by natural law.”
Samson is a powerful example of a man of God who won his battles over and over again because the Spirit of the Lord came upon him. Yet when he was finally defeated by Delilah’s temptations he didn’t realize that the Lord had left him, so effective was the woman’s spell…
When God spoke to Abram, the command was clear yet profoundly personal. The Hebrew phrase lech lecha carries a dual meaning: “go forth” and “go for yourself.” This journey wasn’t just a physical relocation; it was a spiritual pilgrimage—a call to walk out God’s will and to walk into his divine inheritance. Abram’s journey was not merely about distance but about destiny.