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Dana Rongione 06/07/2026 Dana Rongione 06/07/2026

Faithful in the Shadows

There are days when I look at my life and wonder if any of it matters.

I'm not talking about a dramatic crisis of faith. I'm talking about the quiet, creeping question that slips in on an ordinary Wednesday when nobody's reading my blog, nobody's buying my books, and our Bible study only has four ladies in attendance.

Is this really making any difference? Am I doing anything that truly matters?

In my newest book, Hope Refined, my character Merlin wrestles with this very thing. He's lived for decades, faithfully following and serving, yet he looks back and sees what feels like a long corridor of nothing.

No great victories.

No world-shaking moments.

Just years of small, quiet, unseen faithfulness. And he wonders if he's wasted it all.

And then Jesus reminds him of the seven thousand.

Dana Rongione 12/06/2026 Dana Rongione 12/06/2026

When Silence Hurts

I stared at the screen, blinking. One review. One star. On one of my newest children's picture books. My first one-star review ever. Somewhere, confetti was supposed to fall, and angels were supposed to sing, "Well done, thou good and faithful author." Instead, it felt more like, "Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin. You've been weighed in the balances and found wanting." Ouch!

Confusion hit first. I read the review again and again, trying to match the harshness of the rating with the sweetness of the story I'd written. This book, like all the others I've written, had been prayed over, labored over, and, honestly, loved over. It had been written for children who needed hope and truth in a world gone mad. How could someone look at that and see only something worthy of one lonely, miserable star?

Then another question surfaced, and it hurt in a different way:

Dana Rongione 03/06/2026 Dana Rongione 03/06/2026

Faithful From Right Where You Are

I've never been much of a crowd person.

Give me my cozy office, a cup of tea, and a book to read or write, and I am in my happy place. The moment someone suggests a big event, a bustling gathering, or, heaven forbid, a party where I don't know most of the people, something inside me quietly dies.

So you can imagine how relieved I was when Jason recently preached a sermon about a woman named Anna.

She appears in Scripture for only three verses, just a little flash of light in the nativity story, but what those three verses reveal about her is nothing short of breathtaking. Here's how the Bible describes her:

"And there was one Anna, a prophetess, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Aser: she was of a great age, and had lived with an husband seven years from her virginity; and she was a widow of about fourscore and four years, which departed not from the temple, but served God with fastings and prayers night and day.

Dana Rongione 27/05/2026 Dana Rongione 27/05/2026

Do I Really Need To Do My Part?

When you hear the word "construction crew," what do you picture? Big burly builders in hard hats? Perhaps a guy with a clipboard who seems to know what he's doing, and everyone else just getting in the way?

That's not what we see in Nehemiah. When the rebuilding of Jerusalem's wall began, the "crew" was... everyone. Goldsmiths. Perfume makers. Priests. Merchants. Dads. Daughters. People probably more familiar with frying pans than hammers. Chapter 3 reads like a holy roll call of ordinary folks doing an extraordinary thing: obeying God and working side by side.

And right in the middle of all that enthusiasm, we bump into one sad little line:

"And next unto them the Tekoites repaired; but their nobles put not their necks to the work of their Lord." - Nehemiah 3:5

Everyone else is shoulder-to-shoulder, sweating in the sun, stacking stones for the glory of God. But the nobles of Tekoa are standing off to the side.

Dana Rongione 29/04/2026 Dana Rongione 29/04/2026

Carrying Others’ Burdens Without Being Crushed

You know the feeling. Your phone rings, and even before you answer, your shoulders tense up. Somebody needs something…again. And you love them. You really do. But somewhere between the third crisis this week and the fact that you haven't slept well in days, you catch yourself wondering if maybe you're just done with it all. And then you feel guilty for thinking it.

If that's you today, friend, pull up a chair. We need to talk.

Here's the thing nobody tells you when you sign up for loving people well: compassion, if you're not careful, can crush you. Not because something is wrong with you, but because you are human, with a finite supply of strength, emotional bandwidth, and, let's be honest, patience. You were never designed to carry the weight of the world. That job was already taken.