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Devotions Archive
Putting on the Armor When You’re Tired
Spiritual Warfare, weary, armor of God, Chronic Illness, Encouragement, Spiritual Growth Dana Rongione Spiritual Warfare, weary, armor of God, Chronic Illness, Encouragement, Spiritual Growth Dana Rongione

Putting on the Armor When You’re Tired

Last week, Jason and I finally did it. We hauled out the old, falling-apart dressers and replaced them with a shiny new (well, new to us) three-door wardrobe. Jason built in some shelves, I found the perfect baskets, and over the course of a few days, we went through every piece of clothing we had stuffed in those poor drawers.

Some things were easy to let go of: old, worn-out pieces that had lived a good life. Others I just never reached for anymore. But I'll be honest, there were more items than I'd like to admit that simply didn't fit anymore. I wish I could say that some had gotten too big, but sadly, that was NOT the case. Either way, they weren't doing me any good.

As I stood there, holding up yet another item that no longer fit and muttering something unladylike under my breath, a thought hit me: Sometimes the armor of God feels exactly like this.

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Faithful From Right Where You Are
Encouragement, Reaching Out To Others, Chronic Illness, Rise Up and Build Dana Rongione Encouragement, Reaching Out To Others, Chronic Illness, Rise Up and Build Dana Rongione

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.

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When the Body Attacks Itself
Chronic Illness, Encouragement, Comfort Dana Rongione Chronic Illness, Encouragement, Comfort Dana Rongione

When the Body Attacks Itself

I still remember the first time I said it out loud: “Lord, my body is trying to kill me.”

It had been one of those days with joints on fire, muscles shaking, and fatigue so heavy I felt like I was wading through molasses. Meanwhile, my immune system was acting like an overzealous security guard, tackling anything that moved, including innocent bystanders like my thyroid and joints.

In my mind, my body had become the enemy.
And then there was that verse: “I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.” (Psalm 139:14)

I’ll be honest. At that moment, I really struggled with that verse.

“Fearfully and wonderfully made?” I grumbled. “Lord, this feels more like fearfully and wonderfully malfunctioning.”

For those of us with autoimmune disease or chronic illness, there’s a special kind of heartbreak in feeling like your own body has betrayed you.

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When Pain Becomes Your Prayer
Chronic Illness, Rise Up and Build, Suffering Dana Rongione Chronic Illness, Rise Up and Build, Suffering Dana Rongione

When Pain Becomes Your Prayer

Do you ever feel like your body has become a battlefield instead of the temple it's supposed to be? I certainly do. As someone who wrestles daily with chronic illness, I've learned that some mornings the greatest act of faith is simply swinging my legs out of bed and placing my feet on the floor.

Yesterday was one of those days. The pain in my back, neck, and shoulders had me practically immobilized, and as I struggled to type out a few sentences, I found myself staring at the ceiling and asking the age-old question: "God, what are You doing?" It's a question I've asked more times than I care to admit, usually through tears and with a hefty dose of frustration thrown in for good measure.

For years, I approached my chronic pain like it was an enemy to be defeated, something standing between me and the "real" ministry God had called me to do. I prayed for healing. I begged for relief.

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