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God Uses Shabby Rabbits and Mute Swans
Weary, Adversity, Comfort, Encouragement, Hope Dana Rongione Weary, Adversity, Comfort, Encouragement, Hope Dana Rongione

God Uses Shabby Rabbits and Mute Swans

This morning, my mind wandered, which honestly isn't unusual. But this time, it wandered somewhere worth following.

I was thinking about three stories I've loved since childhood: The Ugly Duckling, The Velveteen Rabbit, and The Trumpet of the Swan. Here are three characters who had absolutely no business being the hero of anyone's story, or so the world around them thought. A gangly gray bird that didn't look like anyone else. A scruffy stuffed rabbit who was losing his button eyes and had the stuffing loved right out of him. A trumpeter swan named Louis, who couldn't make a sound and was silent in a world that communicated entirely through song.

It didn't take long to notice the thread running through all three stories. Each one of these characters was, by all outward appearances, broken. Unfit. The square peg in the round hole.

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Now What? Finding Hope When Your Plans Fall Apart

Now What? Finding Hope When Your Plans Fall Apart

In Acts 1, after Jesus was taken up, the disciples stood there staring into heaven until the angels asked, "Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven?" The angels went on to say, "this same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven." Luke 24:49 also shows that this was not the end of their journey because Jesus had already told them to wait until they were "endued with power from on high."

I can just picture it. One minute, they're standing on the mount with Jesus. The next, He's gone into the clouds, and they're all doing the first-century version of standing in the grocery store parking lot asking, "Now what?" No five-step plan. No laminated ministry packet. No "Disciples' Guide to What to Do After the Ascension." Just a sky full of clouds and a heart full of questions.

Honestly, I can relate.

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Fixing Your Eyes on the Risen Christ
Hope, Easter, Discouragement, Encouragement, Comfort Dana Rongione Hope, Easter, Discouragement, Encouragement, Comfort Dana Rongione

Fixing Your Eyes on the Risen Christ

Okay, real talk. Easter Sunday has come and gone. The ham has been eaten, the Easter lilies are wilting on the windowsill, and the chocolate eggs are gone (or maybe that's just at my house). The decorations are back in the bin, and life has rudely resumed its regularly scheduled programming, complete with the bills, the aches, the worries, and that one news headline that makes you want to go back to bed and pull the covers over your head.

And somewhere in the middle of all that ordinary Monday-ness, you might be wondering: Was Easter just a Sunday? Or does it mean something for right now, when my circumstances are anything but hopeful?

Oh, friend. Peter has something to say about that.

The Apostle Peter wasn't writing from a cozy armchair. He was writing to believers who were scattered, suffering, and facing very real persecution.

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Your Easter Sunday Is On Its Way
disappointment, Discouragement, Encouragement, Hope, Easter Dana Rongione disappointment, Discouragement, Encouragement, Hope, Easter Dana Rongione

Your Easter Sunday Is On Its Way

I want you to do something for me. Close your eyes for a moment and imagine it's the darkest stretch of days the world has ever known. The sky went black in the middle of the afternoon. The earth shook. The temple veil ripped right down the middle. And the Man they had called the Son of God took His last breath on a Roman cross.

The days that followed were devastating. The disciples huddled together in a locked room, trembling behind closed doors. Peter was a wreck. John had nothing to say. The women were weeping. And two shell-shocked followers shuffling down the road to Emmaus were kicking the dust with heavy feet and mumbling to each other about how they had hoped He was the One. Past tense. Had hoped.

They had followed Him. Believed in Him. Left everything for Him. And now He was dead, sealed behind a borrowed stone, and their hope was buried right along with Him.

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When Life Gets Squishy

When Life Gets Squishy

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

My husband and I had set out for a walk, a perfectly reasonable and wholesome activity. Somewhere along the way, we decided to take the shortcut across the pasture. How bad could it be? Famous last words. After all, we should have known better. We live in Wales, where the rain doesn't just fall; it moves in, unpacks its bags, and stays for weeks.

We hadn't taken more than a few steps into that field before the trouble started. The ground, which had looked solid a few steps away from the gate, was anything but. With every step across that field, our boots sank into the soft, saturated earth with a noise that can only be described as squishy. The mud grabbed at our feet like it had a personal vendetta.

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