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Dana Rongione 04/05/2026 Dana Rongione 04/05/2026

Resisting the Dark Side

Okay, I'll admit it. I'm a bit of a Star Wars nerd.

Not a full costume at the midnight premiere level, but enough to know that today, May the 4th, the galaxy far, far away shows up in every social media feed, coffee shop chalkboard, and text message chain on the planet. "May the fourth be with you." Ha, ha! It gets me every time!

But behind all the puns, the Yoda memes, and the lightsaber sound effects, there's a concept in Star Wars that ought to make every Christian sit up a little straighter in their seat. In George Lucas's world, the greatest danger a Jedi faces isn't the enemy in front of him. It's the Dark Side within him. And the gateway to that darkness? Anger. Fear. Aggression.

Hmm. That sounds awfully familiar, doesn't it?

Because if I flip over to my Bible, specifically to Galatians 5, I find a list that reads a lot like a Dark Side recruitment brochure:

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

Stop Trying to Grow Grapes!

I stared at the blank screen for forty-five minutes.

Not because I had nothing to say. I'm a writer. I always have something to say. Just ask my husband. No, the problem was that I was trying too hard. I was forcing it. I was sitting there with my knuckles white, my jaw tight, and my brain in a full-on wrestling match with itself, willing the words to appear. And the harder I pushed, the emptier that screen looked. The cursor just blinked at me. Slowly. Mockingly.

Does anyone else feel personally attacked by a blinking cursor? Just me? Okay. Good to know.

Here's what I've learned after writing more than thirty books: you cannot force good writing. You can sit at the desk, but the moment you start straining and striving and white-knuckling the keyboard, the words dry up.

Dana Rongione 04/03/2026 Dana Rongione 04/03/2026

What Does Fruit Actually Look Like?

We have blackberry brambles growing along the lane near our house in Wales.

Every summer, I walk past them on my way out to walk the dog, and every summer, I stop and stare. On the very same plant, you'll find two completely different stories. One branch is lush and heavy, bowing under the weight of dark, plump berries — leaves glossy, color deep, life just dripping off it. And right next to it? A brittle, grey, bare little stick. No leaves. No berries. Nothing to show for itself at all. Same plant. Same soil. Same rain. Completely different result.

Now, here's the thing. If you saw only the bare branch, you might not immediately know what you were looking at. Was it a blackberry? A rose? Something else entirely? Without fruit, it's awfully hard to identify the plant.

Jesus had something to say about that. "By their fruits ye shall know them." (Matthew 7:20)

Dana Rongione 02/03/2026 Dana Rongione 02/03/2026

Are You a Visitor or a Resident?

I have a confession to make.

For years, I treated my relationship with Christ like most people treat a vacation rental. I'd show up when I needed something, enjoy the warmth for a bit, maybe leave a nice note on the counter, and then go back to my regular life. I called it faith. I called it prayer. I called it being a Christian.

What I didn't call it was visiting.

And there is a world of difference between visiting a place and living there.

Think about it. When you visit somewhere, you pack a bag. You're a guest. You're on your best behavior, you use the nice towels, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you know you're going home eventually. But when you live somewhere? That's different. You know where the creaky floorboard is. You leave your shoes by the door. You don't have to knock. It's home.

Dana Rongione 17/11/2025 Dana Rongione 17/11/2025

Abiding in Christ

I've always been fascinated by Jesus' words in John 15:5: "I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing."

What does it truly mean to abide in Christ? It's far more than religious activity or spiritual box-ticking. Abiding is about maintaining a constant connection with Jesus, like a branch naturally draws life from the vine.

Think about it: branches don't strain to produce fruit. They simply stay connected to their life source. The branch doesn't wake up each morning with a to-do list: "Must make three grapes by noon!" No, fruit emerges organically when the branch remains attached to the vine.

Similarly, our spiritual fruit—love, joy, peace, patience, etc.—isn't manufactured through human effort.