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Dana Rongione 08/05/2026 Dana Rongione 08/05/2026

Thankful in the Dark

I've heard the story of Daniel in the lion's den approximately four thousand times, give or take. Flannel-graph versions, Sunday school coloring pages, VBS skits—I've seen it all. I could probably narrate it in my sleep. And yet, just this week, I was reading through Daniel 6 when six words leapt off the page and stopped me cold.

"...and gave thanks before his God." (Daniel 6:10)

Now, wait. Hold on just a minute. How did I miss that?

Let's back up and remember what was happening at that precise moment. The other presidents and princes, who were not fond of Daniel, had just convinced King Darius to sign an iron-clad, unbreakable law: pray to anyone other than the king for the next thirty days, and you get tossed to the lions. No exceptions. No appeals. No loopholes.

Daniel knew about the law. The very next verse tells us so:

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 17/04/2026 Dana Rongione 17/04/2026

You Survived the Fire! Let God Take the Smell, Too!

Can I tell you about three men who should have smelled terrible?

Picture it. Babylon, circa 600 B.C. King Nebuchadnezzar has erected a golden image ninety feet tall and commanded every living soul at the ceremony to bow down and worship it. The penalty for non-compliance? A furnace.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego refused to bow.

So, they were hauled before the king and given one last chance to comply. When they politely declined, with what I can only imagine was the most serene look on their faces, they were bound and thrown into that furnace. It was so hot that the soldiers who threw them in were killed just by getting near the opening. The flames swallowed those three faithful men whole.

And then... nothing.

Well, not nothing. Nebuchadnezzar leaped to his feet in a panic. "Did we not cast three men bound into the midst of the fire?" His advisors confirmed it.

Dana Rongione 15/04/2026 Dana Rongione 15/04/2026

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.

Dana Rongione 13/04/2026 Dana Rongione 13/04/2026

How To Turn on the Light When Fear Is Swooping

I have a confession to make: I am afraid of things that don't exist.

Not ghosts or monsters under the bed. I outgrew those...mostly. No, I'm talking about the imaginary monsters I construct out of thin air whenever I face a new deadline, a hard conversation, or an unexpected season of life. I can build something terrifying out of nothing, and sadly, I'm quite good at it.

Turns out, I'm in good company. Not just with other anxious humans, but with ancient settlers who looked up into the twilight sky and panicked over a little bird called the nighthawk.

By name alone, the nighthawk sounds ferocious. Something with hawk in the title ought to have razor-sharp talons, a hooked beak, and zero patience for your nonsense. Early observers watched it swooping through the dusk and slapped the most fearful label they could find on it: Hawk. Done.

The terror only grew worse from there.