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Dana Rongione Dana Rongione

Can You Really Laugh When Your Day Falls Apart?

Some mornings announce themselves early. Within minutes of crawling out of bed, I knew it was going to be one of those days. It was the kind of morning when you think about pulling the covers back over your head and trying again tomorrow.

Instead, I stumbled into the kitchen to wrangle breakfast. I juggled bacon, dishes, and a dozen little tasks. Then I grabbed the milk from the fridge. It's the kind that needs a good shake, so I shook it vigorously, like a maraca at a fiesta.

You see where this is going, right? 

Did I check the cap before my little fiesta dance? 

No. No, I did not.

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Jacob’s Rock-Bottom Dream

If I were Jacob, I'd be grumpy. His brother wants him dead (not that he didn't bring that on himself). He's left home with little more than a walking stick, and the sun has gone down in the middle of nowhere. There's no inn and no pillow. So he does what any desperate traveler would do and grabs a rock. Comfy, huh? Genesis 28:11 says he put the stones "for his pillows." Plural. Rocks everywhere, and not a memory-foam mattress in sight.

Then comes the dream. A ladder stands on the earth with its top reaching to heaven. Angels go up and down like rush hour at a holy train station. At the top stands the LORD Himself, who makes Jacob a promise:

"And, behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places whither thou goest... for I will not leave thee, until I have done that which I have spoken to thee of." (Genesis 28:15)

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Is the Christian Life Supposed To Be This Hard?

I'll admit something. For years, I pictured the Christian race as a Sunday-afternoon jog. I saw myself in cute sneakers with a gentle breeze in my hair, waving at the neighbors and admiring the scenery. "It's a marathon, not a sprint," I'd say, as if a marathon were just a sprint with better snacks.

Then I looked up the Greek word for "race" in Hebrews 12:1, and my smoothie hit the pavement.

The word is agōn, and yes, it's where we get "agony." It was the word for the contests held in the great stadiums, where athletes strained, gasped, and gave everything they had. The word carries the idea of struggle and conflict. Nobody in that arena was admiring the scenery.

We love the race verse. We put it on mugs and bookmarks. But we rarely talk about what it's like to run it on mile nineteen, with a blister, a headache, and a to-do list that's grown legs.

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Spiritual discernment, Spiritual Growth, Counsel Dana Rongione Spiritual discernment, Spiritual Growth, Counsel Dana Rongione

Truth or Tradition?

Over the years, I've heard some strange things from the pulpit. Not merely differences in preference, mind you, but teachings built on assumptions, verses taken out of context, or ideas not found in the Bible at all. Yes, I've sat through many sermons squirming in my seat (and not just because of my back pain) and biting my tongue because the eloquent and educated speaker sounded good, but what he was saying simply wasn't biblical.

Now, before anyone sharpens a pitchfork, let me be clear: preachers, teachers, speakers, and Christian writers are human. We make mistakes. I know I have. I have taught or written things in the past that I believed were correct, but further study showed me I missed the mark. That is humbling. It's also slightly inconvenient when you've put the mistake in print for all the world to see. Yikes!

That is exactly why I regularly tell my readers and Bible-study students, "Check up on me."

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Worry Never Sees the Plot Twist

I had the calendar memorized, not because I wanted to, but because every time I glanced at it, my heart picked up speed and my stomach tied itself into a sailor's knot.

First, a team meeting. Then a harvest service, meaning extra time on church pews, those lovely wooden torture devices designed by someone who clearly never had a back issue. Then Sunday: out the door at 8:00 a.m., two and a half hours of travel, a full day of services, and the drive home, rolling in after 8:00 p.m. Then another harvest service, more pews, and another weekend away with another long drive, an overnight stay, and yes, more pews.

Meanwhile, life refused to take a vacation. The dog still needed walking. The dishes still multiplied like rabbits. Paperwork needed filing, devotions needed writing, and events needed planning. I had been dreading it for weeks. I told myself not to, and I really tried. But my nerves, apparently, didn't get the memo.

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