The story of Daniel in the lions’ den is so familiar that we can almost forget how shocking it is.
An old man — loyal, wise, and faithful — thrown into a pit of hungry lions because he refused to stop praying.

No rebellion, no violence — just prayer.
And for that, the empire condemned him.

It’s the oldest story of persecution there is:
when faithfulness to God clashes with the demands of the world.
Daniel would rather face lions than compromise prayer.
That’s courage — not noisy or defiant, but calm and unshakable.

The real drama happens before the lions’ den.
A royal decree goes out: no one may pray to any god or man except the king for thirty days.
For Daniel, that meant a choice:
obey the king or obey God.

He doesn’t make a speech.
He doesn’t protest in the streets.
He simply opens his window, kneels, and prays — as he always did.

That’s the power of habit in holiness.
When the crisis came, Daniel didn’t need to invent courage —
he just kept doing what he’d always done.

Faithfulness in ordinary days prepares us for extraordinary trials.
A Christian who prays daily will not forget God when the lions roar.

We know what happens next.
Daniel is thrown into the den, the stone rolled across the entrance.
The king cannot sleep. He admires Daniel, but he’s trapped by his own law.
At dawn he rushes to the pit and cries out,

“Daniel, has your God been able to save you?”

And from the darkness comes a calm voice:

“My God sent His angel and shut the lions’ mouths.”

That’s the moment of victory — not Daniel’s cleverness,
but God’s faithfulness.

The lions don’t vanish; they stay where they are.
Faith doesn’t remove danger; it turns it into testimony.

In the same way, the Church still lives among lions —
the lions of hostility, cynicism, and indifference —
but the same God still shuts their mouths.
The faith survives because it belongs to the Living God.

Daniel isn’t saved from the lions’ den — he’s saved in it.
And that’s how God works.
He doesn’t always take us out of suffering,
but He never leaves us alone in it.

The Gospel continues the same theme.
Jesus speaks of turmoil and terror — Jerusalem surrounded by armies,
signs in the heavens, distress on the earth.

And then He says something completely different:

“When these things begin to take place,
stand tall and hold your heads high,
because your redemption is near.”

Most people duck for cover when the world shakes.
Jesus tells believers to stand taller.

Why?
Because the same God who closed the lions’ mouths
will not abandon His people in any age.

When others panic, the disciple hopes.
When others despair, the Church keeps watch.
Because we know how the story ends:
not in chaos, but in Christ.

We may not face actual lions,
but every Christian still lives in the den —
in workplaces where faith is mocked,
in media that sneers at the sacred,
in a world that prizes comfort over conscience.

Our test is the same as Daniel’s:
will we pray anyway?

Will we still give time to God when the world calls it foolish?
Will we still speak the truth when silence would be safer?
Will we live as Catholics even when the culture rolls its eyes?

If we do, the same God will be with us.
He will send His angel — maybe not to close lions’ mouths,
but to keep our faith alive, steady, joyful.

The Church has faced the roar of persecution for two thousand years —
empires have come and gone —
and still she prays with her windows open toward heaven.

Daniel emerges from the den alive —
and the king who condemned him now proclaims:

“The God of Daniel is the living God, enduring forever;
His kingdom shall never be destroyed.”

That’s the summary of Scripture,
and the promise of today’s Gospel.

Human kingdoms rise and fall.
Faithful hearts endure.
The God who saved Daniel still saves His Church —
not from suffering, but through it.

So when the lions roar —
in the news, in the workplace, in your heart —
remember Daniel.
Keep your window open toward heaven.
Keep praying.
Keep trusting.
And when the dawn comes,
you’ll hear the same words of promise:

“Stand tall, hold your head high,
your redemption is near.”