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Daniel and the Lion's Den is a fun story. I think it's one of my children's favourites. But at the heart of this story there's a very serious question.
The answer to that question is what it takes to make a stand in a family. It's what it takes to have courage to be distinctive at work when you feel afraid as a Christian. It's what it takes to be countercultural in a city like London, living for a thousand different idols. And it's a question you need to stake your life on. It's Darius's question in chapter 6 verse 20:
When he came near the den, he called to Daniel in an anguished voice, "Daniel, servant of the living God, has your God, whom you serve continually, been able to rescue you from the lions?"
Is God able to rescue you from the lions? Does he have it in him? Is God stronger than the opposition? Is God stronger than death? That's the question at the heart of the story.
Is the God that you serve able to rescue you from the proverbial lion's den of opposition to your obedient Christian faith? If he's not, well, why bother? Why bother going through the hard, painful work of obedience?
If the question is "Is God able to rescue you?", then the conflict of the story is about law. It's about the law of Darius the king and the law of God. Sixteen times in the story the word "law" or "decree" or "edict" is used. It's Darius's law versus the law of God.
Daniel is the man caught in the middle of the two. He has a choice to make: whose law is he going to obey? And actually, it's the choice we all have to make every day. Who will we obey?
Our decision will depend on the answer to Darius's question: And Daniel is here to show us he can.
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Last week we looked at chapter 5, where the writing was on the wall for King Belshazzar in Babylon. For his stubborn pride, God brought his reign to an end through the empire of the Medes and Persians.
As we join the story, Daniel is on his seventh king. He's probably been in Babylon around 67 years, aged around 80, working as a civil servant. He's been made a satrap — a very senior position — and he's very good at it. He's greatly trusted by the king, so good that the king wants to promote him to oversee the whole kingdom.
This is the point where the trouble comes. His colleagues don't want that to happen, and they're happy to use any means to stop it, because they're jealous. If he's set over the whole kingdom, they're not — and he's not one of them. He's an exile from Jerusalem.
So they tried to find corruption in his conduct of government affairs. But they couldn't find anything. There were no fiddled expenses to tell the press about. No deleted emails screenshotted and posted around the office. No working-from-home days sitting in the pub caught on CCTV. We're told in verse 4 that he's trustworthy and neither corrupt nor negligent.
When it comes to the cloak-and-dagger game of the civil service in Babylon, Daniel has a superpower: his integrity. And the evil genius of the other satraps is to use his superpower against him.
Finally these men said, "We will never find any basis for charges against this man Daniel unless it has something to do with the law of his God."
All these years, Daniel kept his integrity because the ultimate law he obeys is God's. He's spent 60-something years making the best of a bad situation, loving God and loving his neighbour. And now they use that very faithfulness against him — because God's law says you cannot pray to any other gods. The first of the ten commandments.
So they set up a competition between God's law and Darius's law. They're saying, "Go on, Daniel. Which one is real? Which is stronger? Which will you obey?"
And they're clever in how they set it up:
The royal ministers, prefects, satraps, advisers and governors have all agreed that the king should issue an edict... that anyone who prays to any god or human being during the next 30 days, except to you, your majesty, shall be thrown into the lion's den. Now, your majesty, issue the decree and put it in writing so that it cannot be altered.
As they expect, Daniel walks into the trap. But not naively — he just does what he always does.
Now when Daniel learned that the decree had been published, he went home to his upstairs room where the windows opened towards Jerusalem. Three times a day he got down on his knees and prayed, giving thanks to his God, just as he had done before.
When the pressure is on, keep calm and carry on. What struck me is that the crisis doesn't make Daniel triple his efforts and do more. The crisis simply reveals the faithfulness that's been there all along. Year after year, he just gets on praying and trusting the Lord.
And what he's praying for three times a day, I think, is his people's return to their promised home in Jerusalem. Did you notice the detail in verse 10? He prays where the window opens towards Jerusalem. There's a reason.
Some 500 years earlier, in 1 Kings 8, King Solomon prayed at the dedication of the temple, asking God to show mercy in various future events. His prayers followed a pattern: "When this happens and your people pray, then hear them from heaven." When it came to future exile, Solomon said:
If they pray to you toward the land you gave their ancestors, toward the city you have chosen and the temple I have built for your Name, then from heaven your dwelling place, hear their prayer and their plea, and uphold their cause.
Daniel is being obedient to this from exile. He faces Jerusalem and prays for his people's return. His hope isn't in Babylon; it's in Jerusalem. That's where his heart is. When it comes to his choice — Darius's law or God's law — Daniel makes his decision with unflinching obedience.
The satraps go as a group, see Daniel praying, and scuttle off to tell the king. Again, they're cunning. In verse 12 they ask the king about the decree as if they've forgotten it. The king says, "Of course it stands." Then they make their move:
Then they said to the king, "Daniel, who is one of the exiles from Judah, pays no attention to you, your majesty, or to the decree you put in writing. He still prays three times a day."
Good movie directors carefully choose which characters the camera focuses on during the tense parts. Notice that the camera of the narrative now isn't on Daniel — it's all on Darius.
It would be interesting to know what Daniel was feeling. What was it like, aged 80, to be thrown into a den of lions? Did he talk to the angel in there? Did it glow in the dark? So many questions — and we don't get them. Instead, the camera points at Darius, and we're told exactly what he was feeling and what his night's sleep was like.
Because this story is here to show us that the power of the most powerful king in the land was utterly powerless to save when it mattered most.
When the king heard this, he was greatly distressed. He was determined to rescue Daniel and made every effort until sunset to save him.
Every effort. All the levers of power at his disposal couldn't do it. The law of the Medes and the Persians can't be overturned. So with no choice, the king gives the order, and in goes this old man. A stone is rolled over the entrance, sealed with Darius's own signet ring.
Have you ever had a night where you're so anxious you've got no appetite, can't concentrate, can't sleep, just tossing and turning? That's how Darius feels this night. Weak.
And irony of ironies — did you spot that Darius breaks his own law? In verse 16 he praises Daniel's God. Then at first light of dawn he hurries to the den and cries out, "Has your God, whom you serve continually, been able to rescue you from the lions?" Because Darius knows he can't do it. The man who set himself up as the only god to be prayed to — powerless, weak Darius. He's the weak king.
The hero of this story — and ultimately of every Bible story — is God himself. Imagine the joy on Darius's face as he hears these words coming up out of the den:
Daniel answered, "May the king live forever! My God sent his angel, and he shut the mouths of the lions. They have not hurt me, because I was found innocent in his sight. Nor have I ever done any wrong before you, your majesty."
Unlike Darius, God is the one who held back the lions. God is the one who, by his own perfect and true law, found Daniel innocent. God is the one who had power to protect Daniel because Daniel trusted in him.
By Darius's own law, Daniel can now technically walk away free — he's been thrown in and come out the other side. And just to prove there's nothing wrong with the lions' appetite, Darius has the officials thrown in with their families, and they're eaten on the spot. The message is crystal clear: God is the one who protected Daniel miraculously.
As the story closes, Darius does a complete 180. He began by commanding that he alone be revered as god. He finishes by commanding that God be revered:
I issue a decree that in every part of my kingdom people must fear and reverence the God of Daniel. For he is the living God and he endures forever. His kingdom will not be destroyed; his dominion will never end. He rescues and he saves. He performs signs and wonders in the heavens and on the earth. He has rescued Daniel from the power of the lions.
Kings come and they go. Their kingdoms come and go. But God endures forever, and his kingdom has no end. Darius has no power to save, but God will perform signs and wonders to show that he can and will save.
Our response to this kind of God, in verse 26, is fear and reverence — not terror, and not just respect, but a recognition that God alone is living, enduring, and rescuing. He's worthy of absolute allegiance. When his law is challenged, there's really no competition. As Darius himself says, the God we fear rules over everything else we might be afraid of.
That's the big lesson of chapter 6: fear and revere God over anyone or anything else.
Daniel is a model of integrity and trust in God under the most intense pressure. Here are three ways to grow that in ourselves.
In the story, Daniel clearly breaks the law of Darius. Yet notice the language in verse 22: "Nor have I ever done any wrong before you, your majesty." And in verse 24, those who accused Daniel are described as having falsely accused him — though by the letter of Babylonian law that's not correct.
It is correct if there's a higher law — God's law — to which all other laws are held accountable. In that contest, God's law always wins. Peter puts it like this:
Show proper respect to everyone, love the family of believers, fear God, honour the emperor.
Peter is writing about the Roman emperor Nero, who ran a state-sponsored persecution of Christians. Human authorities are worthy of honour, including obedience to their good laws — but fear is due to God alone. It's a pyramid of hierarchy.
When making decisions, I often ask, "What's the worst-case scenario?" — then trace it to its final consequence and decide based on the risk. When it comes to Christian obedience, there's a danger in that thinking. It's often the fear of consequences that stops us living boldly as Christians. We worry, and try to keep the consequences under our own control.
But the lesson of the story is that consequences are not always ours to control. In the New Testament, the only time we're told to consider the consequences of Christian obedience is when weighing up whether to become a Christian in the first place. Once you've made that decision, then — like Daniel — just get on with being obedient to God and let the chips fall where they may.
I'm not being flippant. It cost Daniel a lot. But sometimes the worst-case scenario we fear won't happen. You could cause conflict in your family, and then they might become Christians. You might make a stand at work, and a non-Christian colleague comes up afterwards and says, "Thank you for saying that — I've been thinking it for ages but was too scared."
On the other hand, the worst-case scenario might happen. It might be the hardest thing you've ever gone through. If you're in a non-Christian family and are told, "If you follow Jesus, you'll bring shame on us," then so be it — because my obedience belongs to my heavenly Father. The consequences aren't mine to control, and there's great freedom and peace in that.
Consequences aren't mine to control, but my obedience is. Daniel just went home and did what he always did: he prayed.
The New Jerusalem is what the Bible calls heaven — the new, perfect creation Jesus will bring when he returns. In Daniel's time, before Jesus, it was right for him to pray literally facing the earthly city of Jerusalem.
We today are like Daniel: exiles in the here and now. Our true spiritual home is in heaven, and we're not there yet. One of the hard things as a Christian is that the people around us are screaming, "Make heaven on earth now!" — a forever home, a hundred countries to see before you die, more and more money for yourself. Make heaven on earth now.
But Daniel prayed with his eyes towards Jerusalem, praying for his people's return. So let's pray with our eyes fixed on the heavenly Jerusalem. That means praying, "Come, Lord Jesus. May your kingdom come, may your will be done." It means making eternal priorities the centre of your prayers. As you pray that way, it shapes your heart to live for that world, not just for this one.
With eternity in our mind's eye, the difficult questions come into perspective — stuff, experiences, money. What's the point in having heaven on earth now but missing out then? Jesus said:
Whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me and for the gospel will save it. What good is it for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul?
God shutting the mouths of the lions is one reason for our confidence in him. But how much more so the resurrection of Jesus Christ?
Consider the striking similarities between Daniel and Jesus. Jesus, like Daniel, was a man of absolute integrity, with enemies in authority who wanted to trap him — yet he stayed obedient to his Father's will. Jesus was arrested while praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. He was brought before a powerless ruler, Pontius Pilate, who didn't really want him executed. Jesus was innocent, yet sentenced to a cruel death. He was placed in a tomb with a stone rolled over the front — and then lifted up and out of that tomb, alive and well.
Is God able to save you? Because Jesus died and rose again, when we die, we too will rise again. According to Open Doors, on average 13 Christians are murdered every day because of their faith. God is able to save them from the grave and take them to the New Jerusalem — because Jesus, the true and better Daniel, died and rose again.
So who will you obey this week? If God is able to save you from the proverbial lion's den, and if God is able to save you from the grave, then fear and revere God. Obedience to him is always the right decision.
Let's pray. Our Father, we revere you before any other law or challenge or claim to be God. Father, you are the living God. You endure forever. Your kingdom will not be destroyed; your dominion will know no end. So help us, Father, looking at the Lord Jesus Christ, to be obedient — come what may — that we may fear and revere you above all else. Amen.
