I was in my mid-thirties, hitting milestones but still wrestling with purpose.

Fascinated by politics from the time I was a kid, I already had varied experiences that ranged from campaign grunt work and campus organizing to directing gubernatorial campaign policy and serving as a political appointee in President Reagan’s Justice Department. 

Within a year, I would become partner as a litigator at McGuireWoods, publish my first book on Virginia politics, and take a senior role in the promising new administration of Governor George Allen.

Things were moving fast, professionally and politically. My young family already was paying a price for it. And a still, small voice had begun to ask, “Who are you doing all this for?”

It was during this fertile time that I heard the story of Daniel. 

Tommy Nance, a gifted pastor and friend, brought Daniel’s experiences vividly to life in a series of sermons. The stories contained raw political drama, and they presented a heroic example of fidelity and perseverance that captured my imagination.

Daniel was a young man from a prominent Judean family. Taken captive during the Babylonian invasion, he was forced to serve in the faraway palace of a pagan king. There he refused to conform to the dominant culture, but he didn’t retreat from it either. He engaged – skillfully, and at great personal risk.

Improbably, he rose to high office and had an enormous positive impact. Practical yet principled, he hewed to his faith, drew strength from his friends, and got things done. But resentment and intrigue quickly followed: rivals schemed to take him down; allies and patrons let him down; and the king, looking out for himself, cast him down into the lions.

Daniel needed a miracle. He trusted, and received one. But doing the right thing in public life had nearly destroyed him.

Here, I saw, was the two-sided truth about political engagement, as relevant in today’s corridors of power as it was in the Babylonian palace well over two millennia ago. Here was the uplifting message that public service is a noble calling and that politics and governance are venues for productive contribution. Here, too, was a cautionary tale about the seductiveness of the political arena and the dangers of selfish ambition and self-righteousness.

It supplied a timeless lesson about the necessity of preparing for hard choices and knowing where you will draw the line.

Soon after hearing Tommy’s sermons, it hit me. The Book of Daniel might save somebody’s career, or conscience, even their soul – if they heard it. They might begin to look at politics and their purpose a new way, providing an opportunity for grace. But most politicos I knew weren’t spending their time mining ancient scripture for ethical insights.

What if I put Daniel and his contemporaries in a modern capital? In Richmond. In a governor’s office. In the crosshairs of modern media and money, around big egos and sharp elbows, in settings and situations that were dangerous, dramatic, relatable, and real.

I knew Virginia politics. I thought I could make the tale genuine and entertaining. And while I first had in mind helping others find their way to the Book of Daniel and its truths, the truth was I needed the help more than most. Before I could craft a story that presented real-world moral and ethical tests, I would have to answer some fundamental questions for myself.

Thus did this novel idea emerge … and the journey began.

For the next three decades, I drew elements of the story from the varied sources that life in the arena supplies—things experienced; personalities encountered; battles waged; ground gained and lost; mistakes made; lessons learned.

The story evolved as I did.  And, as American politics coarsened and convulsed around us, the project became more urgent. The lions weren’t just in Babylon anymore. They were in every capital where winning for oneself and one’s tribe became the all-consuming pursuit – in every public place where people who should know better subordinated the decent, right, and true to whatever would keep them in power.

While a biblical story first inspired the novel, a constitutional one came to animate it.

My protagonist’s name is Daniel Madison McGuire – Daniel for the exile who would not betray his values; Madison for the founder who conceived a way for imperfect people to govern themselves.

My reading during these years deepened my belief that our democracy’s future depends on rediscovering and applying its core principles – not just in law, but in our individual choices. That’s why the new subtitle is “Renewing Our Democracy By Renewing Ourselves.”     

With our democracy undergoing a stress test as it turns 250, it’s easy to dwell on what’s wrong – especially what others are doing wrong. There’s a lot of that these days. But democracy is about making choices, and the only choices we can really control are our own.

The message of The Lion’s Den is that we can choose now to choose well. 

We inevitably will make mistakes – this I know firsthand. But we can prepare for the challenging choices ahead by cultivating the character to see and do the right thing even when the cost is high.

Danny takes a lot of hard hits and goes through tough times in The Lion’s Den. He certainly is no starry-eyed idealist. But he finds his way to a good place, and I wrote this book because I believe we can, too.

Frank B. Atkinson
Independence Day, 2026