Who Was Daniel?
Faithfulness in a Foreign Land
A World Turned Upside Down
The story of Daniel starts in 605 BC with the sound of armies and the sight of smoke. Nebuchadnezzar II, king of the rising Neo-Babylonian Empire, has just defeated Egypt at the Battle of Carchemish and is now marching through the Levant, forcing kingdoms to submit. Jerusalem, already weakened from years caught between empires, has no choice but to surrender.
The book opens matter-of-factly:
“In the third year of the reign of King Jehoiakim of Judah, King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon came to Jerusalem and besieged it. The Lord let King Jehoiakim of Judah fall into his power, as well as some of the vessels of the house of God.”
—Daniel 1:1–2 (NRSV)
Notice how Daniel frames this catastrophe. He doesn’t say “Babylon conquered us” or “We were overpowered.” He says “The Lord let King Jehoiakim fall into his power.”
Right from the opening sentence, Daniel—the author and survivor of this tragedy—establishes the central theme of his entire book: God is in control. Even in defeat, even in exile, even when the temple vessels are being carted off to a pagan land, God hasn’t lost His throne. Nebuchadnezzar may think he’s calling the shots, but he’s actually playing a role in God’s larger plan.
This is crucial. Daniel is writing from Babylon, surrounded by evidence of Judah’s defeat. The city is destroyed. The temple is gone. They’re living under pagan rule. By every visible measure, it looks like God has been defeated by Babylon’s gods. But Daniel opens his book by saying: No. The Lord did this. God handed Jehoiakim over. God is sovereign even over catastrophe.
This theme echoes through every chapter. When Nebuchadnezzar has his dream about kingdoms rising and falling, it’s God who reveals it. When the three friends survive the furnace, it’s because God sent His angel. When Nebuchadnezzar loses his sanity, it’s because God humbled him. When Belshazzar falls, it’s because God numbered his days. When Daniel survives the lions, it’s God who shut their mouths. When empires rise and fall in Daniel’s visions, it’s always God who sets them up and takes them down.
Even chaos serves God’s purposes. Daniel isn’t writing a book about survival strategies or political commentary. He’s writing theology from the trenches—a testimony that no matter how dark it gets, no matter how powerful the empire, no matter how impossible the situation, God is still on His throne.
This was just the first wave. The Babylonians would return in 597 BC and again in 586 BC, each time taking more captives, until finally destroying Jerusalem completely—burning the temple, tearing down the walls, and deporting most of the population. For the people of Judah, this wasn’t just military defeat. Their city was gone. Their temple—the dwelling place of God—was ash. Everything that defined them had been stripped away.
Among the first group of exiles are four young men from Judah’s nobility: Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah. They’re probably teenagers, maybe early twenties. In Babylon, they’re enrolled in a three-year royal training program, taught the language and literature of the Chaldeans, given new Babylonian names, and offered the king’s own food and wine. It’s cultural assimilation at every level—a systematic attempt to transform them into Babylonians.
The Assault on Identity
One of the first things the Babylonians did was change their names. This wasn’t just bureaucratic paperwork—it was psychological warfare, an attempt to erase their very identities.
Look at what they lost:
Daniel (”God is my judge”) became Belteshazzar (”Bel protects his life” or “protect the king’s life”)
Hananiah (”Yahweh has been gracious”) became Shadrach (”command of Aku the moon god” or “I am very fearful of god”)
Mishael (”Who is what God is?”) became Meshach (”Who is as Aku is?” or “I am of little account”)
Azariah (”Yahweh has helped”) became Abednego (”servant of Nebo” or “servant of Nergal”)
Every single Hebrew name pointed to Yahweh—either using “El” (God) or “Yah” (short for Yahweh). Every time someone called their name back home, it was a reminder of who God was and what He had done. “God is my judge.” “Yahweh has been gracious.” “Yahweh has helped.”
Now? Their new names honored pagan gods. Bel. Aku. Nebo. Nergal.
Imagine being Daniel. For your entire childhood, every time someone called your name, you heard “God is my judge”—a constant reminder that you answered to the Most High. Now, dozens of times a day, you hear “Belteshazzar”—a name that honors a false god and a pagan king. Every roll call, every conversation, every official document chips away at your identity.
For Mishael, it’s even worse. His name had meant “Who is what God is?”—a declaration of God’s incomparability. Now he’s called Meshach, possibly meaning “I am of little account.” From being defined by God’s greatness to being told daily that he’s worthless.
This is what exile looked like. Not just losing your home, but losing your name. Not just being displaced geographically, but being erased culturally and spiritually.
But something in them doesn’t break.
“But Daniel resolved that he would not defile himself with the royal rations of food and wine; so he asked the palace master to allow him not to defile himself.”
—Daniel 1:8 (NRSV)
It’s not a dramatic protest. Just a quiet line in the sand. Daniel asks for vegetables and water instead, and God honors that faithfulness. Right from the start, the book shows us that staying true to God doesn’t always mean grand gestures. Sometimes it’s just choosing integrity when no one’s watching.
The Dream That Wouldn’t Stay Buried
One night, Nebuchadnezzar has a dream that terrifies him. When he wakes up, he demands that his advisors tell him both what he dreamed and what it means—an impossible test. When they can’t do it, he orders all the wise men of Babylon executed, including Daniel and his friends.
Daniel asks for time, goes home, and prays with his friends. That night, God reveals the mystery. The next morning, Daniel tells the king:
“No wise men, enchanters, magicians, or diviners can show to the king the mystery that the king is asking, but there is a God in heaven who reveals mysteries, and he has disclosed to King Nebuchadnezzar what will happen at the end of days.”
—Daniel 2:27–28 (NRSV)
The dream was about a massive statue—head of gold, chest of silver, belly of bronze, legs of iron, feet mixed with iron and clay. Each metal represented a kingdom. Then a stone, cut without human hands, smashed the statue to dust.
Daniel explains:
“And in the days of those kings the God of heaven will set up a kingdom that shall never be destroyed, nor shall this kingdom be left to another people. It shall crush all these kingdoms and bring them to an end, and it shall stand forever.”—Daniel 2:44 (NRSV)
Empires rise. Empires fall. Babylon, mighty as it seems, is just one more. But God’s kingdom? That one lasts.
Nebuchadnezzar is stunned:
“Truly, your God is God of gods and Lord of kings and a revealer of mysteries, for you have been able to reveal this mystery!”—Daniel 2:47 (NRSV)
When the Furnace Gets Hot
Sometime later, Nebuchadnezzar builds a massive golden statue—ninety feet tall—and commands everyone in the empire to bow to it when the music plays. Daniel’s three friends refuse.
Their answer to the king is unforgettable:
“If our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the furnace of blazing fire and out of your hand, O king, let him deliver us. But if not, be it known to you, O king, that we will not serve your gods and we will not worship the golden statue that you have set up.”—Daniel 3:17–18 (NRSV)
Read that again. Even if God doesn’t save us, we’re still not bowing.
They get thrown into a furnace so hot it kills the soldiers who throw them in. But when the king looks inside, he sees four figures walking around unharmed.
“He replied, ‘But I see four men unbound, walking in the middle of the fire, and they are not hurt; and the fourth has the appearance of a god.’” —Daniel 3:25 (NRSV)
In the fire, God shows up.
Pride and Punishment
Nebuchadnezzar gets arrogant. He looks at Babylon—with its famous hanging gardens, its massive walls, its glory—and takes all the credit:
“The king said, ‘Is this not magnificent Babylon, which I have built as a royal capital by my mighty power and for my glorious majesty?’”—Daniel 4:30 (NRSV)
Before he even finishes the sentence, a voice from heaven cuts through:
“While the words were still in the king’s mouth, a voice came from heaven: ‘O King Nebuchadnezzar, to you it is declared: The kingdom has departed from you!’”
—Daniel 4:31 (NRSV)
He loses his sanity, is driven from human society, and lives like an animal for seven years. Only when he finally looks up to heaven and acknowledges God does his sanity return:
“When that period was over, I, Nebuchadnezzar, lifted my eyes to heaven, and my reason returned to me. I blessed the Most High, and praised and honored the one who lives forever... His kingdom endures from generation to generation.”—Daniel 4:34 (NRSV)
Humility restores him.
Belshazzar’s Last Party
Years pass. Nebuchadnezzar dies. Eventually, his descendant Belshazzar becomes king. At a massive banquet, Belshazzar orders that the sacred vessels taken from Jerusalem’s temple be brought out so he and his guests can drink wine from them—a deliberate act of mockery.
Then, suddenly, a hand appears and starts writing on the wall:
“Immediately, the fingers of a human hand appeared and began writing on the plaster of the wall of the royal palace, next to the lampstand.”—Daniel 5:5 (NRSV)
The words: MENE, MENE, TEKEL, and PARSIN.
Nobody can read it except Daniel. He tells the king what it means:
MENE — Your days are numbered.
TEKEL — You’ve been weighed and found lacking.
PERES — Your kingdom is being divided and given away.
“That very night Belshazzar, the Chaldean king, was killed.”—Daniel 5:30 (NRSV)
That same night in 539 BC, Cyrus the Persian and his forces took Babylon. The Neo-Babylonian Empire was over.
The Lions’ Den
Under the new Persian administration, a ruler identified as “Darius the Mede” takes control of the Babylonian region. Daniel, now an old man, continues to excel. He’s so good at his job that the other officials get jealous.
They set a trap. They convince the king to pass a law: for thirty days, no one can pray to anyone except the king. It’s aimed directly at Daniel.
Does Daniel hide his faith? Change his routine? Nope.
“Although Daniel knew that the document had been signed, he continued to go to his house, which had windows in its upper room open toward Jerusalem, and to get down on his knees three times a day to pray to his God and praise him, just as he had done previously.” —Daniel 6:10 (NRSV)
He gets caught. The king—who actually likes Daniel—has no choice under his own law. Daniel is thrown into a pit of lions.
The next morning:
“Daniel then said to the king, ‘O king, live forever! My God sent his angel and shut the lions’ mouths so that they would not hurt me, because I was found blameless before him; and also before you, O king, I have done no wrong.’” —Daniel 6:21–22 (NRSV)
Once again, humble faithfulness wins.
Visions of Beasts and Heaven’s Court
The second half of Daniel shifts from stories about Daniel to Daniel’s own visions. He sees four terrifying beasts rising from the sea—symbols of kingdoms that devour and destroy:
“I, Daniel, saw in my vision by night the four winds of heaven stirring up the great sea, and four great beasts came up out of the sea, different from one another.” —Daniel 7:2–3 (NRSV)
Then the scene changes. Heaven’s courtroom:
“As I watched, thrones were set in place, and an Ancient One took his throne, his clothing was white as snow, and the hair of his head like pure wool; his throne was fiery flames, and its wheels were burning fire.” —Daniel 7:9 (NRSV)
And suddenly:
“As I watched in the night visions, I saw one like a human being coming with the clouds of heaven. And he came to the Ancient One and was presented before him. To him was given dominion and glory and kingship, that all peoples, nations, and languages should serve him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that shall not pass away, and his kingship is one that shall never be destroyed.” —Daniel 7:13–14 (NRSV)
Where human kingdoms become monstrous, God’s kingdom brings healing and justice.
Hope for the Long Haul
The exile lasted approximately seventy years, from the first deportations in 605 BC until Cyrus issued his decree allowing Jews to return in 538 BC. Daniel’s later visions acknowledge that suffering will continue—wars, conflicts, persecution. He searches the Scriptures, trying to understand when it will all end. An angel tells him it’s going to be longer and harder than expected.
But God hasn’t forgotten.
The book ends with this promise:
“Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever.” —Daniel 12:3 (NRSV)
What Daniel Teaches Us
Daniel lived his entire adult life in exile. Foreign land. Foreign rulers. Constant pressure to compromise. He answered to a pagan name for seventy years. But his story shows us:
Your identity isn’t determined by what others call you. Daniel and his friends were called by pagan names for decades, but they never forgot whose they were. The world can try to rename you, redefine you, reshape you—but your true identity is anchored in God.
Faithfulness is possible even when everything feels upside-down. You don’t need to be in the “right” place or have the “right” circumstances to honor God.
Small acts of integrity matter. Daniel’s quiet decision about food in chapter 1 set the trajectory for his entire life. Faithfulness in small things builds faithfulness in big things.
Courage doesn’t mean you won’t be afraid. It means you do the right thing anyway.
Exile isn’t the end of the story. Even in Babylon, God was at work.
The message is clear: human kingdoms come and go, but God’s kingdom lasts forever.