Dan Bongino served his final day as deputy director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation on Saturday, returning to civilian life on Sunday after less than a year of public service.

Bongino first announced mid-December that he would be departing from the bureau in the New Year. On Saturday, Bongino made his departure official, signing off in a post on X.

‘I gave up everything for this.’

“It was a busy last day on the job,” Bongino said. “This will be my last post on this account. Tomorrow I return to civilian life.”

“It’s been an incredible year thanks to the leadership and decisiveness of President Trump,” Bongino added. “It was the honor of a lifetime to work with Director Patel, and to serve you, the American people. See you on the other side.”

RELATED: Trump suggests Dan Bongino will leave the FBI: ‘He wants to go back to his show’

Photo by Roy Rochlin/Getty Images

President Donald Trump praised Bongino, who first assumed office in March.

“Dan did a great job,” Trump said. “I think he wants to go back to his show.”

Ahead of his departure, Bongino spoke about the toll his job had taken on his personal life and his family, pointing to the demanding nature of the position.

RELATED: Bongino and Bondi clash over botched handling of Epstein files

“I gave up everything for this,” Bongino told “Fox & Friends” in a May appearance.

“I stare at these four walls all day in D.C., by myself, divorced from my wife — not divorced, but I mean separated — and it’s hard,” Bongino added. “I mean, we love each other, and it’s hard to be apart.”

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​Donald trump, Dan bongino, Kash patel, Fbi, Trump administration, Federal bureau of investigation, Fox & friends, Politics 

For decades, Americans heard the same justification for high drug prices. Pharmaceutical executives insisted those prices were unavoidable. Research costs required them. Innovation depended on them. The United States, as the world’s most open market, had to pay more than everyone else.

Then Eli Lilly cut the monthly price of one of its flagship weight-loss drugs, Zepbound.

If lower prices matter, then incentives matter more than bureaucracy. Competition and consumer access drive real change.

Nothing about the drug changed. No new scientific breakthrough appeared. The only thing that changed was competition. Once real pressure entered the market, Lilly found room in its pricing model that executives had long claimed did not exist.

The market responded quickly. Novo Nordisk, Lilly’s primary rival, lowered its prices soon after. This did not reflect a sudden gain in efficiency. It reflected fear of losing ground to a competitor.

That is how functioning markets work. When one major player moves, others adjust. The correction happens faster than any federal agency could hope to manage.

The irony is hard to miss. For years, the industry claimed margins were fixed and untouchable. Executives warned that any shift would damage shareholders and undermine global health. Yet the moment one company blinked, others followed. Consumers saw relief not because regulators intervened, but because competition exposed the old narrative as hollow.

Another force reinforced that shift. On Nov. 6, the White House announced a pricing agreement with major drug manufacturers scheduled to take effect in 2026. The agreement aims to narrow the gap between U.S. prices and those in other advanced economies and establishes a purchasing framework that makes reductions easier to implement.

That move marked a break from Washington’s habit of passively accepting industry talking points. The administration did not override the market. It amplified momentum competition had already created. Companies that once refused to consider cuts began to bend once the political cost of rigidity became clear. The announcement accelerated the trend, but competition started it.

A larger reality deserves attention. Major pharmaceutical companies have posted enormous profits for years. They have spent billions on stock buybacks and shareholder payouts while executive compensation soared. Market valuations across the sector reached historic highs. Lilly even became the first pharmaceutical company to surpass a trillion-dollar valuation.

Profit itself is not the problem. But competition forcing these firms to behave more like the quasi-utilities they resemble marks a welcome change from a system long treated as untouchable.

RELATED: The party that made life more expensive wants credit for noticing

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That system rests on a global arrangement in which Americans shoulder a disproportionate share of drug development costs. Wealthy nations negotiate prices or impose caps. The United States does not. The gap between what Americans pay and what others pay funds buybacks, dividends, and executive packages. Shareholders collect the upside.

The disparity speaks for itself. Drugs that cost hundreds of dollars overseas cost thousands here. The industry defended that gap by warning that research would collapse if prices fell. The current price cuts prove otherwise. Pipelines remain intact. Investment continues. Profitability holds. The model did not break when prices moved downward. It adjusted.

These developments expose a simple truth. Prices never reflected necessity. Incentives shaped them, reinforced by limited competition and political deference. Competition cracked open an inflexible model. The White House helped widen the opening.

Policymakers should learn from that sequence. If lower prices matter, then incentives matter more than bureaucracy. Competition and consumer access drive real change. The bloated regulatory machinery Washington favors often delays it. The market moved before Congress could even respond.

For Americans struggling to afford essential medication, that lesson matters most. Competition remains the strongest and most reliable force for bringing prices down.

It worked here. It can work again — if policymakers allow markets to function and pharmaceutical companies choose access over insulation.

​Opinion & analysis, Drugs, Drug prices, Big pharma, Pharmaceutical companies, Novo nordisk, Eli lilly, Weight loss drugs, Free markets, Congress, Donald trump, Executive orders 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer once wrote from a prison cell, “It is only by living completely in this world that one learns to have faith.” He wrote those words after the world had closed in, when faith could no longer remain theoretical.

I live with someone who understands exactly what he meant.

In those moments, belief stops being a feeling and becomes a claim. Not something you summon, but something you test.

My wife, Gracie, has lived with disabilities for virtually her entire life. Hospital rooms and operating schedules do not interrupt our life — they form its familiar terrain. Over time, suffering has stopped being a concept and become a place we recognize.

I also have a friend who understands what Bonhoeffer was describing.

Her name is Joni Eareckson Tada. A diving accident in her teens left her a quadriplegic. Her life has unfolded under paralysis, chronic pain, and illness. She does not approach suffering from a distance.

Last year, during one of Gracie’s long hospital stays, Joni called.

Most people asked about Gracie. Joni did too. But then she asked about me.

That question deserved more than a stock reply.

I paused.

Moments like that strip away emotional self-examination and force you to examine your claims instead.

As I spoke with Joni, I shared something that has steadied me for decades.

In our church, there came a moment when the pastor would stop, look out over the congregation, and ask a single question: “Christian, what do you believe?”

We did not improvise. We did not search for language that felt expressive or current. We stood and recited the Apostles’ Creed or the Nicene Creed. No personal spin. No tailoring belief to the moment. Just a clear declaration of what had been received.

That question stayed with me.

It returned again and again over the years, especially in places where explanations had lost their usefulness. I learned the limits of “why.” Even good answers rarely hold steady there.

In those moments, belief stops being a feeling and becomes a claim. Not something you summon, but something you test.

If Christ is who I say He is, then what does that require of me here?

I was not trying to manufacture courage or resolve. I was asking whether the faith I professed in calm settings could bear weight when standing itself cost something.

“Christian, what do you believe?”

Over time, many of the questions I once carried narrowed to that one. Not because the pain diminished or the losses stopped coming, but because belief, when real, clarifies responsibility.

The apostle Peter tells believers to be ready to give an answer for the hope within them. That readiness has nothing to do with eloquence. It comes from knowing where you stand.

As a new year begins, many caregivers feel little sense of reset, except for the deductible and the co-pay.

Some stand outside an ICU, looking through glass at someone they love. Others stand in different hallways, facing different kinds of loss. Different rooms. The same ache.

RELATED: Do not pass the plow: The danger of declaring a golden age without repentance

John J. Kim/Chicago Tribune/Tribune News Service via Getty Images

Bonhoeffer did not write from a place of safety or control. He wrote from confinement, where faith could no longer remain theoretical. Many recognize that narrowing, the sense that life has closed in and the ground beneath you has given way.

Faith is learned there, not discussed.

Exhaustion thins memory. Words scatter. Not everyone can recall creeds when sleep runs short and decisions carry real weight. But belief does not measure itself by recall. It reveals itself by posture.

When the floor gives way, you still need to know where to stand.

If He is Lord at all, then He is Lord of all.

Not only of sanctuaries, but of hospital corridors.

Not only of strength, but of weakness.

Not only of moments we would choose, but of moments we would never script.

That confession does not remove pain. It does not explain every loss. But it does tell us where to stand when the world presses in.

And when glass separates you from the one you love, whatever room that glass happens to be in, the question does not stay abstract.

It turns personal.

Christian, what do you believe?

​Opinion & analysis, Faith, Dietrich bonhoeffer, Christianity, Caregivers, Caregiving, Creed, Life, Illness, Hospitals, Intensive care unit, Belief