“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.” —Ephesians 6:12
I find myself unable to look away from what’s happening in Gaza—not just the suffering, but the pattern beneath it. Philosopher Bayo Akomolafe says that Gaza is not just a humanitarian crisis or a failure of political will.1 It is part of a pattern—a cycle of violence and separation that keeps repeating itself, changing form but never releasing its grip on us.
We see this pattern everywhere we look. In Gaza, yes, but also in the growing camps at our own borders. We see it in wars that promise liberation but only leave more scars. We see it in systems that turn yesterday’s victims into today’s oppressors. It’s as if history itself is caught in a trance, circling back on itself while we keep trying to “fix” the symptoms.
Of course, our hearts want to act. When a mother’s only comfort to her starving child is to hold him close and rock him, how could we not want to rush in, send aid, demand a ceasefire, call for justice? Compassion calls us to respond. But Akomolafe warns us that sometimes our “good deeds” still reinforce the same pattern we are trying to undo. We try to save the day, but the logic of domination—this belief that some lives are expendable while others must be protected—continues.
This is not just a humanitarian crisis. It is a crisis of imagination. A crisis of spirit.
The patterns of war, greed, and oppression cannot be ended by willpower alone. They are not simply “out there,” in other nations or political leaders. They live in us. They live in the ways we divide the world into “us” and “them,” the ways we cling to being right instead of being in relationship, the ways we seek victory rather than transformation.
The question is not only, What can we do? It is also, Who must we become so that this pattern no longer makes sense?
Good religion has always called us to something deeper than winning. Jesus never promised us victory in the way empire defines it. He promised us presence. He promised us love that breaks down every wall of separation. He promised us a way of being that is not built on fear or force, but on the radical recognition that every life is connected, every life is sacred.
If we want the pattern to end, we must live differently now. We can’t demand ceasefires, but embrace the logic of war in our own hearts. We can’t send aid, but fail to dismantle the hierarchies that decide who is worthy of aid. We can’t mourn the victims, but support dehumanizing systems that make victims at all.
The challenge is daunting. It feels bigger than us. Perhaps the invitation is not to seek victory at all, but to embody a different logic—a logic of interconnection, humility, and reverence. Such logic remembers that love is not a scarce resource, but the only force that can disrupt the cycle.
We are in this together,
Cameron
Reflection Questions
Where in your own life do you notice the logic of separation—of “us versus them”—playing out?
What does it mean to seek transformation instead of “winning” in your daily life?
How might we act from a place of deep connection, rather than fear or outrage?
A Prayer for the Day
A Cry Beyond Ceasefire
God of mercy and justice, We cry out for Gaza, for every place where children weep in hunger and fear. We cry out for the mothers who cannot feed them, for the fathers who cannot protect them, for every life caught in the machinery of war. But we also cry out for ourselves— for the hardness that lets us turn away, for the illusions that keep us trapped in the same cycles. Teach us a deeper way. Help us see through the logic of winning and losing, to the truth that we belong to one another. Make us brave enough to face the grief beneath the violence. Make us tender enough to hold the pain of the world without closing our hearts. And make us fierce enough to live love, even when love is costly. Amen.
Spiritual Practice
The Pattern and the Pause
Notice where you are drawn to quick fixes—where you want to “solve” a problem before you have felt it. Take time to pause, to sit with the discomfort, and to name the deeper pattern you see. Ask:
What story is alive here?
How can I respond in a way that creates connection, not just control?
If you are able, light a candle for Gaza and all places of suffering. As the flame burns, whisper a prayer for the breaking of old patterns and the birth of new ways of being.
Upcoming Events That Might Be of Interest…
September 4, 4:30pm ET - I will be collaborating with the Anderson Forum for Progressive Theology to host a conversation with Thomas Jay Oord on Open and Relational theology. It’s a FREE event. Register here.
October 15-18, 2025 - Converging 2025: Sing Truth Conference (all musicians invited!) at Northwest Christian Church in Columbus, OH. Register here!
October 23, 30, November 6, 13, 2025, 7pm ET - In Search of a New Story: Reimagining What Comes Next, A 4-Part Online Series with Matthew Fox, Cameron Trimble, and Special Guests. We are living through the unraveling of many old stories—about who we are, why we’re here, and how we are meant to live together on this Earth. As these inherited narratives collapse under the weight of climate crisis, social fragmentation, and spiritual disconnection, the question becomes clear: What story will guide us now? REGISTRATION OPENING SOON!
I drafted a Strategic Framework for Congregations as we move into the coming years of increased authoritarianism around the world. If interested, you can download it here.
If you are a leader or member of a congregation looking for consulting support in visioning, planning, hiring or staffing, please consider Convergence.
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Canadian singer songwriter poet prophet Leonard Cohen's song THE FUTURE predicts and describes our current dystopian chaos.... he along with other depth 'seers' concludes that 'Love is the only engine of survival."
Thank you.