“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven… For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” — Matthew 6:19-21
Lately, I’ve felt it in my own body. Maybe you have too.
It’s that tight coil of anxiety deep in the chest. The restless urge to check bank accounts, to log into retirement funds, to see the numbers that once made us feel safe sliding down like sand through our fingers.
I feel it — the fear of loss. Even as I feel it, I recognize my privilege. I have retirement accounts to check. I have resources that many do not. And yet, the fear is real anyway.
Modernity sold us a story: “Work hard, save well, and you will be safe.”
As this administration bulldozes the global economy, we see how fragile that promise always was. Retirement accounts, global markets, stock portfolios — they were never firm ground. They were scaffolding built on unstable soil, and now that scaffolding is trembling.
What exactly are we fearing?
Losing material comfort.
Unpredictable futures.
The dread of not being able to care for those we love.
The exposure that comes with vulnerability.
I want to say this gently, but clearly: It is human to fear these things. It is natural to grieve what feels like security lost. But it is also true that this collapse of modernity is an invitation — a painful, costly, but very real invitation.
The insulation that privilege gave us — while it protected us — also numbed us.
It dulled our sensitivity to the suffering of others. It shielded us from the hard truths of extractive economies. It kept us from feeling the full aliveness of our entanglement with community, creation, and the sacred. And so, painfully as it is, what feels like loss may also be an invitation.
This collapse is stripping away the illusion of safety — and inviting us into something more real.
It’s an invitation to wake up to the truth that our well-being is not individual. It’s collective.
It’s an invitation to grieve what we thought would save us, and to build instead what might truly sustain us.
It’s an invitation to return to the ancient wisdom that no market can offer: the sacred strength of shared life, of mutual care, of belonging.
Today, let’s breathe together. Let’s name our fears, without shame. Let’s grieve what is being lost, and open ourselves to what might yet be found — together.
We are in this together,
Cameron
Reflection Questions
How is your body carrying the fears of this moment? Can you name them gently, without judgment?
Where might this collapse be inviting you into deeper relationship—with others, with the earth, or with the sacred?
What forms of belonging and security are still available to you, even as systems unravel?
A Prayer for the Day
When the Ground Shakes Beneath Us
O God who steadies trembling hands and anxious hearts,
You know the fears we carry — fear for our loved ones, fear for our future, fear for ourselves.
You know how much we long for solid ground.
You know how deeply we’ve trusted in systems now crumbling beneath us.
Steady us, not with false comforts, but with the enduring truth:
That we belong to one another.
That we belong to this earth.
That we belong to You.
Give us courage to face what is unraveling,
Give us tenderness to hold our grief,
And give us hope — not in old promises, but in the new life we will plant together.
Amen.
Spiritual Practice
Grounding Ourselves in Belonging
Find a quiet moment today, and stand (or sit) where you can feel the earth beneath you. If possible, go outside and place your feet directly on the ground.
Close your eyes, and take a slow, deep breath. Feel the connection between your body and the earth — the real, living earth that holds you regardless of market shifts.
As you breathe, place your hand over your heart. Speak softly to yourself: “Even as systems fall, I remain connected. Even as numbers change, I remain held. I belong to this earth. I belong to community. I belong to love.”
Let your breath slow. Let your body remember what your mind forgets:
Your security is not in spreadsheets. It is in the web of life, in the quiet resilience of belonging.
Carry this embodied memory with you as you face the uncertainties of the day.
Upcoming Events That Might Be of Interest…
May 19-22, 2025 - Preaching and Worship FREE Online Summit: From war to genocide to a global climate crisis to a nation that perpetuates racism, misogyny, transphobia, and more from the highest office in the land, how do we prepare a sermon, a liturgy, a song, a prayer? Learn from some of our best preachers. REGISTER HERE.
June 4, 2025, 12pm ET - Jeff Chu has written a new book on a topic close to my heart: Soil! The title is “Good Soil: The Education of an Accidental Farmhand.” I am so pleased to be interviewing him. Together, we’ll explore what it means to cultivate “good soil” in our lives, our communities, and our spiritual practices. I hope you will register. Your registration includes a copy of his new book.
July 20-25, 2025 - The Art of Wilding: A 5-Day Expedition in Wyoming for Women Leaders. Click here to learn more. Only one spot left!
August 11, 2025, 2pm ET - Dr. Andrew Root and I will be hosting a 6 part series on Spirituality in the Secular Age based on his research. The dates are August 11, 18, September 8, 15, and October 6, 13. Mark your calendars! More on this soon.
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!
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.
Speaking as a senior, I do not feel that we need to make any apologies for the worries and concerns we have about "material" things. Many of us have worked long and hard for many decades to save enough to provide for our old age in a dignified manner without depending upon relatives or the welfare system. We have scrimped and saved, denied ourselves pleasurable spending and felt the responsibility to make a way to live out our old age in dignity. The depletion of retirement savings coupled with the soaring costs of elder care is of legitimate concern to any responsible person. I am 95 and my wife is 90. The future expenses of assisted living and the hiring of someone to drive us to doctor's appointments and roll our wheelchair through the grocery store are worries that we did not think we would have but we do. We appreciate, as you point out, that we are more fortunate than many who have much less than we do. Being thankful on the one hand and still having sleepless nights worrying about issues we thought we had conscientiously planned for are not exclusive sensations.
You voice my own heart and situation, Cameron+. We ARE all entangled together in holy love, immersed in Mystery as in the air we inhale and plants exhale. Grazie, gracias, grace to you and to us all.