“Let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up.” — Galatians 6:9

There have always been quiet builders.
They are the ones who repair the breaches, plant the seeds, and strengthen the foundations—not for recognition, but because the work matters. In the ruins of Jerusalem, Nehemiah’s workers rebuilt the walls one stone at a time, knowing the city’s safety depended on their persistence. In the aftermath of war, the architects of the Marshall Plan labored behind the scenes, setting the table for peace in Europe. During the Civil Rights Movement, there were the organizers who typed flyers late into the night, fed volunteers, and opened their homes to weary travelers. Their names are not in the history books, but their fingerprints are everywhere.
Today, in this season of political instability and deep division, quiet builders are still at work. They are the ones who teach history when others are erasing it, who tend to the wounds of neighbors others would rather forget, who document unwarranted ICE arrests when others would look away, who keep showing up at the city council meeting even when no one thanks them. They resist cynicism by refusing to let the noise of the moment drown out the deeper call of conscience.
Quiet builders understand something essential: the future is always under construction. They know that democracy, like a home, must be maintained or it will fall into disrepair. They know that kindness, like a garden, needs daily tending or it will wither. They know that the work of justice is never complete in a single lifetime, and so they pick up their tools—insight, compassion, truth—and keep going.
Howard Thurman once wrote, “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” Quiet builders embody this. Their work is not fueled by prestige or fear, but by a deep aliveness that knows the joy of repairing what has been broken and the sacredness of building what does not yet exist.
We are the inheritors of their work. And today, we are the stewards of the work yet to be done. The same Spirit that stirred in the hearts of those who built before us now stirs in ours, inviting us to labor for a world that is more just, more generous, and more whole. We may not finish the work in our lifetime, but if we keep showing up—stone by stone, act by act—those who come after us will find the path made straighter, the foundations stronger, and the vision clearer.
Keep the faith, brave ones.
We are in this together,
Cameron
Reflection Questions
Who are the quiet builders whose work you now stand upon?
What part of the “unfinished construction” of a just and generous world calls most deeply to you?
How can you keep your spirit steady for the long work ahead?
A Prayer for the Day
A Prayer for Steady Hearts
O God, When the foundations shake and the halls of power turn against the common good, hold us steady. Keep our hands from despair and our hearts from hardening. Let us remember the long line of those who built and rebuilt when it seemed the world would come apart. Give us courage to speak when silence is easier. Give us patience to tend the small places others overlook. Let our work—seen or unseen— become part of the great mending You are already weaving. And when we grow weary, remind us of the ones who walk beside us in this age and every age— ancestors, prophets, neighbors, strangers— all building the world that love requires. Amen.
Spiritual Practice
Choose one place in your daily landscape that feels neglected, frayed, or broken. It could be a relationship that has gone quiet, a stretch of sidewalk where trash collects, a community group that has lost momentum, or even a personal habit you’ve let slide. This week, become a quiet builder there.
Approach it with care, as if you are placing a single stone in a wall that will outlast you. Let your action be small enough to finish in one sitting but meaningful enough to ripple outward—a handwritten note of reconciliation, a patch of cleared litter, an offer of help to a weary neighbor, a seed planted where nothing grows.
When you’re done, pause. Picture generations before you placing their own “stones” beside yours, and generations after you continuing the work.
Remember: you are not alone in the building.
Upcoming Events That Might Be of Interest…
September 4, 5:30pm 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.
Cameron, this was one of the most beautiful, deepest, spacious, most profound pieces of writing I have ever read. I read your work every day. This morning, on a webinar with Lynne Twist, she read from it. It was so inspirational. And she spoke of the Shambala warriors who, she said, "come from an ancient Tibetan prophecy, which says in times of great stress and breakdown, who emerges are the Shamba warriors, people who are willing to live with compassion, kindness and insight -- to bring wisdom into the midst of the heart of pain, and even have compassion for those who are perpetrating the pain, who don't know what they are doing, or the consequences of their action. And they have lost their connection to the heart of their soul."
The Shambala Warriors...the Quiet Builders.
I have re-sent your beautiful meditation to my own spiritual retreat community, warriors all, quiet builders all, and I thank you for your writing, again and again. Your wisdom creates a "splendid torch" in each of my days.
Thank you Cameron, for reminding me that this is our essential work in the world right now, to build the future we desire and to visualize it as we bring our own tools and gifts to the construction - one day at a time! Blessings to you.