We Are All So Angry
A Meditation by Rev. Cameron Trimble
“Be angry but do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil.” —Ephesians 4:26–27
Something is simmering beneath the surface of our public life—an ache turned feverish, a grief turned furious. The killing of Charlie Kirk. The silence around Venezuelan civilians lost at sea. The military invasion of our cities. The cruel deportation of our neighbors. We feel it in the bite of headlines, the defensiveness of press briefings, the weariness in our own homes.
Ours is a nation boiling over—not just with outrage, but with unprocessed sorrow. Deep, aching sorrow.
We are angry because we are all losing things. Some of us are losing a way of life we assumed was permanent—comfort, stability, a sense of national pride. Others of us are losing basic rights, dignity, safety, even the breath in our lungs. Some are grieving the loss of familiar power. Others are grieving the centuries it took to get this far, only to be pushed back again.
But as my friend and teacher Meg Wheatley recently noted to me, we are not grieving the same things. And so we do not grieve together.
Instead, our grief, with nowhere to find expression, hardens into resentment. Our loss calcifies into blame. Our stories diverge, and we find ourselves shouting across chasms we no longer know how to cross. Even the most intimate relationships feel fragile now. Families fracture. Congregations divide. Friendships go quiet.
In the space where shared mourning could live, suspicion takes root. We begin to look at one another not as fellow travelers in sorrow, but as threats to our version of the world. We harden our hearts before they can be broken. We mask our pain with moral certainty, refusing to show the ache that lives just beneath our anger. We’d rather accuse than admit we feel abandoned. We’d rather blame than risk being seen because if we were to open our grief to one another, what might come undone? What stories might unravel? What illusions might fall?
What if, instead, we named our grief—not just our opinions, not just our righteousness, but the tender, terrible losses underneath? What if, in place of certainty, we offered stories? What if we met anger with curiosity—not to excuse cruelty, but to interrupt the isolation?
Anger itself is not the enemy. Injustice should make us angry. Exploitation should stir us. The prophets were angry. Jesus was angry. But their anger was never for spectacle. It was not a substitute for sorrow, or a weapon of division. It was the fierce love of those who refused to abandon the suffering of others.
Maybe our calling is not to extinguish our anger, but to transmute it—into compassion, into clarity, into the courage to stay with one another long enough to remember: you are grieving, too. I forgot. I’m sorry. Tell me what you’ve lost.
What do you think?
We are in this together,
Cameron
Reflection Questions
Where do you feel anger most intensely in your life right now—and what loss might be living underneath it?
What griefs have you carried alone that you wish could be held in community?
How might your anger be asking for deeper witnessing, not judgment?
A Prayer for the Day
When Grief Wears the Mask of Rage
Holy One, You who hear the cries behind our clenched fists, who see the tears we refuse to let fall— meet us in our fury. Not to scold it. Not to silence it. But to soften it. To show us the mourning waiting beneath. We are a people hurting in different ways, but hurting all the same. We do not know how to find each other across the trenches of our grief. Help us remember that we were never meant to mourn alone. That compassion does not require agreement. That healing can begin with a single shared breath. Make us brave enough to grieve together. And in doing so, may we find our way back to love. Amen.
Spiritual Practice
Trace the Grief Beneath the Flame
Find a quiet moment today. Sit with a journal, or simply with your breath. Call to mind a recent moment of anger—big or small. Let yourself remember it, not to relive the heat, but to listen for what lives underneath.
Ask yourself gently:
What did I lose? What did I fear? What did I long for?
Let yourself trace the flame of anger back to the tender ember of grief. Then, speak aloud a blessing over that grief. Name it not as weakness, but as a sacred part of being human.
Let it soften you. Let it reconnect you. Let it remind you: You are not alone.
Upcoming Events That Might Be of Interest…
October 18, 2025 - No Kings 2.0 Protest - Scholars of authoritarianism teach us that we need 3.5% of the population rising up to disrupt the rise of authoritarians. The last protest had over 6 million people in the streets in the US (more around the world) which was one of the largest protest in US history. We need to double that number. So here we go again. The movement builds. See you on the streets.
October 20-24, 2025 - FREE Online 5-Day Summit on “Made for These Times: Spiritual Leadership for a World in Crisis.” Political extremism. Climate collapse. Cultural fragmentation. People of faith across the globe are asking: How do we lead with clarity, courage, and compassion in a time like this? REGISTER HERE.
October 23, 30, November 13, 20 2025, 7pm ET - In Search of a New Story: Reimagining What Comes Next, A 4-Part Online Series with Dr. Matthew Fox, Cameron Trimble, Ilia Delio, Diana Butler Bass, Caroline Myss and Luther Smith. 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 NOW OPEN!
NEW!!!!!!!! July 19-24, 2026 - Join me and my amazing co-facilitator, Victoria, on retreat in the back-country of beautiful Wyoming. The Art of Wilding is a 5-Day Expedition for Women Leaders. We will spend the week reconnecting to nature, exploring our inner landscapes for change, and engage the wisdom of spiritual teachings. Click here to learn more.
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.
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I'm sending your meditation to everyone I know. Thank you for so eloquently putting into words what so many of us are feeling!
This is really quite magnificent. I am a retired hospice social worker, now a volunteer and am well acquainted with grief…a good reminder that we are grieving different things and can therefore not grieve together. Richard Rohr says that if our grief is not transformed it will be transmitted. That, I believe, is what we are witnessing all around us. I for one am doing all I know how to do in order to grow, protect and maintain the equanimity I have - no easy task under our present circumstances. Thank you so so much for this post - good timing! 🙏🏽♥️