06/02/2026
“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.” — Matthew 6:19-20
The current economy can be confusing because two things seem true at once. The stock market keeps going up, but people feel less confident than ever. Economists mention strong job numbers, yet many families feel like they are falling behind. Grocery bills are high, insurance costs keep rising, young people struggle to afford homes, and many older adults worry about retirement. This isn’t a mistake. The system was built this way.
The stock market and the real economy have become separate worlds. The market rewards things like speculation and concentrating wealth, while the real economy is where people buy food, raise kids, and plan for the future. These two no longer move together. When a company lays off workers to make shareholders happy, the stock price rises, but families have to cut back. Both things are real, they just affect different people.
So if you feel anxious even when you hear ‘good news,’ you are not confused. You are noticing something real. The economy has changed, and the old promises about security do not hold up anymore. The statistics show one picture, but people’s real lives tell another.
An old story from the Desert Fathers comes to mind…
A visitor came to Abba Agathon, one of the early Christian monks, and said, “I hear you are proud.”
“That is true,” Agathon replied.
“I hear you are vain.”
“That is true.”
The visitor kept listing faults, and Agathon calmly agreed with each one.
Finally the visitor said, “I hear you are a heretic.”
But this time, Agathon disagreed.
“No,” he said. “That is not true.”
The visitor was confused. “Why did you accept all the other accusations but reject that one?”
Agathon answered, “The others separate me from myself. Heresy separates me from God.”
I think many people today might find that answer hard to understand. Our culture often treats financial stability as the most important kind of security. We spend years building careers, saving money, investing, and planning for retirement. Much of our lives are shaped by the hope that careful planning will keep us safe from uncertainty.
There’s nothing wrong with planning ahead. It’s wise to save money, pay down debt, and act responsibly. Spiritual traditions have never encouraged being reckless. But they do raise a question that many of us would rather not face: What happens when the things we depend on begin to wobble?
The stock market can go up, but our anxiety can rise too. Retirement accounts can grow, and someone might still feel more afraid. Even a bigger paycheck can come with a stronger sense of insecurity. These are common but curious reactions. If money really brings security, why do so many people who have more than past generations still feel afraid?
Jesus spoke to this tension. When he tells people not to store up treasures on earth, he isn’t saying wealth is bad. He’s warning us not to get confused. He wants us to see that resources aren’t the same as real security.
Money can buy a home, but it cannot create sanctuary.
Money can purchase comfort, but it cannot produce peace.
Money can fund treatment, but it cannot prevent mortality.
Money can increase options, but it cannot tell us who we are.
Money can reduce certain risks, but it cannot remove uncertainty from human life.
Modern society tells us that uncertainty is something we should fix. If we just work hard, save, invest wisely, and make good choices, we’ll finally be safe. But life doesn’t work that way. Markets go up and down. Governments change. Industries vanish. Storms happen. We get older. Relationships end. History can disrupt our plans.
As I get older, I think spiritual maturity isn’t about getting rid of uncertainty, but about learning how to live well with it.
The Buddhist teacher Pema Chödrön once wrote that we spend much of our lives trying to find “ground beneath our feet,” only to discover that uncertainty was never the problem. Our resistance to uncertainty was the problem.
There's an old Yorùbá saying: "The earth is not a inheritance from our ancestors, but a loan from our children." What if our economic anxiety is partly the weight of knowing we've spent principal we were meant to hold in trust? Now we hold guilt and grief. And grief, when metabolized in community, becomes compost for new ways of living.
The mystics understood this. The prophets understood this. Jesus certainly understood it. They didn’t find a way to avoid uncertainty. Instead, they found something deeper to rely on. They grounded themselves in community, prayer, generosity, purpose, service, and love. They invested in things that could last through market crashes, political turmoil, sickness, aging, and loss.
Maybe that’s why today’s economic anxiety feels so revealing on a spiritual level. It shows us where we’ve put our trust.
Some of what we're feeling is about money. Some of it is grief: grief for promises that didn't hold, for parents who followed the rules and still struggled, for children facing climates and economies we helped break. Some is just exhaustion. Some comes from realizing that many promises about security were never completely true.
This isn’t an invitation to stop saving money or planning for the future. It’s an invitation to remember that the deepest kinds of security have never been things money could buy: Love. Friendship. Meaning. Integrity. Faith. The ability to stay present even when life is uncertain.
These are treasures of a different kind.
~ Rev. Cameron Trimble
A Meditation by Rev. Cameron Trimble
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