It’s been an interesting week.
Earlier this week, I met with the leaders of a startup company focused on helping organizations build capacity through artificial intelligence. They walked me through what AI can already do and where they believe it’s headed over the next few years.
I’ve spent a lot of time studying artificial intelligence. I’m genuinely excited about its potential. I believe it will help solve problems we’ve struggled with for decades and create opportunities we’ve never imagined.
Even so, I left that meeting overwhelmed. Things are changing faster than I think most of us realize.
Driving home, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were living through one of those moments history eventually recognizes as a turning point. The rest of my week would only deepen that feeling.
I watched as my community grappled with another local shooting by police. One of the more vocal voices in the community explained why he wasn’t afraid. He said he was covered by witches and warlocks, and because of that, he was protected.
The next day, I walked into a convenience store and noticed an unusual tattoo on the cashier’s arm. Curious, I asked him what it meant. “It’s a demon mask,” he replied matter of factly. My first reaction wasn’t to mock him. It was to wonder what he was searching for.
A few days later, like millions of Americans, I watched as another election unfolded in Wisconsin. A democratic socialist emerged as the Democratic front-runner. Whether you celebrate that or oppose it isn’t really my point. This isn’t a column about politics. It’s about where people place their hope. Ten years ago, many people would have said that wasn’t politically possible.
The more I reflected on that week, the more those moments stayed with me. An AI startup showing me just how quickly technology is reshaping the future. A man convinced witches and warlocks were protecting him. A cashier wearing a demon mask. An election that reflected a growing desire for another way forward.
They seemed completely unrelated, but they all pointed me toward the same question: What are we trusting to hold us together when everything else changes?
As I reflected on that question, I realized each moment represented a different place where people were looking for hope. The details may be different. The search is remarkably similar.
For years we’ve been told that as society becomes more educated, more connected, and more technologically advanced, people would become less spiritual. I’m not sure that’s what happened. I think people rarely stop believing. They simply change what they believe in.
History reminds us that every generation eventually discovers the limits of whatever it places at the center of its hope.
Empires rise and fall. Markets expand and contract. Political movements inspire millions before disappointing them. Technology solves problems our grandparents couldn’t imagine while creating new ones they never had to face.
Progress is real. But it has never answered the deepest questions of the human heart.
Who am I? Why am I here? What gives my life meaning? What can I hold onto when everything else feels uncertain?
Those questions have survived every civilization, every invention, and every generation because they are woven into who we are.
Technology will continue to reshape the world around us. Politics will continue to evolve. New ideas will rise. Old assumptions will fade. I have no doubt the headlines will look different 10 years from now than they do today.
The older I get, the less interested I am in chasing every new answer. My faith has given me an anchor that has held through changing seasons, unanswered questions, and moments when the world around me felt uncertain.
That doesn’t mean I understand everything. I certainly don’t. But I have found something steady in a world that rarely stands still.
Which brings me back to the question I’ve been wrestling with all week. What is anchoring you?
