The Currency of Trust: Our Hidden Asset
Every economy runs on a currency. Remove it and transactions slow, relationships fracture and progress stalls. In the Kingdom of God, trust functions in much the same way.
Trust is the medium through which the Gospel is heard, received and embodied. When trust is abundant, the good news travels quickly. When trust is scarce, even the most faithful proclamation struggles to gain a hearing.
At the turn of this century, trust was still relatively plentiful. Western societies carried a quiet confidence in institutions, leaders and systems. In the United States, public trust in the federal government sat at around 55 percent in the early 2000s. Australia reflected a similar posture, with trust in national government hovering near 53 percent in the mid‑2000s. These were not perfect societies, but they were marked by a baseline assumption that authority could be relied upon and expertise was broadly credible.
That confidence extended well beyond politics. The cultural mood was buoyant. The Cold War had ended decisively in favour of liberal democracy and free‑market capitalism. Globalisation promised shared prosperity. In 1999, Time Magazine could, without irony, describe Alan Greenspan, Bob Rubin and Larry Summers—the central figures behind US economic policy at the time—as “the committee to save the world.” Economic leadership was trusted. Institutions were assumed to be competent. Progress felt inevitable.
Technology carried similar hope. The early internet appeared to be an unqualified good. Nicolas Negroponte, often described as the father of the digital age, spoke of digital technology as “harmonising and empowering,” a natural force drawing people into greater world harmony. Silicon Valley was not yet viewed with suspicion but with gratitude. In 1997, Wired magazine confidently proclaimed, “We’re facing 25 years of prosperity, freedom, and a better environment for the whole world.” Optimism was not naïve; it was ambient.
Fast forward to the second quarter of this century and the landscape has shifted dramatically. Trust has been steadily spent down, often without anyone noticing the cost until the account was nearly empty. In the United States, trust in the federal government has fallen to around 16 percent by 2025. Australia has fared better, but still reflects a significant decline, with trust in national government sitting near 33 percent in 2024. These are not marginal changes. They represent a profound re‑orientation in how people relate to authority, expertise and institutions.
This erosion of trust has many causes: political polarisation, economic shocks, institutional failures, cultural fragmentation and the unintended consequences of digital life. Social media has amplified outrage, rewarded suspicion and trained us to assume bad faith. Leaders have over‑promised and under‑delivered. Institutions have sometimes protected themselves rather than the people they serve. The result is a culture that listens with crossed arms and raised eyebrows.
For followers of Jesus, this context matters deeply. We are not sharing our faith into a neutral environment. We are speaking to neighbours, friends and colleagues who have learned, often painfully, to be cautious. Appeals to authority carry less weight. Claims of expertise are scrutinised. The church is not exempt. In many communities, trust in religious institutions has declined alongside trust in political ones.
Yet this is not merely a challenge; it is a calling. The Gospel has always advanced most powerfully through credible communities, not just compelling arguments. Jesus did not entrust the Kingdom to an institution, but to a people whose life together would make the reign of God visible and believable. Trust is not built through branding or platforms, but through presence, consistency and costly love.
In a low‑trust age, trust becomes a precious currency. It is earned slowly and spent carefully. It grows where followers of Jesus are transparent rather than defensive, where power is exercised for the sake of others, and where repentance is practiced publicly, not just preached privately. It flourishes in communities that tell the truth, keep their word and stay when things are hard.
The early church grew in a world no less suspicious than ours. What set them apart was not cultural dominance, but relational credibility. “They enjoyed the favour of all the people” (Acts 2:47), not because they were impressive, but because they were recognisably good. In our moment, Gospel advance will depend less on how loudly we speak and more on how faithfully we live.
Trust may be in short supply, but that only increases its value. As followers of Jesus, we are invited to steward trust well, build it patiently and guard it fiercely. In doing so, we create space for the Gospel to be heard again as good news, not just true news.
