It has been a year since wildfires devastated parts of Los Angeles, California. Recently, I have read and listened to follow-up reports about these deadly and destructive fires.
From the NPR show Fresh Air, I listened to host Tonya Moseley’s interview with journalist, Jacob Soboroff, about his new book “Firestorm: The Great Los Angeles Fires And America’s New Age Of Disaster.” Soboroff interviewed one firefighter who said, “there’s no fire season, it’s fire year.”
In truth, I feel that way about America at this time. I sense America is in a firestorm. From “sea to shining sea” and beyond our borders we are a raging hot spot.
We are burning out of control. There is no immunity. Every state and country has kindling ready to ignite.
(Photo Bill Pike)
ICE shootings in Minnesota and Oregon.
Another mass shooting in Clay County, Mississippi with six people dead. The victims range in age from 7 to 67.
A arson fire in Mississippi that burned through a historic synagogue destroying its library. In 1967, the same synagogue endured a bombing by the Ku Klux Klan.
Beyond our borders, America’s foreign policy has intense flames in Venezuela, the Ukraine-Russia war, the unrest in Iran, and the always volatile Middle East.
And despite these hot spots, the hottest, most intense fire burns in our nation’s capital.
The mentality of our leadership is fueled by greed, disrespect, incivility, selfishness, abusive power, vindictiveness, and a complete disregard for the truth.
As badly as we might want 2026 to be a better year, it is already “a fire year.”
In 1962, James Baldwin wrote in an essay for the New York Times: “Not everything that is faced can be changed; but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”
America we are overdue to face ourselves.
Author’s note: This piece was submitted to the Richmond Times-Dispatch as a letter to the editor on January 13, 2026. To the best of my knowledge, it was rejected.
By now you know, I don’t have a theological brain.
During Advent, Christmas, this holy season, I think about Luke Chapter 2 verses 8-10:
“And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people.”
Ok, I’m a shepherd.
It’s dark, cold. I’m in the middle of nowhere.
I pray that a coyote, fox, or wolf will not disrupt the stillness and try to steal one of my flock.
In my years of being a shepherd, I’ve been lucky. I’ve always been able to scare off those prowlers.
But tonight, a light appeared on the horizon.
That light kept moving toward us.
The light traveled quickly across the sky becoming brighter and brighter, until finally the light was right on top of us.
I cowered. I tried to make myself smaller, but the light was too bright. Fear shivered down my weakening spine.
And then the fear shook me more. The light spoke.
The light said, “do not be afraid.”
“Do not be afraid”— are you kidding me? How ridiculous.
Listen you wing flapping angel, I’m tempted to take my sling shot and hurl a stone at you.
If I’m lucky enough to make it up to heaven some day, I’m liable to track you down.
And when you least expect it, I’m going to get even, and scare the feathers off your wings.
Let’s be honest here.
Even though the angel did convey the good news of Jesus’ birth, the delivery carried a fearful tone.
Let’s continue the honesty, Joseph and Mary, the bewildered parents of Jesus, experienced fear too.
Start with this puzzling intrusion of their engagement by God.
When it is time for Mary to give birth, fear hovered around the young couple. With this census taking place, rooms were difficult to secure. So a stable, with all the amenities—a manager, hay, gentle animals, and swaddling cloths came together quickly from a generous innkeeper.
Today, fear is rarely absent in our lives.
From the beginning of time, I suspect has been one of our most reliable pests.
Truthfully, I think fear is always rambling in the background of Advent with questions like this:
What happens if I can’t find the perfect gift?
What will I do if I overcook this batch of cookies?
When will I loose patience in the beauty of this season and snap at a loved one?
Why should I fear offering assistance to the apparent homeless person in the median of a busy intersection?
What drives me in my work to try and make every person happy? Why do I fear saying no, I can’t make that happen?
Earlier in December, at Trinity, the church where I work, I had an especially trying stretch of busy days.
On a Friday afternoon, the internal workings of a toilet sent a profanity alert to heaven.
No matter what I tried a valve and a flapper did not want to align properly. The good Lord must have tired of my poor choice of words.
He nudged me one more time. My eyes found my two installation errors. I exclaimed, “God still lives.”
While riding my exercise bike on the morning of Tuesday, December 22, I listened to an interview on the NPR show, Fresh Air. Host Terry Gross, interviewed Vanity Fair writer, Chris Whipple.
Mr. Whipple had conducted eleven interviews with Susie Wiles to write an article for the magazine. Miss Wiles is the White House Chief of Staff for President Trump.
During the course of the interview with Terry Gross, Mr. Whipple reported that Miss Wiles believes in what she calls “disruptors.”
I’m certain that Miss Wiles and I would clash over the “disruptors” that surround her.
But I wonder if we could agree that Jesus was a “disruptor?”
For lots of different reasons, I have an affection for the movie, Steel Magnolias.
I’m particularly drawn to the character, Ouiser, portrayed by the actor, Shirley MacLaine.
In a scene where Ouiser is hustling to a pedicure appointment, she is gently confronted by Shelby, the daughter of a friend.
Shelby has met a former flame of Ouiser’s. Shelby presses Ouiser to see if she might have any interest in seeing this gentleman again.
Ouiser, with no hesitation, asks Shelby, “does this story have a point?”
Every Christmas, I ask myself the same confounding internal question about the birth of Jesus—“does this story have a point?”
And despite whatever doubts I might wrestle, I think the birth of Jesus does have a point.
Jesus is a disruptor.
He disrupts darkness, John 1 verse 5: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”
Maybe where you live, tacky Christmas lights are popular. In our neighborhood, there are a couple of homes that have made the tacky light tour.
During the holiday season tour buses, vans, and special limousines drive by these homes. At each home, the drivers of the vehicles pause so their passengers can gawk and stare at the tacky displays.
I’m happy for the people who enjoy the tacky light tours.
But during Christmas, I search out less obvious seasonal lights.
Two streets over from our home, I’m drawn to a singular light of a pretty star dangling beneath the limbs of pine trees in a backyard.
My favorite star (Photo Bill Pike)
On some late winter afternoons, from the intersection of Stuart Hall and Sweetbriar Roads, I look west into the spectacular colors of a sunset.
One of our stunning sunsets (Photo Bill Pike)
In my daily ramblings around Trinity, I come across the intrusion of sunlight in our sanctuary.
I love how the golden light of a rising sun cast upon a window pane.
Early morning golden sunrise (Photo Bill Pike)
Over in the Preschool, I see the star of light atop a Christmas tree in artwork created by children who are eager for Christmas to arrive.
Pretty artwork from Preschool students (Photo Bill Pike)
On December 17, the Trinity staff took a lunch break at the studio of our music director, Ben Miller. In close proximity to the VCU campus, this section of Cary Street has seen a rebirth.
As we were leaving, I read these words artfully displayed on a fence: “find your light and grow towards it.”
(Photo Bill Pike)
That disruptor, the Bethlehem Bundle, needs us to find his light.
He needs us to disrupt the lurking darkness found in every corner of this old world.
He needs us to disrupt with hope and love.
When we become disruptors with hope and love, our story will have a point.
Steeple at St. James’s Episcopal Church Richmond, VA (Photo Bill Pike)
Read Luke 8: 43-48
For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.
Jeremiah 29:11
On a pretty September afternoon, my wife and I attended the funeral for a neighbor. The sanctuary was at capacity. This celebration of her precious life was perfect. There was only one problem—I don’t think this daughter, sister, wife, mother, friend, and nurse should have died.
Our neighbor beat cancer once. I’m sorry God, but I think if a person beats cancer once, this person should have immunity from a second battle with this disrespectful disease. We need a new commandment: Thou shalt not have cancer a second time.
From Luke 8, I struggle with the instant healing of the woman who barely touched Jesus’ clothing. God, don’t you think a person battling cancer for the second time should have such a redemption? Surely, our neighbor believed just like the woman in Luke believed.
I always found comfort in Jeremiah 29:11. Yet, in real life moments like the passing of our neighbor, it is difficult to find that reassurance. She needed those hopeful plans for good welfare and no harm.
I apologize for whining God. However, I don’t think I’m a solo whiner when it comes to a recurrence of cancer. Despite my imperfections, I know you love me, but we need that new commandment.
Prayer: Father of us all give us the strength to endure when cancer pushes against us. Amen
Prayer Focus: Anyone battling cancer.
Thought For The Day: Bless those who are working to defeat cancer.
Note from author: On October 7, 2025 this devotional was submitted to the Upper Room for publication consideration. December 4, 2025, the standard email of rejection arrived. While disappointed, I understand, and I attempt to learn from every rejection. Be safe, Bill Pike
Cover from the Upper Room (Photo taken by Bill Pike)
Read Mark 10:46-52
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Proverbs 3:5-6 (NRSVUE)
I enjoy taking early morning runs, and before I leave the house, I check the weather conditions from the nearby airport.
One morning, the visibility at the airport was down to one mile. A thick layer of gray clouds hung above the treetops.
As I ran, I heard a plane overhead, but because of the cloud cover I couldn’t see it; I knew that the pilots couldn’t see the ground either.
Pilots must always rely on their training and sophisticated instruments to safely fly and land the plane, but this is especially true when visibility is reduced.
Sometimes I struggle to see where I need to go in life. l lose focus, and finding my way is difficult.
In those moments, I work to regain my bearings with these words from Proverbs 3:5-6— “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.”
Trusting in God is not always easy.
Yet, that is exactly what Bartimaeus did when he asked Jesus to restore his sight; he trusted God in his heart.
On those days when the way is unclear, my heart needs to be more trusting, just like Bartimaeus.
Prayer: Faithful God, help our hearts to trust you when our vision is clouded. Guide us through your word. Amen
Thought For The Day: When the way seems unclear, I will trust God to lead me.
Bill Pike (Virginia, USA)
Note from the author: Friends I’m honored to have this piece published in the November-December edition of the Upper Room today, Tuesday, November 18, 2025. In case you are interested, I’ve also included the original piece that was submitted to the Upper Room. Thanks for your reading time, be safe, Bill Pike
Flying With God
Read Mark 10:46-52
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths. Proverbs 3:5-6 (NRSV)
I still enjoy taking an early morning run through our neighborhood.
I keep a running journal. Before I leave the house, I jot down the current weather conditions from the local airport.
Most mornings, the visibility is listed at ten miles. At the dawning of this day, the visibility at the airport was down to one mile.
In our neighborhood, a layer of thick, gray clouds hung above the treetops. As I started my run, I could hear the whine of jet engines in the cloud cover, but I couldn’t see the plane.
When visibility is reduced, pilots must rely upon their training and the use of sophisticated instruments to safely bring the plane through the clouds for a landing.
Sometimes in life, I struggle to see where I need to be landing. My vision becomes blurry. I lose focus. Finding my way is difficult.
In those moments, I work to restore my sight with these words from Proverbs 3:5-6: Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not rely on your own insight. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.
Trusting in God or Jesus when my vision is cloudy is not easy to do.
Yet, that is exactly what Bartimaeus did when he asked Jesus to restore his sight—his heart trusted.
On those days when my vision is reduced, my heart needs to be more trusting like Bartimaeus.
Prayer: Father of us all, help our hearts to trust you when our vision is reduced. Amen
Thought For The Day: When the clouds of life reduce our vision, trusting in the Lord can lead us to his light.
“I’m not crazy M’Lynn. I’ve just been in a very bad mood for forty years.”
Those words were spoken by Ouiser Boudreaux, the character portrayed by actress, Shirley MacLaine, in the movie Steel Magnolias.
In truth, Ouiser Boudreaux, reminds me of my mother’s sister, Mildred.
I loved Mildred because like Ouiser, Mildred was always honest. She never held back.
Robert Harling wrote the play, Steel Magnolias, and the screenplay that was made into a movie. The play was based upon Harling’s experience of his sister’s death.
I sense it would be fairly easy to take Ouiser’s observation about herself and apply it to our lives. To the therapist: “I’m not crazy, Dr. Watson, I’ve just been living with my wife for the last fifty one years.”
To the superintendent of schools: “No m’am, I’m not crazy, I’ve just been trying to teach middle school students for the last thirty one years.”
To your doctor: “No sir, I’m not crazy, I know operating the television’s remote control for six hours a day isn’t a cardiovascular activity.”
I wonder if people ever felt that Jesus was crazy?
Think about Matthew Chapter 8 verses 23-27: “And when he got into the boat, his disciples followed him. A gale arose on the lake, so great that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him up, saying, ‘Lord, save us! We are perishing!’ And he said to them, ‘Why are you afraid, you of little faith?’ Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the sea; and there was a dead calm. They were amazed, saying, ‘What sort of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?’”
The collective question of the disciples says it all—“What sort of man is this, that even the winds and the sea obey him?”
Maybe what they were really thinking was—“Is this man crazy?”
But in truth, the toughest question in this passage comes from Jesus: “Why are you afraid, you of little faith?” From the disciples perspective, their fear is grounded in the intensity of the storm that is battering their boat.
Think about it— no life preservers, no flares to fire off, no cell phone, no Coast Guard helicopter in route.
Nope all they have is this crazy guy Jesus.
I’ll be truthful with you, my faith and fear are grounded in this—I still struggle to always understand this crazy guy Jesus.
I will go to my grave wondering why prayers for one friend battling cancer are answered while prayers for another friend are not.
How can a woman with a longstanding health problem in Luke Chapter 8 barely touch Jesus’ clothing and her medical condition is immediately cured?
Talk about crazy, that story drives me nuts.
All this suffering in the world, even in this beautiful facility at Cedarfield, and that touch from Jesus seems so far away.
And yet, I don’t think Jesus is far away.
No, I think the problem is that I have continued to distance myself from him.
And that distance comes from my inability to see and understand Jesus’ craziness.
I think it would be very fair for God and Jesus to say: “We’re not crazy Bill. But because of all the challenges we see on earth everyday, we’ve just been in a very bad mood for a zillion years.”
You, me, we us know that God and Jesus have lots of reasons to be in a very bad mood when they look down upon us.
No doubt, the world can put us in a very bad mood.
But, if we let that very bad mood consume us, we will lose our hope.
A few years ago I received an email from Tommy Yow. A long, long time ago, Tommy was the Associate Pastor and Youth Director at Davis Street United Methodist Church in Burlington, North Carolina.
Tommy who now is retired in Alabama read an op-ed piece I wrote about the closing of Davis Street. The piece appeared in three North Carolina newspapers. Through one of those newspapers Tommy tracked me down.
I loved reconnecting with him.
Every week Tommy forwards to me thoughtful emails from Richard Rohr, a Franciscan friar and ecumenical teacher, the retired Reverend Dr. Terry E. Walton from the North Georgia Conference, and Linda Henley at Lake Junaluska. I try to skim those writings. Occasionally, something in those posts will stick with me.
I have no idea who Jo Cato is but this quote from her was used in one of those postings: “Be brave. The unfamiliar will shape you more than the familiar ever could.”
It is tough to be brave when life becomes unfamiliar.
Yet, I think Jo Cato is correct. We have an opportunity to learn from these unfamiliar times.
I guess the real question is— are we willing to learn from these unfamiliar times?
The disciples were in unfamiliar territory with the storm pounding their boat. Fear gripped them.
For lots of different reasons, fear grips me today too.
I recently listened to an interview with Jane Fonda on the National Public Radio show Fresh Air.
Yes, I know people can still have strong feelings about Jane Fonda.
But this exchange about “fear” in the interview caught my attention.
JANE FONDA: And I wrote a book, and I lost my fear.
HOST TONYA MOSLEY: You wrote a book about aging.
JANE FONDA: Yeah. Yeah. The thing to do when you’re scared, at least for me, is I make what I’m afraid of my best friend. I learn all about it. I wrap my arms around it and squash it to death (laughter).
HOST TONYA MOSLEY: Why do you do that?
JANE FONDA: Because then I’m not afraid anymore.
There are things in life that can make us fearful, things in life that can make us crazy, and things in life that can put us in bad moods.
And in all that fear, craziness, and bad moods, and despite the impact these things have on us, God and Jesus are still hanging around.
They are ready to help us face our fears, craziness, and bad moods.
They want to help us answer Jesus’ questions: “why are you afraid, where is your faith?”
People who have known me for a long, long, long time know that I was a marginal student. I drove my parents crazy with my poor performance in school.
Yet, somehow, my parents stuck with me. They didn’t abandon me. Their deep faith anchored them in hope that some day their knucklehead of a son might land on his feet.
Though Jesus was aggravated with his disciples as the storm thrashed their boat, he did not abandon them.
At this very moment, if we have any chance of enduring this unfamiliar world, its fears, its craziness, and its bad moods, we can’t abandon the calmer of the sea.
And that requires you, me, we, us to be as honest with our hearts as Ouiser Boudreaux.
While it might be a stretch, our hearts want to say—we’re not crazy Jesus, but you know the truth.
Our hearts have been very bad at ignoring you when the unfamiliar storms of life hit us.
Don’t give up on us yet.
Toss us your life preserver of hope.
Maybe, we’ll get it right this time.
Author’s note: On the afternoon of Tuesday, September 16, 2025, I had the privilege of presenting a devotional at Cedarfield. Cedarfield is an United Methodist retirement community in Henrico County, Virginia. For eleven years, our church, Trinity United Methodist, has been presenting worship gatherings for Trinity members and Cedarfield residents. These gatherings take place four times a year.
On the afternoon of Thursday, August 21, just a few minutes shy of 3 p.m., a man knocked on the door to the Stuart Hall Road entrance to our Sanctuary.
Our head building caretaker responded to the knock.
When he opened the door, this stranger said he wanted a pastor to pray for him.
Our building caretaker walked the stranger toward the church office.
Once there, our assistant pastor met with the stranger.
The request for prayer quickly shifted to a financial need to cover the cost of car insurance.
When our assistant pastor asked some basic questions about the car insurance, the stranger became belligerent and indignant. Displeased, he responded by cursing our assistant.
With this abusive language, the stranger was asked to leave the building. He was escorted out by our assistant and another staff member.
This pretense of prayer reminded me of an episode of The Andy Griffith Show titled “A Black Day For Mayberry.” The story is about a shipment of gold that is scheduled to go through Mayberry on its way to Fort Knox.
Of course, Mayberry’s biggest blabber mouth, Deputy Barney Fife, lets it slip out that a shipment of gold is on the way. This creates havoc among the citizens of Mayberry. They create an unwanted welcoming for the gold truck and its personnel.
Through a series of bungled assumptions by Deputy Fife, and his recently deputized associate bungler Gomer Pyle, we learn that the truck going through Mayberry was a decoy. The truck carrying the gold went a different route.
When Sheriff Taylor, Deputy Fife, and Deputy Pyle learn this, Deputy Pyle exclaims: “Shazam, a decoy.”
On Thursday afternoon, when I learned of our prayer seeking intruder, I felt like shouting: “Shazam, a prayer decoy.”
Yet, deep inside of me, I was angry, infuriated. Perhaps, I was just as angry as our prayer seeker when he learned that no financial assistance was to be provided because his prayer decoy plot had failed.
When I spoke further with our assistant about this stranger, turns out he wasn’t unknown to Trinity. In fact, I have his name on my prayer list.
In the past, with random infrequency, this person has shown up at Trinity seeking assistance. However, this was the first time that his interaction with church personnel was unacceptable.
One of the wristbands on my right arm says—“be kind.”
I wonder if Jesus would have been “kind” to our prayer seeker?
Might Jesus have confronted the prayer seeker by physically flipping him over like he did the tables in the temple?
Situations like this continue to erode what little Christianity I have left.
I wonder how the prayer seeker is wired?
How can a person falsely request prayer, immediately switch to ask for financial assistance, and seconds later become verbally abusive when asked reasonable, clarifying questions?
I wonder if he had worked his way down Forest Avenue stopping at each church trying the same prayer decoy?
But what I really want to know is what in the person’s lifetime put him in this position?
What is even more aggravating is I’ve been praying for this guy for years, and it appears that my prayers haven’t changed his behavior.
Maybe, I’m the problem.
Maybe, I’m a lousy prayer.
And to be even more truthful, this prayer deceit really bothered me because everyday, I’m praying for people who are in life or death situations with cancer, families who are providing care for loved ones with dementia, friends of our family who have children whose personal lives have fallen apart, and lifelong friends and co-workers whose hearts are forever crushed after tragically losing a daughter or son.
I can make this even more complicated by thinking about Hebrews 13:2: “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it.”
I’m sorry God, but I fail to see any angelic traits from the prayer decoy schemer.
I look forward to the arrival of the magazine The Week in our mail. I always read the Wit and Wisdom section. This section features quotes from a wide variety of mostly famous people.
In the September 5-12 edition, I came across this quote from American writer, James Baldwin: “The reason I will never hate anybody again is that it’s too demeaning a confession on your part if you need to hate somebody. It means you are afraid of the other thing, which is to love and be loved.”
Mr. Baldwin is correct.
I strongly dislike the method of the prayer decoy seeker.
Because of this tactic, I am afraid, unable to love the prayer decoy seeker.
This time last year, there was a mad rush in one wing of our church building to complete a three floor renovation project.
The contractor was doing everything humanly possible to be substantially finished by August 31.
It wasn’t perfect, but the deadline was met. More importantly, the county’s building inspector granted permission to occupy that wing.
In the year that has passed, we’ve spent time with punch lists, uncooperative technology, ambushed water intrusions, and attempting to learn the nuances of the new HVAC system.
HVAC systems are always a challenge. Perhaps the biggest hurdle comes from monitoring our own individual human thermostats.
A few weeks ago, in the neighborhood where our church is located, a powerful late afternoon thunderstorm got our attention. This storm knocked out power to a wide section of the neighborhood.
At the church, the storm disabled two phases of electricity to our building. Full power didn’t return to us until the next afternoon. But in the long minutes when the storm was in action, the flickering ups and downs of the electrical service to our building reeked havoc on some of the components for the new HVAC system.
Because of a shortage of parts from the manufacturer, we’ve been patiently awaiting for repairs.
Recently, one of the technicians for the company was in our building to recheck the monitoring technology.
I wasn’t sure if he remembered me. So, I reintroduced myself.
As I was doing this, he responded to me, “Oh, I know who you are.”
I didn’t know how to take—“Oh, I know who you are,” but we had a good conversation about the challenges involved in getting the HVAC issues solved.
In all my years of working in public schools, we had plenty of challenging students. Students that we knew who they were because rightly or wrongly, their reputations preceded them. For a few of these students, living down their reputations was virtually impossible.
Over time and with the right support, a handful of those students figured out how to make adjustments. Their challenging behaviors became less intrusive.
And then there was a group that no matter what they tried, they just could not keep from getting attention in all the wrong ways. And of course, no matter what the school tried, we could never quite make the right connection, or build the right relationship to help the student adjust.
“Oh, I know who you are,” made me think about my own life.
How do people see me?
Does my reputation precede me?
Do my imperfections create challenges for me and the people I encounter on a daily basis?
Sometimes, I wonder if God really knows who I am?
With so many people in this world, what does God truly know about me?
My guess he knows that my morning prayer routine is too long.
He probably knows that I’m a constant, repetitive whiner.
This is especially true when life goes wrong for good people. I whine to God, “what are you thinking, where are you, how could you let this happen?”
Psalm 139 verse 13 implies that God has known me since I was knit together in my mother’s womb.
In Matthew and Luke, the scripture states that even the hairs of my head are numbered. This is another indication that God knows me down to the hairs on my head.
At this stage of my life, I’d say the hairs on my head are disappearing at such a rapid rate that an accurate inventory is useless.
Whiny old buzzard, new HVAC system behind me (Photo Bill Pike)
I wonder if my shrinking hairline decreases my value in the eyes of the Lord? Am I still of more value than the sparrows of the field?
I have some days on my wobble through life when I think the sparrows of the field are of more value than me.
On those valueless days, I ask myself— why aren’t you doing more?
Where is your voice?
Why aren’t you finding your voice to speak out?
How can you let all of the injustice of this dismantling pass by you in silence?
Maybe God really does know me.
Maybe he knows that I’m nothing more than a whiny old buzzard with no backbone who is gripped by fear of what people will think of me when I finally assert my muted voice.
My wife and I are playing catch up with the Apple TV series—Ted Lasso. We have made it into season three.
In prepping his team, Coach Lasso shares wisdom with his soccer players. Coach Lasso has a way of blending on field wisdom into life wisdom for his players.
I was taken by these words from the script of Episode 12 in Season 2: “To quote the great UCLA college basketball coach, John Obi-Wan Gandalf, “It is our choices, gentlemen, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”
Of course, Coach Lasso was referencing legendary UCLA basketball coach, John Wooden. Coach Wooden not only taught his players the essential details of playing college basketball, but attempted to equip his players about essential life skills too.
“Oh, I know who you are” really comes down to this—do I know who I am?
It is my choices that reveal if I really know who I am.
Regardless of womb knitting, counting hairs, and sparrows, God is watching my clock.
In the remaining time he has allocated for me, I must be wiser. I must find out who I really am.
Growing up in Burlington, North Carolina, every Sunday, I was in church— Sunday school, worship service, and a youth program later that evening. Illness was the only interruption.
That church, Davis Street United Methodist, is now closed. Congregation voted to shutdown. With declining attendance and financial support, staying open wasn’t logical.
To their credit church leaders did their homework. A buyer for the building was found. Over a period of time, the Davis Street congregation opted to merge with another Methodist church.
Over the last fourteen years, I’ve had the privilege of working at my church, Trinity United Methodist. During that time, I’ve learned a lot about churches.
Whether they want to admit it, churches, no matter their size or status, aren’t immune from wondering how much longer can they hang on.
No question, the pandemic had an impact on churches.
Yet, respected research organizations like Gallup and Pew have been reporting for years that churches were struggling.
Six years past the pandemic, congregations are still challenged to address declining attendance, giving, aging members, and deteriorating buildings.
In March of 2024, Gallup reported: “On any given weekend, about three in 10 U.S. adults attend religious services, down from 42% two decades ago.”
A February 2025 study from the Pew Research Center found some stabilization in their data. However, when looking toward the future, this key point was made: “younger Americans remain far less religious than older adults.”
Daniel Silliman, in Christianity Today, and Francis Wilkinson, in Bloomberg, have written about the possible impact that Donald Trump has made in contributing to the decline of church attendance.
No matter who takes the blame, I wonder how frequently church leaders point the finger of blame back at their own shortcomings?
In the baseball movie, Moneyball, there is a pivotal scene between a rookie executive, who is skilled in player analysis, and the seasoned general manager of the team.
The young executive makes a bold statement: “Baseball thinking is medieval, they are asking all the wrong questions.”
Part of me believes that “church thinking is medieval, they are they asking all the wrong questions.”
I’m no expert on churches. However, in this current environment, I think church leaders and congregations are overdue to ask tough questions. That is the only way to determine their current standing in order to determine a path forward.
Part of me believes that churches would benefit from participating in an accreditation process. That process would require churches on an annual basis to assess key evaluative criteria related to: program offerings, finances, outreach, personnel, facilities, safety, technology, and the ability to make meaningful connections.
Conducting an annual review could potentially help churches in making difficult decisions relate to budgets, personnel, facilities, and the effectiveness of their program offerings.
With a need to attract young families, I think churches often overlook the concept of “discretionary time.” Young families often over extend, they are always on the go.
So, how does a church help young families find a fit that works for them? Can churches develop flexibility in their seemingly inflexible traditional schedules for young families?
How can churches be more welcoming to those exploring churches? On a first visit, a nervous visitor doesn’t need to hear the unwelcoming: “Sorry, sonny, but your sitting in my pew.”
Finding their footing for the future means churches can’t fear change.
Churches must embrace change. The path forward will not be found in producing more predictable sameness. Congregations should consider this question—do you want the autopsy for your church to state: cause of death—stubbornly resistant to change.
And speaking of death, why must a funeral be the time to learn all about a church member? Churches must become stronger in building ‘living’ relationships within and outside the walls of the church.
That means becoming more adept in capturing and sharing significant stories within the congregation and community.
How much longer your church can hang on isn’t up to me.
Hanging on depends on your congregation and its leadership, and the willingness to take some risks.
Here are five simple risks:
Compile all essential data about your church for detailed research and review.
From this review, determine what works and what isn’t working within your church.
Resolve to tell the truth from these findings.
Write a report of findings for the congregation that clearly reveals the challenges and strengths of the church.
Use the report of findings as the pivot point for determining how to move forward.
More church closings are unavoidable.
Maybe that’s why this Og Mandino wisdom keeps coming back to me: “I have never heard anything about the resolutions of the apostles, but a good deal about their acts.”
A long time ago someone decided that churches needed to have kitchens.
At our church, we have three: in the original fellowship hall, an oddball one on the third floor of the Preschool wing, and in Trinity Hall.
And there was a mini-kitchen near the church office that we disassembled a few years ago.
I imagine those kitchens could write a book about the life of our church that took place inside those culinary walls.
Cook talk, laughter, gossip, recipes, and compliments were shared.
Back on Wednesday, August 13, my work teammate, Judy Oguich, and I met in the Trinity Hall kitchen to inventory our supplies and make plans for a church wide lunch on Sunday, August 24.
We found adequate supplies of plates, cups, napkins, and utensils.
Since the menu called for grilling hotdogs, we believed we had lots of hotdogs leftover from a community event last fall. Unfortunately, these frozen dogs had long gone past their expiration date. We had to chuck them.
Checking on the condiments that we needed to enhance the hotdogs, we again found that mustard, catsup, relish had an expired.
No matter where we looked, we found food items that were no longer safe to serve.
In truth, I’m not surprised. A few years ago, our church closed out our Wednesday night dinners. No longer could we justify the expense based upon fewer and fewer families attending.
Now, the Trinity Hall Kitchen is used sporadically. The people who use the kitchen leave extra food in the refrigerators. These kindhearted people believe that someone will eventually consume those leftovers.
This wasn’t my first experience in the Trinity Hall Kitchen throwing away outdated or spoiled food.
I had to do this when Hurricane Isabell walloped the neighborhood as electrical service was absent for over a week.
There were other times too.
Leftover food from Sunday night youth dinners were not consumed in a timely manner, and they too had to be tossed.
Perhaps the only good thing that came from disposing of this food was recycling the containers where the food had been stored.
I despise days like Wednesday, and the ones I’ve encountered in the past.
My disgust comes from revisiting Deuteronomy Chapter 15 verse 11: “There will always be poor people in the land.”
And from Matthew 26 and Mark 14: “The poor you will always have with you.”
Look, I’m no Biblical scholar, but those three verses cast an embarrassing guilt over me. In these situations, I could have done better than tossing out all this food.
If I had only been more attune to those refrigerators, we could have fed more people in our community.
I wonder why those three verses are in the Bible?
Were they written as a challenge?
Did the scripture writers think, “Hey, let’s tell the knuckleheads on earth that the poor will always be with them.”
If we tell them this, maybe, they will look at those statements and ask: “Why should we always have the poor with us?”
Why don’t we work together to wipe out poverty in our world so that we will have no poor people.
Seems like a noble idea, but unfortunately, we have been failing for centuries at eliminating poverty.
So why is it that we can explore the vastness of space, perform heart transplants, dam mighty rivers, build skyscrapers that touch the blue yonder, and yet we can’t figure out how to solve the challenges faced by the poor.
Williamsburg, Virginia native, Bruce Hornsby, has built himself quite a career as an extraordinary piano player, songwriter, and singer. His first hit single with his band The Range was a song titled “The Way It Is.”
From my first listening of the song, I was hooked.
The lyrics caught my attention too. The words are a snapshot of ongoing social challenges in America.
But it is the chorus that stuck to me: “That’s just the way it is. Some things’ll never change. That’s just the way it is. Ah, but don’t you believe them.”
Having the poor with us, “That’s just the way it is. Some things’ll never change.”
For me, the bleak affirmation of those two lines is countered with the last line: “Ah, but don’t you believe them.”
We are long overdue to believe that we can solve the vicious generational cycles of our poor.
While I will not set any speed records, my old body still allows me to go out for a run.
Since the start of 2025, I’ve had the privilege of running in the Florida Keys, North Carolina, San Francisco and Monterey, California, Vancouver, British Columbia, Fairbanks, Alaska, and almost in Keystone, Colorado.
I was all set to go for a run in Keystone, but my body talked me out of it. My body did not like the change in altitude. In Keystone, the altitude is 9,173 feet. Where I live in Richmond, Virginia the altitude is 150 feet.
We arrived in Colorado on Saturday, July 26. By Monday, my body started to feel acclimated.
I know that I was lucky, privileged to be able to go for a run in those different locations. And as fortunate as I was with that opportunity, I still enjoy taking a run in our Richmond neighborhood.
No doubt those other locations offering unique settings for a run, but as Dorothy said in The Wizard of Oz—“there’s no place like home.”
For seventy two years, I have lived in North Carolina and Virginia. The entire southeast is known for its uncomfortable summertime temperatures. When heat, dew point, and humidity conspire to create daytime heat indexes over one hundred degrees, there is nothing like it.
Air conditioners strain, pets are hesitant to go outside, and the air is as thick as pound cake batter.
The sinking of the sun offers no relief. Sure the intensity of the sun is gone, but the still night time air has no pulse. Leaves don’t rustle, and when dawn breaks the temperature will be 75 degrees, with a dew point of 74 degrees, and a humidity reading of 96%—a sauna.
And now, I will confirm for you what you have known for many years now—Bill Pike is crazy— just like Max Klinger from MASH in search of his Section 8. I’m crazy because every summer I look forward to taking an early morning simmering sinner run through my neighborhood in those unbearable conditions.
On the morning of Saturday, July 12, I took a simmering sinner run. I ran the neighborhood 5K route in reverse starting at our house instead of Trinity.
By the time, I had completed my run from head to toe my entire body was soaked in perspiration. I could wring water out of my t-shirt and shorts. When I walked inside our house, I felt like I had walked into a ice chest.
Mentally, the simmering sinner run is good for me. I feel like any meanness in my body has been removed. It has dripped out of my pores.
Following the run, here is the bad news—any removal of my meanness, worry, anxiety, and discontentment is only temporary.
You might be thinking, Bill, why is your satisfactory simmering sinner run only temporary?
Here is my explanation from Dr. George Sheehan from his book Running To Win: “Life is not logical. Life is not rational.”
I think Dr. Sheehan’s assessment is correct.
Speaking for myself, at this very moment in my life, my country, America, is not logical and not rational.
Back on July 26, 1993, using a gift certificate from a friend, I bought Dr. Sheehan’s book at a Barnes and Noble on Parham Road. That store is gone.
I have never read Dr. Sheehan’s book from beginning to end. I have read it in pieces and highlighted his wisdom and wisdom from others that he quotes.
Tonight, I came across this wisdom in the last paragraph of the Epilogue.
Dr. Sheehan wrote: “The glory of God,” wrote Ireneus, one of the early church fathers, “is man fully functioning.” Find your place to do that, and you will find the peace that passeth all understanding.
Again, speaking for myself, America is not fully functioning for the good of all Americans.
For my old brain, this is a concern.
And in that concern is our inability to find our place and understanding.
I fear if we continue down our current path, peace will never grace America again.
August 30, 1971, the Beach Boys released their album Surf’s Up. In case your curious, the album features no songs about surfing.
On side two, there is a pretty, heartfelt song from Brian Wilson titled ’Til I Die. I think about one line from that song quite a bit—“I lost my way.”
A timeline of my life will reveal that I have “lost my way” on many occasions.
And yet, some compass, some internal voice, some nudge, some whisper seems to correct my path. Isaiah 33:22 states: “For the Lord is our judge, the Lord is our lawgiver, the Lord is our king; it is he who will save us.”
America has lost its way.
I wonder if America can be saved from this dysfunction?
Hot summer sun rising over Rollingwood. (Photo Bill Pike)
might be baloney 