I’m Bill Pike, the director of operations for Trinity. Before starting, here are my disclaimers: I’m not a Biblical scholar, nor a degreed theologian, but I do have certification as a lay speaker.
In truth, I’m a rapidly aging, grumpy geezer who slings baloney. My monotone voice is guaranteed to put the sleep deprived in a deep sleep in a matter of minutes.
On a Sunday morning, when I pinch hit in the pulpit, the U.S. Geological Survey picks up substantial seismic shifts across Virginia graveyards. These detections are where former Methodist bishops and district superintendents are buried. They are rolling in their graves, and saying not Pike again
Despite my disclaimers, I’m honored to be with you on this Father’s Day.
Let us pray: Father of us all, forgive my old heart. Amen.
My deeply Methodist parents would be pleased to know that I have the opportunity to deliver a hellfire and damnation sermon to a bunch of heathens this morning.
Relax, I’m teasing you. I’m the heathen who needs to be saved.
Deep inside their hearts, my parents wanted me to become a Methodist minister. There was only on problem with their dream.
My brain is like this ancient cowboy insult: He is as shy of brains as a terrapin is of feathers.
Even if God had greased my entry, I had no chance at being admitted to Duke Divinity School.
Somehow, despite my many faults, my parents loved me. I think the best trait my father gave me was an understanding heart.
My father could get riled, especially if wire grass or rabbits invaded his garden, but he had a good heart.
On Sundays, after church, my parents, my sister and me came home. We devoured my mother’s delicious homemade lunch, and then the only thing my father wanted was a nap.
The only thing I hoped for on Sunday afternoons was that my father took a short nap. I wanted him to pitch a baseball to me, toss a football, or shoot baskets.
My father hoped his son would allow him thirty minutes of snoring.
Hey, I seem to recall that our scripture reading for today mentions hope.
“We rejoice in our hope of sharing the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us because God’s love has been poured into our hearts.”
I’m not sure about you, but I don’t see many people who are in a battle with cancer rejoicing.
Nor do I see a homeless person on a street corner rejoicing.
The same for the parent of a son or daughter who is fighting a substance abuse addiction.
In my thirty one years of work in public education, I remember my peers saying, “If you can teach in a middle school, you can teach anywhere.” That’s a form of endurance to survive all of the physical and emotional challenges that middle school students face in their development.
The scripture goes further to tell us that endurance produces character.
For today, let’s think about character in terms of our integrity, our moral fiber, our moral strength, our temperament, our fortitude.
How might our character—our integrity, moral fiber, moral strength, temperament, and fortitude produce hope?
Let’s take a Mayberry detour for a minute.
In this scene, Sheriff Taylor is concerned about his son, Opie. Opie is constantly chatting about a Mr. McVeebee.
Based upon Opie’s descriptions of Mr. McVeebee, Sheriff Taylor believes that Opie is making up all of this stuff. Sheriff Taylor decides to confront Opie.
Let’s play the clip now.
Parenting, no matter if it is in fictional Mayberry or here on Forest Avenue, is tough work.
There can be suffering in parenting.
Parenting can wipe out endurance.
Parenting can test our character, our judgment, our decision making.
In this scene, what is Sheriff Taylor hoping? What is Opie hoping?
Sheriff Taylor is hoping to learn the truth from Opie.
Opie is hoping his father will believe him.
How many times in our lives are we asked to believe when we have doubts?
Deep inside Sheriff Taylor, he must still have doubts about Opie’s convictions. But somehow his integrity, moral fiber, moral strength, temperament, and fortitude convince him to believe in his son.
As it turns out, Opie was telling the truth about Mr. McVeebee. He was a real person.
For a parent, there is no greater relief when your character endures the suffering and hope does not disappoint us.
Let’s travel from Mayberry to England for the first season of the Apple TV show, Ted Lasso.
In this locker room scene, Ted is talking to his team before their soccer game.
Ted says: “So I’ve been hearing this phrase y’all got over here that I ain’t too crazy about— “It’s the hope that kills you.” Y’all know that? I disagree, you know? I think it’s the lack of hope that comes and gets you. See, I believe in hope.”
I love those words from Joe Kelly, Jason Sudeikis, and Brendan Hunt.
I’ve thought quite a bit about the line: “I think it’s the lack of hope that comes and gets you.”
I’ll be honest, I have days when I lose hope.
There are days that I want to walk into this sanctuary, and stare into that stained glass rendering of Jesus and shout out: “Hey, Jesus, where are you?”
People are suffering down here.
Where are your miracles from the New Testament?
1 Thessalonians 5:17 says “pray continually.”
I do pray every day. Where are you?
John 15:7 states: “If you remain in me, and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you.”
Jesus, I’m not perfect
But, my life is in you, and your words are in me.
I’m asking for the people battling cancer, the homeless person on the corner, and those fighting addiction where are you? Their hopes, their wishes are not being fulfilled.
I can’t imagine what it is like to be God or Jesus.
Everyday whiny, cranky, grumpy old men like me rail against them.
I suspect God and Jesus want to shout back, “Hey, Bill, where are you? What are you doing to bring hope into this world?”
Ed Smylie was a NASA engineer.
On April 13, 1970, Mr. Smylie was at home. He received a phone call. An oxygen tank aboard the Apollo 13 spacecraft had exploded.
It was Ed Smylie and his team who figured out how the astronauts could build an air scrubber from the materials aboard the spacecraft.
Once Smylie and his team designed and built that air scrubber, they taught the astronauts how to build and install the air scrubber for the spacecraft.
The air scrubber removed the carbon dioxide from the spacecraft. This creative intervention kept the astronauts alive.
Smylie always downplayed his role in this “lifesaving of the astronauts.”
He had this to say about constructing the air scrubber: “If you’re a Southern boy, if it moves, and it’s not supposed to, you use duct tape.”
Does this equation work? Suffering + endurance + character+ duct tape+ love = hope.
For the astronauts, their families, and the leaders at NASA, that equation worked. Smylie and his team’s solution gave hope.
On the morning of Sunday, June 1, Trinity member, Courtenay Brooks stopped by my office. She asked if had any super glue.
The heel, the sole of her shoe was separating. I handed Courtenay a roll of duct tape. She put her shoe back together.
When life looks bleak, maybe our souls are hoping that a person with endurance, character, love, and duct tape shows up.
In my thirty one years of working in public schools, I learned many student names.
At Lakeside Elementary School, we had a young lady in the third grade whose name was Hope.
I wonder where Hope is today?
Hope never knew this, but on those days when things go wrong inside a school building, Hope’s name gave me hope.
One day the school nurse came to my office. Hope was in the clinic. She was really sick. She needed to go home. When the nurse phoned Hope’s home, the line kept ringing busy.
My father’s understanding heart took over.
With the address in hand, I asked our guidance counselor to ride with me to take Hope home.
When we arrived, the family dog greeted me in the yard with lots of welcoming hospitality.
A member of the household came out. I explained what was taking place.
This person was apologetic and grateful.
Sometimes hope comes from a soft heart taking a risk.
Maybe you have read Isabel Wilkerson’s book The Warmth Of Other Suns.
Then you know that Ida Mae Brandon Gladney, George Swanson Starling, and Robert Joseph Pershing Foster took risks. These were challenging risks. They left Mississippi, Florida, and Louisiana as part of the Great Migration.
Each of these individuals suffered through the injustices of the South. In their suffering, their character was developed.
Enduring the South gave them an extra layer of endurance and courage to pursue the perilous journey to new opportunities.
And in every mile to Chicago, New York City, and Los Angeles hope hovered around them like a guardian angel.
Let’s take one more cinematic look at hope.
Please play this last clip.
Hope is a good thing.
No good thing ever dies.
You, me, we, us can’t let hope die.
At this very moment someone is suffering.
Might be a person in this Sanctuary, someone watching on line, a neighbor, a colleague at work, a relative, a friend, or a stranger, and no matter what is hanging over these people—they need hope.
We don’t give God and Jesus days off. In this weary world, they are overworked.
That’s why they ask, “Hey Bill, where are you? What are you doing to make this world less weary? How are you giving weary people hope?”
With our endurance, character, and the grace and love of God, in our hearts, we can be the duct tape, the hope for those who are struggling.
Even though I had lots of rotten moments, my father never lost hope that despite not becoming a Methodist minister that I might land on my feet someday.
Sheriff Taylor in a difficult moment of parenting hoped that his decision to believe in Opie was the right one.
Ted Lasso helped his team to see hope from a different angle.
Ed Smylie and his team gave the astronauts hope.
Courtenay Brooks found hope for a shoe in duct tape.
Ida Mae Brandon Gladney, George Swanson Starling, and Robert Joseph Pershing Foster never lost their hope when they took the greatest risks of their lives.
An unassuming, energetic third grade student named Hope gave a weary principal hope on lousy school days.
And in The Shawshank Redemption, Ellis Boyd “Red” Redding showed us that the endurance of friendship can redeem hope.
Remember the simple equation of words: suffering + endurance + character+ love + duct tape = hope.
Let’s rewrite that word equation: my heart + your hearts + our hearts + God’s love = hope.
God and Jesus can’t do it all.
Let your father take a nap this afternoon.
But when that nap is over, figure out how next week will be different.
It will be different because you, me, we, us are going to use our endurance, character, duct tape, God’s love, and our understanding hearts to give hope to a weary soul.
Benediction
Whether here in the Sanctuary or watching on line, thanks for putting up with me this morning.
I often wonder where our student, Hope, might be today.
I’ll tell you where Hope is today.
She is in each of your hearts.
I have one small favor.
Before Monday arrives, find the duct tape in your home. Cut off a piece of the tape and write the word hope on it. Then put that piece of tape where you can see it every day.
Now go in peace and use God’s love and your understanding hearts to give hope.
Author’s note: On Sunday, June 15, 2025, Father’s Day, I had the privilege of speaking at Trinity United Methodist Church on Forest Avenue in Henrico County, Virginia. If you want to watch the presentation go to this link: https://www.trinityumc.net/media and go to Summer Worship, you should come to a play button for Sunday, June 15. At the 26:30 mark is when I start. Thanks for your time, be safe, Bill Pike
might be baloney 