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From the first time I got the idea to make Bill’s sermons available to more people, I called it my dream job. For I could see this dream meant work, but it was closer to being a passion. With the help of our German friend, Stefanie, we converted cassette taped sermons into digital format using Audacity. Putting these messages online happened with the skill set of John, a tech guy from the Wesleyan church we attended in Terre Haute, Indiana. Bill’s sermons on Ezra and Nehemiah may still be available on Sermon Cloud: www.sermoncloud/billcokersr  After we moved to Indianapolis, my friend, Jennie, let me know she listened to them.

During the past four years, we have seen three books published. First was Bill’s sermons on the Ten Commandments: Words of Endearment, then a book of pastoral prayers: Prayers for the People. At the end of 2021, The Scandal of Christmas (four Advent messages) was printed. We are grateful for how these books have been accepted. The most satisfying part for us has been connecting with family and friends (readers) who relay their appreciation. The next book in process is on the subject of holiness and co-authored by our son Bill, Jr.

In this time that seems like being on hold, our daughter, Becky, has encouraged us to start a podcast of her dad’s sermons. She believes that people would like to hear the messages, and we agree. I sent an email to a few friends and family members to ask if they would listen. So far, it is definitely yes. That’s when my dream job got bigger. I knew nothing about podcasting. That’s in past tense, for I’m learning. Podcasts on many and varied subjects are booming across the country and around the world.

We now have a superb team with millenniums who are tech savvy. Michael, our grandson in California, prepared the art for the app and is busy converting the tapes into digital format, and he will also handle the mix. I’ve written the intros and outros and will do marketing. Dan, a friend in the church we attend, will be the host, for he has a fine voice for an announcer. Erik, a super tech guy, is what I call our program master, advising me and handling the recordings, among other items in his skill set. And we have Becky as our motivator and encourager. Bill has been told what’s going on, and is in agreement. In April, a launch date will start with an announcement, a teaser, and will follow the next week with the first sermon: “An Introduction to the Decalogue.” This starts the series of messages coming from Bill’s book and connecting with the name of the podcast: Words of Endearment with Bill Coker. Look for it soon. We are confident that you will tune in to hear Bill preach online. Grateful in advance.

I’m writing in a new journal that asks questions, and while these are not always to my liking, they do make me think. Today’s question: What is your favorite way to relax and rejuvenate yourself? This led me to think of changes over the years in our Sabbath habits.

Rest on the Sabbath is a command, but we’ve adjusted that to our desires. As a child and teen, our family restricted activities on Sunday. Mother and Dad prepared on Saturday for a more restful Sunday. Mother cooked the meal ahead and had only to warm it up when we returned from church. On Saturday Dad polished all the family shoes. They worked together on home-made ice cream as our supply for the week’s desert. We kids made sure we had clean clothes and chose what we’d wear on Sunday.

We attended worship service Sunday morning and youth group at night. We were not restricted about such things as watching sports on TV, reading Sunday comics in the newspaper, or playing outside. But we did no “work,” and that included sewing which I loved to do. We rarely went out for Sunday dinner – then or later when Bill and I were married. Most afternoons I curled up on the couch with the dog for a nap, special for Sundays.

Now in Indy, we are relaxed about observing what’s “work.” Becky prepares a special nourishing dinner while Bill and I wait (not to his liking ;-). I often think ahead about what I’ll do on Sunday afternoons: make cards, write letters, color, read. Since we have no evening worship service, I would prefer not to cook supper and have only popcorn and ice cream, but that’s not Bill’s choice. Over the years our Sabbath rest has changed, except for the priority of worship service.

Sunday evening, February 6th, our church held a Service of Lament, utilizing songs and Psalm 13. We were given instructions on crafting a personal lament. I give it a try here.

God is here and He is there with my sister and our friends who grieve.

I cry out for comfort for my sister and my friends whose loved ones have gone home to Jesus.

I know God is present and He sustains us in loss as well as celebrates our victories.

I long to see my sister and our friends know God is there, that He is real, with us all.

I cry out for comfort for my sister and my friends whose loved ones have gone home to Jesus.

I would not want my sister and friends to go one moment without God’s presence.

I long to see my sister and our friends know God is there, that He is real, with us all.

For myself and others I want God’s protection, provision, and presence always.

I would not want my sister and friends to go one moment without God’s presence.

I know God is present and He sustains us in loss as well as celebrates our victories.

For myself and others I want God’s protection, provision, and presence always.

God is here and He is there with my sister and our friends who grieve.

Last month I bought a box of sympathy cards. After mailing cards to the family members, I have two left. I’m grateful for these beloved and the contributions they have made to our lives. Their love and Christian testimony continues to live within us. I’m also thankful for those who let us know about the passing of these loved ones and dear friends. My constant prayer for these families is that God will be there for them as He is here with us. He is the “God of all comfort who comforts us in all our afflictions so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (2 Cor. 1:3-4). Our afflictions do not have to be the same, similar, or from the same source, for it’s God’s comfort we extend to others.

During the Christmas season my main thought was about Emmanuel, God with us, and now it continues to be uppermost in my mind. God’s presence is real. I would not want to go one moment without the presence of God in my life. He is with me, here, and I rely on His presence.

I tend to pray in triplets: for God’s provision, protection, and presence. In Proverbs I take note of knowledge, understanding, and wisdom, and I (we) need all three. I ask God to be there with those who are grieving and here with us as we pray for them. And I can trust that He will answer, the Holy Spirit filling us all and making His presence felt.

May you be enveloped in God’s presence with you, sustaining, satisfying, and supplying your needs physically, emotionally, and spiritually. To those who are in the long process of grief, be assured that God loves you and I love you.

The recent move of a furniture item left me thinking about loss as I tried to analyze my emotional attachment to a “thing.” The title of a chapter in a book (The Long Run by Richard Sherry) summarizes my thoughts: Accumulated Losses. I start from the end and work backward.

All things are temporary. One day we will travel a holy highway leading us to our heavenly home where material things will not matter. We will feast at the Lord’s table and enjoy the company of those who have gone before us. Most blessed of all will be seeing Jesus face-to-face.

In 2017 we made a wise decision to sell our home in Terre Haute, IN, and move to Indianapolis, buying a home together with our daughter and her husband. But this move meant loss of property (including our Narnia lamp) and giving away lots of things. A friend helped with perspective after he toured the apartment space in our new home. I said something about all we had lost and he replied, “But you have all you need.” His correct evaluation led me to a grateful attitude.

The greatest loss I currently experience is watching and listening to my husband whose memory diminishes almost daily. A few years ago at Christmas our daughter gave her dad a book of family photos so he can readily identify those he loves, connecting names with faces.

Friends contact us about family members who have died, so it helps Bill relate when I show him a photo of that person. Those losses have added to our grief of late: my brother-in-law in NM, one of Bill’s seminary friends (90-years-old), a member of our former church, and the son of a college co-worker. We lift them in prayer.

I conclude that loss hurts but can be a gift to new connections. While we give things away, we hold onto memories associated with those objects. And one day we will know what truly matters.

Looking over books on my shelves, I pulled off 14 books whose authors I know, some more personally than others. Two are members of BookCamp: Julie McGhghy and Laura Lynn Hughes. Some are in our Heartland Christian Writers group: John Walker, Joyce Long, and Linda Sammaritan. Two I know from churches: Gretchen K. Engel and David Lantz. Callie Daruk is a blogger; so is Peter Heck. Richard J. Sherry I know from Asbury College; and Hilary McDowell I met in Ireland. Three I met at writers conferences and webinars: Marlene Bagnull, James N. Watkins, and Mary E. DeMuth. One is my husband, William B. Coker, whose three books I’ve edited and prepped for publication.

I could have added one by our son and another by a grandson with the help of his brother. Proud of these family members who made time to write and publish. I’m sure if I searched further I’d find other books by authors I’ve known through the years.

As I consider this search and find, the thought surfaced that many books have introduced me to their authors who have become like close friends. The first book I read by Francine Rivers was The Atonement Child; and since I am thoroughly pro-life, I wrote to her. Rivers surprised me with a warm letter that I’ve kept. Walter Wangerin, Jr.’s books have a special place on my shelves and in my heart. I was a teenager when I first read The Diary of Anne Frank and she introduced me to a young girl’s view of Hitler’s Nazi regime.  

Then there are numerous devotionals I’ve collected and read, some more than once. I gravitate to the classics, such as those written by C.H. Spurgeon, Thomas R. Kelly, E. Stanley Jones, Hannah Whitall Smith, Amy Carmichael, Oswald Chambers, and Mrs. Charles E. Cowman. Recently two authors, Bob Hostetler and James N. Watkins, have compiled devotionals from writings by Samuel Logan Brengle and Thomas A. Kempis, among others. I’m grateful for the contributions these author-friends have made to my spiritual growth. They could do the same for you.

Getting into a new year is like opening a brand-new box of crayons. You expect the colors you want to use, but the tips are pristine; and you might be surprised with some new shades not seen before. With a new year, you have the same-ole schedule, and yet expectations are heightened to the point of anticipating surprises that border on hope.

I’ve looked forward to the end of 2021 for several reasons. One is because I’ll be finishing books I’ve been reading all year. December 31 marks the completion of going through The One Year Pray for Life Bible (NLT) promoted by Joni Eareckson Tada. Without any reservation, I can say I’m proud of this accomplishment: reading the whole Bible in one year. Each day included an Old Testament passage, New Testament passage, in order, along with a Psalm and a few verses from Proverbs. Only a few days out of 2021 did I have to double-up on reading the prescribed selections. I will also complete a book of prayers: Jesus Every Day: A Journey Through the Bible in One Year by Mary DeMuth. She selected a verse or two from Scripture each day and then composed a prayer. These have been heart-warming and spiritually strengthening. I recommend both books, along with Mary’s podcast: Pray Every Day.

If I were to do inventory, I could report on lessons learned about myself. One proved itself late one night: I am insistent but not persuasive. I can insist that Bill do something, but that doesn’t persuade him to do it. How’s that for a laugh? I thought I had a new technique, and while new it was not effective. He won. Now I take that as a slight win for me also, for I found out something about myself and can value that lesson.

So what do I hope to see happen in the new year? What could be the best gift for us all is that Covid would die a quick death. Too many of our family are reporting positive with this new strand. Aren’t you tired of this pandemic? I know your answer; it’s the same as mine. We want to be back to normal. But our son told me that normal is only a setting on the dryer. That so, I want to experience a day without news of someone else I know who tested positive for Covid. That would be a sweet gift. To know that we are healthy, experiencing the best we can be would welcome in the new year.

We’ve heard that joy and happiness are different. But what marks their distinction? The source.

Happiness is often associated with surface conditions. Joy is internal and can exist even when life has gone sour.

Happy thoughts and feeling cheerful can come on unexpectedly, but joy is a choice, a deep-felt glow. Henri Nouwen wrote: “Joy does not simply happen to us. We have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day.”

We see why it’s so appropriate that joy is one theme of the weeks of Advent. We have waited to celebrate His birth, and we now wait for His second Advent. We anticipate with joy His return and the culmination of history – His Story.

Love is the fourth candle of Advent. “God so loved the world that He sent His only, beloved Son” for our redemption. Love is the motive behind the gift of the Christ Child and then on to His life of service, His cruel sacrificial death, and His unexpected resurrection. The babe, wound in cloths, wrapped in love, lay in a feeding troth that early Christmas morn. The God-Man left His glory above to arrive by unnatural means, virgin-born, to live among, serve, and die for the creatures He made in His image.

The Christ Candle, lit on Christmas Eve or Day, doesn’t have a theme, only His glorious redeeming name – Christ – Savior, Messiah. All the other candles revolve around the Christ Candle and alert us to His character of hope, peace, joy, and love. These candles are lit only to show forth the Light of the world who is Jesus.

This day after Christmas; rejoice, for we find our hope, peace, joy, and love in Christ and none other. May the new year find your fulfillment in Christ as His presence fills your days.

As I think of the word Peace and its meaning, I have scattered references and thoughts. As the second Sunday of Advent focuses on “peace,” the second candle is lit in the Advent wreath in church and homes across the nation and around the world. Peace often has an elusive meaning.

Most every evening we watch reruns of the TV show “MASH,” and they speak of peace talks. These affirm that communication often comes before solutions of peace, whether it occurs between nations or individuals. There is the hope that peace will come out of these talks.

Attaching some meanings to the word Peace, I think of calm after a storm, release from stressful situations, being settled into a routine that works, and restful sleep. Just this morning I awoke out of a dead sleep and saw Bill, fully dressed, staring at me from the foot of the bed. My first thought was not peaceful, but awareness of breakfast not being ready. Up and at it through a foggy mind not ready for the start of the day. Peace came later when we sat at the table and Bill offered the blessing.

Jesus came as the “Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6). The angels announced his birth to lowly shepherds: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests” (Luke 2:14). But we note that those who first received the announcement (Zechariah, Mary, the shepherds, Joseph) were troubled and had to be told, “Be not afraid” (Luke 1:11, 30; 2:10; Matthew 1:20). Fear and peace do not co-exist. Then Zechariah’s song included a request for God “to guide our feet into the path of peace” (Luke 1:79), a fitting plea from us today.

As I read Psalm 125, it closes with “May Israel have peace!” At first I questioned the exclamation mark behind the word peace, for it emphasizes what’s active, not calming. Yet peace can be in an active voice, directing us to work at what will accomplish peace in our ordinary lives. Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. May we also pray and work for peace daily.

In today’s mail, we received a creative homemade Christmas card featuring a dove. Its title: “Peace on Earth.” The inside greeting: “Wishing you a calm and blessed Christmas filled with the true peace of Christ the Lord.” Thanks to Terri & Rick.

Good morning, I’m Kim.  Walking into a season that we know as Advent, longing and expectation captivate us. Our hearts may sense a variety of responses…often the focus is on the goodness of this season, yet for some this season may bring heartache and pain and the anticipation is not welcomed. Together we can enter, bringing whatever we carry into this season and we turn our eyes to the hope of the gospel.  Paul invites us to understand hope as beyond us and within us at the same time when he offer “Christ in you is the hope of Glory.”  (Light the candle.)

I was asked what is hope to me? And I often think of hope as a peaceful, positive, wonderful feeling or experience…when in reality hope can actually be dangerous and painful as I hope for things that feel risky and impossible. I have no assurance that what I hope for will ever come to pass…yet if I do not hope, even though dangerous, I will live in despair. 

So…Hope for me is experiencing the brilliance of humanity as it fights to survive a microscopic killer with adjustments, solutions, and vaccines. 

Hope for me is experiencing the brilliance of humanity as it fights generations of injustices and trauma by confronting it over and over on behalf of people long silenced and offering something different to instill hope in others. 

Hope for me is entertaining the ideas that we might do better in this world with ourselves, with each other, with God.  

Hope for me is being captivated by watching my children experience life in ways I never did or could, make decisions that bring them harm and joy, and find their glory even when it is not what I once thought was their glory. 

Hope for me is being in awe of the creativity of humanity in the midst of times of disconnection, disillusionment, and dissatisfaction. 

Hope for me can be reckless, dreamy, and full of desire. I wonder what you desire today, and what do you bring into this day as deep longing…could it be there without your judging whether it is good or bad?

Will you join me in prayer:

God of hope. God of wonder. God of majesty

You are beyond us, yet within us

You are the very presence of life in us and we carry the weight of your death. Maybe our hope today can reflect the invigorating life and colors of fall while at the same time ushering in the death of winter. 

From the microcosm of cells pulsing and moving through our bodies right now, to the creation of the world outside of us…all chorusing together in a crescendo of life…beauty for our eyes and ears to take in with wonder.

We come before you as your creation, in your image, with all you created bursting at the seams to be seen and known. Our realization of this comes with an understanding of all we are not at the same time. We are known to you, yet not what you envisioned; we are loved by you, yet cannot love the way you wanted; we are light to the world, yet we cast shadows everywhere we go; we are beings of desire and hope made in your image, yet we continue to encounter despair, ignoring the very desire you embed in us. May we know your enduring love in the presence of our humanity.

Would you remind us of your hope…your desire that lives in us. Would you awaken our hearts to understand what longing is, that we might step in at risk…to long, to desire, even when it is painful or makes no sense? We judge the world you created, yet judge ourselves even more harshly; and somewhere in this conundrum is your sweet welcoming of us and all you have created within us to be your very glory. How can that be? Would you capture us with your outstanding presence so we might be captured with ourselves and with those around us each day…maybe as this happens we might catch a glimpse of your hope in us. As we breathe in a moment of silence, would you turn our gaze to the world outside these walls…might you nudge us to be captivated by all of you in it, even the parts we might not typically welcome as your creation. Silence

Oh God of hope, from whom all blessings flow…the weight of your sacrifice with the backdrop of hope is matchless. There is no encore as you are ever present as a seal of love on our hearts. There is no hope without you and we embody the very glory that is the hope of Christ.

God of hope. God of wonder. God of majesty

Let us not lose sight of you…the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen