AFM missionary “Uncle Fred” Coker passed away in a tragic car accident on Wednesday, March 26, 2025, while traveling on a project-related trip from the AFM Kono Project to Freetown, Sierra Leone.

Our first days in Guinea were challenging ones as we adapted, tried to establish patterns and immersed ourselves in the language and culture. As experienced missionaries, we had still not learned to endure the rigors of mission life in this place we would grow to love and call home for the next decade. Those early days had their challenges, yes, but there were one or two exceedingly bright spots.

The two brightest spots were Fred and Isatta Coker. A few years younger than us, they attended the Conakry church, as did we. Conakry at the time had only one church, and it was the only one for hundreds, even thousands of kilometers in all directions. That little church was the meeting spot for the ADRA expats, other expats from the West and the African subregion, many refugees from war, and a missionary family trying to learn to live there. Fred and Isatta stood out to us as happy people. Little did we know that their sunny dispositions, their energetic approach to life, and their willingness to always help had been formed and forged in the suffering occasioned by war and the unmentionable experiences they endured. God had given them faith and had saved them for a purpose, and we would discover that over the years together.

As our little circle of friends in Conakry grew, Fred and Isatta took a prominent place. It was Fred and his wife who taught us how to interpret the culture we did not yet understand and how to begin to make a home even when there was uncertainty and conflict. In their simple way, they modeled what friendship and loyalty across cultures can be. Fred also demonstrated to other church members that it was okay to befriend us and that we could be trusted. He was a connector, a Barnabas, who saw the possibilities in others and was willing to invest in them, even if that meant discomfort for him.

In 2003, when we moved from the capital to the place that would be our home, Fred told me he wanted to learn from us and asked if he and Isatta could join us in the mission. We prayed and advocated for them with our field directors and were delighted to inform the Cokers that, yes, we were happy to welcome them to our team. And over the years we would come to appreciate them both more than words can say. Fred, ever resourceful, optimistic and determined, was always a big dreamer.

Something else Fred modeled in his
life was what it meant to be a constant learner. He was not stuck in a static rut; he was always expanding his skills and growing his gifts by doing the job before him to the best of his ability. He was overlooked at times by church and mission-related colleagues because he had never gotten more than a high school education. I knew the man, so I resented that attitude, as I knew Fred’s character and potential. What people did not know was that he had sacrificed to assist others. And when I spoke to him years later about taking the opportunity to study and get a degree, become a pastor, or get some other professional qualification,

even while he was working as a missionary, his response was always the same. “Uncle Marc,” he would say after he waited patiently through my pitch, “My goal now is to make sure that my kids are educated. I am okay, but let me concentrate and take care of them, and I will be happy.” Finally, I gave up trying to persuade him, convinced that while he was personally dedicated to self-improvement, his burden was to make sure his children had the best opportunities possible. This was Fred, selfless to the end, always promoting the well-being of others, his family first and then many members and young people over the years.

On the project through the years, life became busy. For an extended period, the team was comprised of no less than 15 people: expat families like ours, local families and student missionaries. Fred was the perfect assistant project director. He developed into a decisive leader, at ease among people of all backgrounds, affable yet firm, and not afraid to stand his ground.

One time the school was being threatened by religious zealots because the Bible was taught as a subject in the school. I remember strongly advising that we close the doors of the campus temporarily until we figured out where exactly the threat was coming from and could work with the authorities. Fred refused my suggestion with force. “No,” he said, “we cannot allow them to intimidate us or think that we are afraid. We will not close!” We did not, and his firmness proved right. We learned later more about the source of the opposition, and understanding the culture and exercising the decisiveness he had developed, his counsel proved beneficial.

Fred, as I said, was a visionary. As young people started to become members and began to keep the Sabbath, they experienced many difficulties with their studies, as the Sabbath is, in the French school system, a standard school day. End-of-cycle exit exams from primary and secondary school are also held on Sabbath. This was unacceptable, and though we did not have the resources to start a school, we felt we had no choice. We started with six students in secondary and six in primary in a villa badly in need of maintenance. Fred was there assisting, counseling and eventually directing. After a decade of ministry there, we realized that Fred and Isatta had developed into excellent leaders and needed space to exercise their gifts. We realized that we had worked ourselves out of a meaningful job. To stay would have been to the detriment of a man who was now capable of leading the project on his own and needed room to do so.

When Cathy and I left the project and returned to the U.S., the school had already grown into another building, and there were just under a hundred regular students. Fred assumed leadership of the church-planting project and the school. He undertook a program that developed church and school leaders and, with his team, led the school to complete financial self-sufficiency and a student body of nearly a thousand young people. He was a man that led by prayer and always pointed those who followed him to depend on God. I think this is what enabled him to do so much.

I could go on recounting the experiences in church planting, pioneer mission work and confronting danger together with this humble servant of God. But please allow me to share a few personal notes as I close this reflection. Some of my family’s most precious memories are of the family bonds we established with two of the dearest people in the world to us as we labored together to plant God’s church among the Susu. There were those times we would sit at night on the porch; the power in the city was out more than it was on. We would sit in the stillness, our family, the Cokers and the Toorays (another mission family on the project), with maybe a kerosene lamp, a flashlight or two, and a few mosquito coils to ward off the ever-present and dangerous pests. We would talk, share stories, laugh and encourage each other. There we were, growing together in our service for the Lord. We all became more than deep friends; we considered each other family. Fred was “Uncle Fred” to our girls, and until the day he passed, he was their closest uncle.

The tragic day when I got the news, I was traveling back to the office after lunch when I looked at my phone and noticed repeated calls from Pastor Joe Reynolds, another one of the young people that Fred and I had invested in and labored for together. I thought that it must be urgent, so I returned the call. He broke the terrible news that Fred had died in a car accident. After I hung up the phone, I began to hyperventilate and had to park the car again. I called my wife in shock to tell her the unbelievable news. We, with the rest of those close to “Uncle Fred,” remain in shock.

But I want to publicly, in this small way, thank God for Uncle Fred. He was more than a friend to me and was a dedicated servant of God. When he passed, he was doing what he always did. He was on a supply run to get materials for the programs he was leading to bless and help others. Tears fill my eyes, and my heart aches, but I look forward to a better day when he and I can again trade stories. This time we will not go off into the night on slippery trails with our flashlights, each family to their home after an evening of visiting. No, then we will have all eternity to share; we will walk on broad streets of transparent gold, and darkness will be nonexistent, for God Himself will provide the light. Let us all meet Uncle Fred there, embrace and worship in unity. Best of all, Fred will have limitless opportunities to grow in his leadership, dream big and continue to be Fred—a blessing to many people!

Fred Coker ultimately and unselfishly gave his life as a sacrifice to save the unreached. Someone is needed who will pick up and carry the torch forward. Will you be the one? Will you carry the gospel light to the unreached of Sierra Leone and beyond? They are waiting for you. Please contact us at recruiter@afmonline.org or 800.937.4236.

Editor’s notes: Marc Coleman is a former AFM missionary who pioneered among the Susu of Guinea with his family, the Cokers and Toorays. Marc is now the president of the Seventh-day Adventist church in the region of the Arabian Gulf.

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