"Don't be afraid. Only believe."

 

It must have been frustrating. When Jairus left his house his daughter was at the point of death. But instead of preparing for a funeral, he heard Jesus has just arrived in town. So he went to find Jesus with the hopes of bringing him back to the house in time to heal his daughter. But on the way, Jesus had an unexpected faith encounter with a woman who was desperately sick. Rather than speaking to Jesus, she pressed through the crowd and touched his garment, and was immediately healed. While Jesus carried on a conversation about this miracle, a messenger arrived to tell Jairus that his beloved 12-year-old daughter had just died, so he need not bother Jesus any further. When Jesus overheard that conversation, instead of expressing his condolences to the father he said, "Don't be afraid. Only believe" (Mark 5:21-43). 

We know the end of the story. Jesus went back to the house and raised the little girl from the dead. But his encouragement to Jairus before accompanying him showed the two responses open to the dad, and maybe even a combination of the two. In the end, it was about which response would end up controlling the moment. One response was faith. The other response was fear.

To be honest, fear is one of our greatest enemies. Fear is a natural response, due to our condition of attempting to live with "self" at the center. Fear is the root of so many other dysfunctions in our souls and lives. Fear is the root of anger. Fear is behind hatred, hostility, and violence. We fear powerlessness and the loss of control, so we compensate by attempting to control others, and even our own lives. We fear rejection. We fear inferiority, so we feel the need to identify people or groups that we claim are "inferior" and may even discriminate against them. Fear fuels pride and lust. Fear keeps us continually upset, looking for ways to counteract our state of anxiety. Fear weakens our will by releasing a response of fight, flight, or freeze. Ultimately, fear leads to depression, despair, hopelessness, relational failures, personal failures, and death. 

Fear is the opposite response of faith. Fear is anti-faith. Fear says, "I need to be in control of my life or this situation" while realizing it is impossible to do so. Faith says, "I am incapable of being in control of my life or this situation, so I trust Jesus to know what to do and to do the best thing for me and mine." 

Evidently, Timothy, the young protege of Paul, was timid and anxious by nature. Even so, Paul entrusted him with major apostolic assignments. Paul also knew the need to remind Timothy that "God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind" (2 Timothy 1:7). Paul was saying that the Spirit of God who is with us and in us has the power to enable us to do whatever needs to be done in life. It is the power of the Holy Spirit working within us that provides love and a sound mind. The Holy Spirit can cause true love to fill and overflow our lives. The Holy Spirit can teach us and give us God's thoughts and God's wisdom in our saved, whole minds. It is love that will drive out fear, and it is wisdom in a sound mind that will offset the overwhelming even paralyzing effects of fear.

I know how difficult it can be when a wave of anxiety washes over us. Living with a global pandemic has made life that much more challenging for those who tend to suffer from anxiety. Coming through a very hostile, divisive political season, being bombarded on every side with fear-provoking conspiracy theories has made it almost unbearable. That's when I think of Jairus and Jesus. It seemed hopeless. His daughter was dead. But with Jesus, nothing is ever hopeless. Nothing is impossible with God. Faith says, "God is always in control. Nothing ever happens that God is unaware of and is planning to redeem. In the end, I can trust God to always do the right thing. All is well and all will be well." Don't be afraid. Only believe. 

My Parents - A Tribute

 

My Mom, Norma Allen Asplund, is a missionary. She was born as the fifth out of nine children on a farm in Barnesville, Minnesota. She told me that her father, Harley Allen, a prominent farmer in the Red River Valley, didn't make a personal commitment to the Lord until she was a teenager. She remembers that from that time he never went anywhere without his Bible. He called her his "little missionary" because of her zeal for the Lord and for the Bible. In fact, she attended North Central Bible College in Minneapolis in the 1948/49 school year. And then, my Dad showed up, having hitchhiked from Bismarck, North Dakota to see his favorite cousin, Lala, who happened to be Mom's roommate. They met at church on Mother's Day, May 8, 1949. It must have been love at first sight, at least for Dad, but although he was "tall, dark, and handsome," Mom was not convinced. Dad had been a bit of a partier in his youth and not that committed to following the Lord. Dad proposed marriage fairly quickly, so, Mom fasted and prayed for three days to discern what the Lord wanted her to do. She became convinced that her mission was to join her life to Dad's and partner together in ministry, being faithful to go wherever the Lord might lead them. She laid down the law to Dad, and he is quick to testify that he quit partying and all the behaviors that went with it in one day. ("I was never a happy sinner.") Mom literally became his spiritual mentor, and they were married on October 21, 1949. Dad and the four sons that were to come all benefited from Mom's mission.



My Dad, Ken Asplund, is a tender-hearted people person. You might that a bit strange for someone who grew up on a farm in rural North Dakota. Dad seems to have loved farming and has told how he was sent to school to learn how to repair the farming machinery. Even then, he had a soft heart for the farm animals and loved his extended family, even now missing the times siblings and cousins gathered for an evening of fellowship. My Dad simply loves everyone and wants to be everyone's friend, and the feeling is usually reciprocated. He has always provided the clearest example of a "shepherd's heart" I have known. The most difficult part of last year's COVID lockdown was no longer having personal access to the inmates at the St. Johns County Jail. He served as the volunteer County Jail Chaplain for 30 years. He truly loved the inmates and found the hours he spent with them to be personally encouraging and energizing. It's been hard to see him no longer have a context for his big shepherd's heart outside of Mom and me. I'm so grateful for the example Dad has always been for me. When I was very young as a pastor I remember realizing that I was a task-oriented introvert and did not have good people skills. I asked Dad to mentor me in that area, and while I will never be the shepherd he is, I think it helped. Thank you, Dad.



My Mom, Norma Allen Asplund, is a teacher. She just can't help herself. If you have a problem, issue, or question, she will provide you an excellent lesson to be learned. Every moment in life is a "teachable moment." She has shared that it was her Aunt Hazel Allen in Barnesville, Minnesota, that imparted a deep love for learning and specifically, for the Bible. Evidently, Aunt Hazel would pick up some of the Allen kids for Bible study and was a very effective communicator of lessons from Scripture. Growing up with my three younger brothers I clearly remember Mom leading us in family devotions, Bible study, and Scripture memorization every evening after dinner. Our favorite topic of discussion was "heaven." Mom taught me how to read when I was four years old, using weekly copies of the Pentecostal Evangel. She imparted a love of reading, of learning new things, and especially of the Bible, to me. Even since moving to St. Augustine, I have had people tell me that a class Mom taught, often a Marriage and Family Class made a huge impact on their lives. Mom also has a public speaking gift. She doesn't know a stranger and speaking before a crowd seems to energize her. She is an excellent communicator in every way. I owe so much of my own gift and passion to her. Thank you, Mom.



My Dad, Ken Asplund, is a business and community leader. Even though he grew up on a farm in rural North Dakota and was trained to be a farmer, when he and Mom ventured forth outside of their family communities, Dad immediately began to excel in business, quickly moving into management positions. The year before he began to engage in vocational pastoral ministry (1972), he was the #2 salesman in the insurance company he was working for with a very bright future. In fact, business and sales are his only formal training, but it has always proven to be beneficial in ministry wherever he has gone. When Dad and Mom moved to St. Augustine in 1986, Dad soon began to reach out to community leaders, looking for a way to serve them, including local pastors. While he would never think of it in those terms, Dad had an "apostolic" assignment in St. Augustine. His "Living Waters Ministries" and "Marketplace Ministries" resulted in important areas of ministry and influence. It was not uncommon for a community leader to state that Dad was their "mentor," a statement that always surprised him. Dad was also instrumental in organizing volunteer services at both the local hospital and the county jail. Dad has a gift for administration. Mom says he has a "gift for numbers." He is a very effective money manager. Even though the details have become a bit frustrating, even now Dad is working every day on his finances and taxes, making sure that "all of his affairs are in order." He provides an amazing legacy, both for the community and his family.


My Mom, Norma Allen Asplund, is a singer and musician. She has long been known as an organist, last playing for Trinity Chapel (now Destiny Church) here in St. Augustine. The organ she bought in 1966 is still in her living room. In her youth, she also played the accordion and even a ukelele. (Her mother, Grandma Amy Allen, and her sisters Monafae and Janice all played the piano). I love the story of Mom singing in an award-winning trio with her sister Janice and her cousin LoRaine who sang on a local radio station. (Aunt Janice is still with us, Cousin LoRaine recently graduated to Glory.) With all that music in her life, it's no wonder that all four of her sons had some amount of musical talent. (Dad also used to sing and play the guitar, and my brother Reggie and son James both married gifted musicians. James' three sons are also gifted musicians.) Even now, Mom would rather listen to excellent worship music more than anything. When the three of us gather in the evening, it's not uncommon for us to break out into an old song with the wonderful memories that go with each one. Even though it may now be a "joyful sound," it comes from hearts of thankfulness to the Lord for a long life of goodness and blessing.



My Dad, Ken Asplund, is an evangelist and a church planter. Recently I heard the story that, as newlyweds, the folks lived for a short time in Brookings, South Dakota. While there, the pastor of the small church they attended, saw the potential in Dad and made him the (volunteer) youth pastor. My clearest memories are during the years we lived in White Bear Lake, Minnesota (1962-69). While there, Dad got very involved in the Men's Fellowship Department of the Assemblies of God and began to travel to churches in the area, conducting personal evangelism training. Dad's formal training in business and sales made him an ideal evangelist with a passion to equip others with the skills needed to effectively communicate the Gospel. We moved to Springfield, Missouri in 1969, and during the summer of 1970, Dad was given the oversight of a downtown youth ministry called the New Wine Coffeehouse. Mom and Dad fell in love with the young people who showed up, and before long, there was a large number of new Jesus People needing to be discipled and cared for. While Dad established a "Boys House" and a "Girls House," something more concrete needed to be done, so in the summer of 1973, Dad pioneered a local church. It quickly grew, resulting in the need for more space. So, in 1979, Dad purchased property and built a fairly large "sheep shed" (as he called it) for the many growing families making up the young congregation. In fact, there were so many children being added to the church family, Dad decided to establish a Christian school, New Covenant Academy, which is still flourishing in Springfield. In 1986, Dad and Mom felt the Lord was calling them southeast, so they moved to St. Augustine, Florida. While the various ministries pioneered by Dad during the ensuing years all reflected his shepherd's heart and his passion for the Gospel, I think his 30-year chaplaincy in the St. Johns County jail may most clearly reflect his commitment to the Gospel and his love for "the least of these." During these years, Dad has literally led thousands of inmates to the Lord, 900+ in 2019 alone. Even now, Dad gets letters from former inmates, thanking him for his love and faithfulness. Some are even now serving as pastors in their local community. Much fruit, fruit that will remain for eternity.



My Mom, Norma Allen Asplund, is a prophetic intercessor. In fact, she has a "prophetic temperament," seeing all of life as either clearly white (light) or black (dark), and she is passionate about both. When I was 17, I remember coming into the house late at night, and instead of being confronted by my parents, I heard my Mom weeping and interceding for me in her room. She literally prayed me into the Kingdom. Mom's favorite memories of ministry here in St. Augustine involve a variety of prayer events, including times of prayer in her living room. One evening last year, something happened to Dad and he didn't have the strength to stand up and was completely disoriented. All he could say was, "Lord, there are so many hurting people who need you," over and over again. But Mom would have none of it. She laid her hands on Dad and began to pray, calling on the Lord with great faith and passion. It wasn't long before Dad was back to normal. Even now, in the last chapter of her life, she views her primary purpose and focus is prayer and intercession. She is especially committed to giving herself to prayer for her family, her sons, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. She is committed to the prospect of every member of the family someday joining her and the Lord in heaven. And she is not going to take "No" for an answer.

My Dad, Ken Asplund, has a natural, almost childlike (not childish) faith and relationship with God. Even though he did a bit of partying as a teenager (it seems to me he could only get into so much trouble in rural North Dakota in the '40s), he was never "a happy sinner." In fact, he grew up in a very godly extended family and was simply waiting for someone to disciple him. When he met Mom he knew he had found his "mentor," and very quickly began to follow the Lord with all his heart. I love the picture of him praying with Mom as newlyweds. His faith and trust in God seem unwavering, no matter what the circumstance. Dad prays as easily as he breathes and talks about his faith in God with the same ease. Dad's ministry and influence in St. Augustine always began by him offering to meet a community leader every week for prayer. I hear stories about Dad praying weekly with the sheriff, the superintendent of schools, local pastors, the mayor, judges, and others. Since moving to St. Augustine, I quickly discovered that it is not possible to spend any time with the folks without having a time of prayer together, always initiated and led by Dad. On the first evening I spent with them I thought it was time for me to leave, so I just stood up and excused myself. Dad immediately began to pray and I realized separating for the night without a meaningful time of prayer would not work for him. When driving in the car together it's not uncommon to hear Dad verbalize his trust and gratitude to God. I have a great appreciation for Dad's very natural spirituality, filled with love and guarded by peace, an important example to his family, friends, and community.

My parents, Ken and Norma Asplund are faithful servants of the Lord. In my experience (and I've known them all my life), every time the Lord opens a door for them, they simply walk through it, asking very few questions along the way. The first amazing example of that was when Dad made the decision to leave a very successful career to serve the harvest of young believers in Springfield, Missouri, with no visible means of support. The President of his company thought he had lost his mind, but the wonderful fruit that came of that faith decision - New Wine Coffeehouse, Word of God Tabernacle, New Covenant Academy - showed it to be a life-changing choice to faithfully obey the Lord. And then, in 1986, Mom and Dad received a prophetic word saying that God was going to "thrust [them] into a dry, thirsty, parched land in the Southeast" with the promise, "I'm going to send revival." So they sold their home in Springfield, renting an apartment in Orchard Park (Jacksonville) to discern God's specific direction. Dad loves to say how when they drove over the Bridge of Lions for the first time, they knew very clearly that God was sending them to St. Augustine. And they have spent the last 35 years doing everything they could to serve and bless the city. every door of opportunity that opened before them, they faithfully went through them, bearing an abundance of fruit along the way, fruit that will remain. Mom and Dad have been partners every step of the way, combining their gifts together to the very best effect. Even now in their latter days, they spend every day beseeching the Lord to send revival to St. Augustine, to the city, the churches, and especially, to the young people.



I have been reflecting on the long life and ministry of my Dad in light of the Parable of the Talents (Matthew 25:14-30). You may remember that three servants were given responsibility for a portion of the master's household, in the parable spoken of as 5, 2, and 1 "talent" (essentially a bag of gold). When the one with the 5 bags and the one with 2 bags returned, having doubled the master's investment in their lives, they were commended and rewarded. I can see that my Dad began his journey with far less than one bag. Mom has told me how Dad tried twice to graduate from High School in Bismarck and was not able to do so either time, making him feel like a loser. However, the partnership with Mom released Dad's true potential. Everywhere they went local pastors saw Dad's leadership ability. Now, as he is about to turn 92, a long line of very significant contributions, from Minnesota to Missouri to Florida, has followed Dad. He started with less than one bag and has ended with at least 10 bags. The one who turned 5 into 10 and the one who turned 2 into 4 bags were welcomed with, "Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of your master." I wonder what Dad will hear on that day.



When reviewing my Dad's library I found an entire shelf of notebooks containing his old sermon notes. During the '70s and early '80s, when planting a great congregation in Springfield, Missouri, Dad had to preach almost every Sunday. Dad would be the first to admit that he did not have a gift for public speaking (that was Mom's gift), but he labored diligently and thoughtfully every week to feed his young flock the very best spiritual food. Dick Iverson preaching through the old Bible Temple Tapes was Dad's primary source and served as a personal Bible college for his training as a pastor and preacher. I was amazed once again to see the careful detail, the marginal notes, and the extensive multi-colored underlining that went into every message. As with all Dad did, he was conscientious, hard-working, and faithful as a shepherd to his Springfield flock.



I have finally completed the entire process of sifting, sorting, and shifting 60+ years of accumulated memories at my parents' house here in St. Augustine. Yesterday, in preparation for an estate sale and the sale of the house, we piled the final stack of large garbage bags at the curb to be picked up today (not representing the huge amount of items donated to a variety of services in the area). When I came by later a next-door neighbor asked me if I knew there were photographs in one of the bags. I answered that I had gone through thousands of photos and scanned all the most important ones. Her concern was that the local historical society would want many of the photos because my parents had made such a very significant impact on the community and could she give them all they wanted. I said she could and that if the historical society wanted digital copies, I could provide them as well. Even when putting out the trash I have encountered the historical significance of the 34 years my parents, Ken and Norma Asplund spent serving the community of St. Augustine, Florida.




One of the first events Dad participated in after moving to St. Augustine was Washington for Jesus 1988, followed by St. Augustine For Jesus. In his enthusiasm for his new home, Dad paid for a large sign on US Highway 1. Even though the office building connected to the sign has been turned into a parking lot, the sign, known by the locals as "The Big Purple Sign," still stands.



Our family lived in White Bear Lake, Minnesota from 1962-69, where I graduated from high school. It was also a time of growing ministry and leadership for my Dad. He was only in his 30s when he began traveling from church to church teaching personal evangelism seminars for the Assemblies of God. Yesterday I found in the last box of photographs to be scanned pictures of one of those seminars. What a joy to see this old record of the time and place that prepared Dad for very fruitful ministry in Springfield, Missouri (1969-87) and St. Augustine, Florida (1987-2021).



During Dad's final weeks I often heard him remark that he didn't think he had really accomplished that much and he was surprised at the number of people who expressed appreciation for him and his life. I realized that Dad had never really thought about himself that much as he simply sought to serve the Lord in whatever way seemed helpful at the time. He didn't attach his ego to his work. He was just a faithful, obedient servant. For that reason, he was able to make a positive contribution to almost any context he found himself in. If the Lord seemed to be opening a door in front of him, he just went through, worked hard, and left the results and the glory to Christ alone. A valuable lesson indeed!



One of my mother’s favorite sayings was, “God’s timing is always precise,” usually in the context of our timing proving to be less so. In fact, during the time my brother Reggie and I worked together to care for our folks, our saying became, “We waited too long.” It started in January when mom injured her neck and began seeking medical solutions. Dad often said, “Just when I was hoping to begin enjoying my retirement.” Pointing out that most people don’t wait until the age of 91 to begin enjoying their retirement did not encourage dad. “We waited too long.” Soon, mom announced that it was time to sell their home and move into an independent/assisted living apartment. We began making immediate arrangements, then mom fell at home, seriously injuring herself. She went from the hospital to short-term and then to long-term skilled nursing care, and it was quickly apparent that a senior community would not be possible. “We waited too long.” Then dad became very sick and had to have emergency surgery. He went from the hospital to short-term nursing care. Our thought was that it might be possible for dad to be transferred to the facility where mom was, and they could share a room together. However, on the day dad was transferred, mom began to “actively die” and never regained consciousness. “We waited too long.” After mom’s service, we planned to move dad to a very nice assisted living apartment in Chattanooga where my brother worked. He set up a very nice apartment for dad with all new furnishings, surrounding him with all his favorite things. Every effort was made to carve out a pleasant, happy life for the remainder of dad’s days. However, it was quickly apparent that dad would never be happy without his wife of 72 years by his side, and one night in August he simply slipped away in his sleep. “We waited too long.” During all this time I often asked the Lord about it, making some planning suggestions of my own. The only thing I ever heard was, “Stand still and see,” or “wait quietly,” neither of which come naturally to me. I am a hyper, compulsive planner, running scenarios and practicing speeches in my sleep. We are now clear about the fact that, while we may have been consistently late, the Lord was never late. God’s timing is always precise. Our Father knew exactly when to call mom home, and the Lord knew to call dad shortly thereafter. And so, we are left with the same lesson. Stand still and see. Wait quietly. It does no good to thrash around as if we are in control. Rest. All shall be well in the end. All manner of things shall be well.



When we celebrated my mother's 90th birthday in 2019, she had an opportunity to communicate her thanks and appreciation to many. When she got home, she was stricken with a feeling that she had not given enough glory to the Lord. She literally could not sleep that night, feeling that God alone deserved the highest praise. She was passionately committed to Jesus and to the Good News about Jesus. With that in mind, I want to be clear that every step of my journey has been pure grace. When my Lynda went home to be with the Lord she told me, "You will be moving back to Portland." And so, I immediately began to make plans to do so. But before I moved, I realized, with the help of my dear cousin, that I had 89-year-old parents in St. Augustine, Florida, that might want to spend time together while they could. And so, I moved to St. Augustine with a clear sense of commission, to spend the final months of my parents' lives with them. Please understand. I am a fundamentally selfish person. I really wanted to just move back home to Portland and get on with my life. But the Lord had other plans. Every step of the way has been grace. God's mercy and goodness, God's kindness, and wisdom, made it possible to spend these months together. All glory and honor belong to the Lord alone. And now, by God's grace, I will be moving back to Portland, my Home on the way HOME. I am so very thankful to the Lord for the past 30 months and will always carry with me many wonderful memories of my time here with Mom and Dad, as well as our Florida Asplund family members and their many wonderful friends. That brings to mind Mom's favorite song, the one song she asked to be sung at her funeral. It expresses my sentiments as well. I will miss St. Augustine and I will always miss my beloved parents, until that Day.



The memory that sticks most clearly in my mind concerning Dad's Celebration of Life was the repeated theme that for St. Augustine, Dad was like Elijah, preparing the way for the Lord. Several community leaders expressed the idea that now that Dad had been taken up into heaven, his mantle had fallen to the ground. The question now is: Who will take up the mantle? Dr. Joyner (former St. Johns Country School District Superintendent and Flagler College President) said he had not been able to sleep the night before the service because Dad kept calling him on the phone to ask, "Who is going to take up the mantle?" Pastor Tinsley and Dad's former Assistant Chaplain Chuck Ponce expressed similar concerns. Who is going to take up the mantle? Will it be an individual leader taking up the entire mantle? Will it be several leaders taking up pieces of the mantle? Will it be a team of leaders working together to take up the entire mantle? I'm excited to see what the Lord will be doing in the very special community of St. Augustine in the coming months and years and to see what becomes of Dad's mantle.