He cared. He cared about the outcasts, weirdos, and those pushed to the margins.
He cared about the underdogs, including women in ministry. He would often say that women in ministry has been, in the past, one of the best kept secrets of the Assemblies of God. "We'll credential them but we won't make them pastors." So he designed a shirt to sell around campus that said "A Woman's Place in the Pulpit."
He cared about victims. Every time there was a new scandal with some masters commission, school of leadership, or chi alpha, we would end up sitting together, reading victims' stories, and treating them with the same respect and seriousness that we would want our own stories to be treated with.
And his care made a lasting impact. At the memorial service I met one of Garland's former students from when he was a youth pastor. He had tears in his eyes when he told me that this youth pastor he met when he was 17 is the reason he's in ministry today.
It's also been cool to see former students who today probably don't want anything to do with the church, and yet when they heard the news they still had stories they wanted to share about Owensby's lovingkindness. His care was genuine.
He wanted us to know we are fearfully and wonderfully made, even when it doesn't feel true, doesn't make sense, even when the rest of the world might make us feel worthless, your value comes from our God and Father who says "you are not a mistake."
Another sermon I heard from him a lot was about the importance of bearing each others burdens. He ended with the same story every time. It was about walking into the first class he had to teach after hearing the news that his mom had passed away. He didn't want to be there. He didn't want to teach. He didn't feel like being the one with all the answers, having to pretend like he had it all together, while his heart was still breaking. At the start of every class, the professor is supposed to ask for prayer requests and lead everyone else in prayer. Instead, he let them in on what was going on, revealing the burden he was carrying.
"Can we pray for you?" The whole class got up, surrounded Owensby, put their hands on him, and prayed. I think they stayed like that for a while, not rushing past that moment of care.
I heard him tell this story at least a dozen times and not once could he get to the end of without crying. He got emotional every time.
I think it was one of the most meaningful moments during his time as a professor. The students he cared about cared for him.
It didn't matter if he was having a terrible day and couldn't be "on" all the time, it didn't matter if he didn't feel like he deserved it, those students saw Garland as fearfully and wonderfully made, emotions and all, and they jumped at the opportunity to bear his burden with him.
When my dad died, Garland was the first person I texted.
The day of my dad's funeral I was shocked when Garland walk in. He drove four hours there and four hours home just to hug me.
I cannot tell the story of my life without him. If you asked me why I do what I do, how I got where I am, why I care about the things I care about, or talk the way I talk about Christianity, he is pivotal in all those things. To tell those stories without him would be the most dishonest telling. He changed my life.
I miss my friend. And at the same time it has been beautiful to have so many kind and thoughtful friends reach out to check if I was ok, friends who want to help bear this burden, friends I met through SAGU, friends who I know…I know they learned how to do what they're doing from Owensby. Because I recognize him in their care.
