I got to be a part of the memorial service for my friend and mentor, Garland Owensby. This is pretty much what I said.
Originally I was going to talk about Owensby's career as a male model, but I think l'Il go in a different direction.
That was one of Owensby's go to jokes whenever he'd get up to preach. I heard that joke a lot. I heard all his jokes a lot over the years of traveling with him. The jokes about growing up getting called Garlic, the song parodies, the Elmo impression. My favorite jokes were the ones he would text me, usually after class or during chapel, the ones he thought of in the moment but knew he couldn't tell everyone else. That's when I knew he considered me more than just a student.
I know I should have been just another student. I wasn't even his student. My first semester I had Tiffani Owensby for a math class, and whenever I would start making too many jokes she'd always say "you need to meet my husband."
Even though I wasn't in any of his classes, he'd let me use up his office hours just so we could talk stand-up comedy. In college, he let me open for him on the road. After I graduated, we still performed together and hung out any time I was in town. When I lived in my van, I knew I always had a place to do laundry and get a home cooked meal when I was near Waxahachie.
He taught me everything. He taught me that being silly and goofy does not disqualify you from sharing the gospel. He taught me how to listen as an act of care. He taught me his philosophy of ministry. I remember one time hearing this poor little chubby little sweaty little red faced jr high boy desperately trying to have conversation with Owensby. It was at a camp, during rec games, and you could tell this kid thought it was the huge deal deal he was getting to talk to the camp speaker.
And this is kid was LYING about EVERYTHING. Nothing he was saying was true and it was immediately obvious. To the point where he was like "One time in ROTC we were all lined up doing jumping jacks and my instructor pulled the pin on a grenade and threw it at us. Everyone else ran away to save themselves because they thought it was real. I was the only one to jump on top of it, saving everyone and proving I was the bravest."
When the kid wasn't looking I leaned over to Owensby.
"That's a scene in the first Captain America movie.”
"I know," he said and went back to listening to him.
This poor kid wanted nothing more than for the camp speaker to talk to him and he thought he wasn't interesting enough on his own to warrant Garland's attention. He felt like he had to pretend to be someone he's not in order to earn Owensby's love. But Garland's whole philosophy of ministry was about proving that mindset wrong.
He didn't call it out, didn't humiliate him. He just gave the kid his full attention until he relaxed into the truth. It was so small and subtle, but the greatest act of kindness for that kid.
He had a whole bunch of sermons he could bring anytime he was asked to speak, but there was one that was the most important to him. It was like an identity message, the sermon that contained the nugget of hope and truth that motivated the way he did everything in ministry. Psalm 139, specifically verse 14: "I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well."
Fearfully and wonderfully made. That was at the heart of Garland. Treat everyone with the respect, dignity, and love that you would give to anyone that God himself would point to and say "this one here, this one is fearfully and wonderfully made.
It was like he was telling every student he interacted with: You don't need to be Captain America for me to care about you.
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.
