OWEN’S LEGACY AND THE PROBLEM OF GRIEF

A Requiem Sermon on the First Anniversary of His Falling Asleep in Christ

By Bp. Joseph Boyd (Ancient Church of the West) 

“Jesus wept.” - St. John 11:35

“For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with Him.” 

- 1 Thessalonians 4:14

Humans are mortal. We are fragile. We suffer, we err, and we are not all-powerful. We cannot stop the ticking of time, nor undo what has been done. And so, when death comes close… when it touches our homes and lays its hand upon our sons… something deep in us cries out: This is not how things were meant to be!

If we were merely the products of blind evolution (if “red in tooth and claw” is all there ever was), then perhaps we should not grieve. Perhaps we should accept death with apathy as a natural and necessary end. But our grief tells a different story. As C.S. Lewis once said, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.” We know that death is significant and that we do not accept it, because it is at odds with our human nature. Either our nature is deceiving us, or we were created by an immortal and loving God for other things! 

I have agonized with questions every morning, when I wake up at 3 AM, over and over. “Why would God let this happen?” Does He hate me? Did I commit a sin for which He judged my son? Did I believe wrongly? Is this the consequence of divine judgment? 

The questions become too great to bear, and the answers often hide themselves in mystery. We know that God is love (1 John 4:8). We know that He is not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance (2 Peter 3:9). We know that the goodness of God leads us to repentance (Romans 2:4), and that His mercy is from everlasting to everlasting upon them that fear Him (Psalm 103:17). And we also know, as the Prophet Ezekiel declared, that “the son shall not bear the iniquity of the father, neither shall the father bear the iniquity of the son” (Ezekiel 18:20). Though I am a sinner, and though I have many faults, God did not allow Owen to suffer judgment for my failings. The justice and mercy of God are both perfect, and each soul shall answer for its own deeds. I will have to account for my own sins when I stand before the judgment seat of Christ (2 Corinthians 5:10), but I trust that Owen, who sought to love God with a sincere heart, stands now in the grace and light of the Savior’s embrace.

I grieve not only because we have lost, but because I know that love is stronger than death (Song of Solomon 8:6). I know, in my very bones, that Owen’s life meant something, that it means something still, and that death, though real, cannot sever the bonds we have, as father and son, as brothers in Christ. The Church Fathers teach us this too. St. John Chrysostom wrote: “They are not dead who live in the Lord. For what is death? Nothing but a passage. A sleep. A departing for a while, until the Resurrection.”

This is the Christian hope: that Christ has trampled down death by death, and that our beloved dead are not lost, but gone ahead before us. St. Paul writes, “We sorrow not as those who have no hope” (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Why? Because the grave could not hold Jesus, and it will not hold Owen. Owen will return in Christ to rule and reign forever. 

Owen’s death has pierced our hearts. Not only because we lost a son, a brother, a friend, and a confidant; but because his passing calls us to account. It asks us where we are going. What are we building? What are we living for?

Owen loved the Lord. He took his faith seriously, not as an abstract theory or a hobby, but as the cornerstone of his life. He didn’t get lost in theological intricacies or speculative debates. His faith was simple, sincere, and strong. He sought to obey the truth as he knew it, and to walk in the light he had. That is no small thing. In fact, it is everything.

Owen wasn’t perfect: no saint of the Lord ever is. He fought with his siblings from time to time, and sometimes he joked too roughly. But he always returned to love. He always sought reconciliation. He was never ashamed of Christ. He wore his cross outwardly. He spoke the truth even when it was unpopular, warning his friends against drinking, promiscuity, pornography, and the false freedom the world offers. He wasn’t judging. He was pleading. All of his bros knew that he really cared for them. 

I remember him always asking, “What do we believe, Dad?” And when he asked, it wasn’t passive curiosity. It was resolve. He wanted to know the right thing so he could do it. He wanted his life to be aligned with the will of God. He was goofy 15-year-old boy, with all the distractions and foibles that this entails… the mewing, the flexing, the constant zoomer terminology… but he was deadly serious about his calling and desire to follow the Lord. 

Owen left no theological treatises, but he left us icons, sketches, and paintings. These are small windows into the heart of a young man who loved beauty and truth. He loved people deeply and was known for his gentleness, even when others mistreated him. He gave kindness when insulted, and lifted up others even when they tried to push him down. Owen’s gentleness and smiles in the face of others’ rejection and anger speaks more to me than anything else in his testimony. He was miraculously humble for one so young and untried. 

Owen spoke often of the Church in his daily conversation. He had ideas for reels, videos, icons, sermons. He was full of energy and light, and he offered all of it back to God. He admired preachers like Mar Mari Emmanuel and wanted me to preach in terms Orthobros could understand and resonate with. He dreamed big, but walked humbly. He joked that I needed to include terms like “Skibbidi” and “Rizz” so that young men would know what I was talking about in sermons. 

This is why we are at peace: not because we are free from grief, but because our grief is touched by grace. We know that Owen was sincere. We know where he wanted to go. We know the nature of the Lord who has received him. As St. Cyprian wrote, “Let us not mourn our beloved departed, but rather rejoice that they are delivered from this world’s trials and temptations and are at peace in Christ.”

We do know where Owen is. He is with Jesus Christ, the Creator of all, the Lover of mankind, the One who conquered death and calls us home. Owen stands now among the saints and angels, beholding the throne of glory, waiting for the day when Christ shall return to raise the dead and make all things new.

And when that Day comes, he will return with Christ, to reign with Him forever. As St. Irenaeus once said, “The glory of God is man fully alive.” Owen is more alive now than ever before, for he is hidden with Christ in God. Owen will return. We will see him again, no matter how hard it hurts now.

Let us follow his example. Let us live not for passing things, but for the Kingdom that endures. Let us prepare to meet Christ in a day, a month, a year, or in tens of years… it is all the same. Time passes quickly and, as Owen’s grandpa used to say, “the death rate is one a piece.” Let us prepare to meet Owen, our son, our brother, our friend, our confidant, our partner in the ministry - in that place where every tear is wiped away, and where true love never ends.

COLLECT

O Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who in Thy tender love didst receive the soul of Thy servant Owen Luke Laiyin Boyd into the peace of Christ’s heavenly kingdom: Grant us grace so to walk in faith and holiness, that we may with him behold Thy glory in the face of Jesus Christ, and share in the resurrection of the just at the last day; through the same Thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with Thee and the Holy Ghost, ever one God, world without end. Amen.

May the Soul of Owen Luke Laiyin Boyd Rest in Peace, May He Return with Christ in the Resurrection of the Dead to Rule and Reign with Him Forever, and May His Memory Be Eternal!