They help the needy - then the challenging times hit home, literally

Jon Owen, 48, the CEO of Sydney’s Wayside Chapel, and his pastor wife, Lisa, 53, sealed their relationship with a plastic ring from a 40-cent machine. The pair help some of society’s neediest while facing their own family challenges.

Lisa and Jon Owen. “I was calling him every day on the phone ‘for work’,” Lisa says of their initial friendship. “Then I thought, ‘I’ll see what happens if I stop …’ ”Credit: Wolter Peeters

Lisa: We met in Melbourne in 1997. I was working with a Christian outreach organisation and Jon came to help. He was finishing his fourth year of computer science and electrical engineering. I remembered him because he was late, and very handsome. But I was 26 and he was 21. I thought, “It’s a shame he’s so young.”

He ended up joining our team. We found excuses to do things together – taking the kids we cared for to the zoo, or swimming. At one stage, I got hit by a car and landed face first on the road. I was supposed to be going to a birthday party that night, and Jon came over to my place with a pair of fluffy, bright-green pants and said, “If you wear these, no one will notice your face.” We ended up ordering pizza and stayed home watching movies.

By then I was calling him every day on the phone “for work”. Then I thought, “I’ll see what happens if I stop.” Two days later, he turned up at my door, and said, “What’s going on?”

‘Jon has taught me a lot, like not to sweat the small stuff, and he can admit when he’s wrong.’

Lisa Owen

I asked whether I should keep calling, and he said, “Yes, keep calling,” and ran off. Shortly after that, we started dating. He proposed 16 months later. We were on the beach at St Kilda and he brought out a plastic, yellow, smiley-face ring from a 40-cent machine in Springvale. He said, “I paid five times what this ring is worth because I had to get four superballs first.”

Our work is stressful. We embed ourselves in disadvantaged and troubled communities. But the biggest stress we’ve had has been the mental-health struggles of one of our own children [the couple have three children, two biological and one adopted, aged between 20 and 30]. They’ve been in and out of hospital, and there’s been a lot of confrontational behaviour.

Lisa and Jon wed in 2001.

Because of the chaos we were living in, it took us too long to realise something was wrong, which we feel remorse about and have apologised for. It was also difficult in that Jon and I differed in how to deal with them. I was inclined to go softly, softly, but Jon would say, “That’s not acceptable.” We eventually went to see a couples’ therapist who helped us navigate parenting so we could be aligned. We knew that unless we were more intentional about our relationship, we wouldn’t go the distance.

Jon has taught me a lot, like not to sweat the small stuff, and he can admit when he’s wrong. He’s also perfected the art of asking me questions so I can explain myself to myself. Recently, we moved house and I was feeling overwhelmed. Jon said, “You have a massage; I’ll cook dinner.” I came back and began complaining about which pot he’d used and that he’d cooked with too much butter. I was totally ungracious. He just sat there, then said, “Let’s go for a walk.” We went for a walk and he asked me, “Are you OK? Because the way you reacted now isn’t like you.”

His approach is always to ask: “What would Love do in this situation – right here and now?” He asks himself that at work, or when I’m cranky about him using the wrong pot. He’s an incredible man. I’m so grateful to have found him.

The Owens with their children (from left) K, Jazmin and Zyx in 2014.

Jon: I met Lisa in 1997, when I did a two-week live-in course she was leading at a Christian outreach organisation. She was cranky because I showed up late. But I ended up joining and she became my manager. We got along well, but I wasn’t thinking anything romantic. Then, one day, her best friend headed overseas. I asked, “Who are you going to hang out with for the next three months?” and she said, “You.”

I was nervous about asking her out because I’d only had relationships that lasted a few weeks. But one day we met at Acland St Cake Shop [in Melbourne’s St Kilda] and she got a special pastry with custard and fruit and a glaze on top; that’s when we started dating.

She was living in a tiny flat with three women and two toddlers who’d escaped domestic violence. She also cared for another three kids whose parents were heroin addicts. The kids were only fed fried flour and white bread, so their bellies were distended from constipation, and they were riddled with nits. Lisa would de-louse them, feed them and massage their stomachs until they went to the toilet. I thought, “You’re the living epitome of compassion.”

But I was so immature. At one stage we went to San Francisco to check out a similar mission, and we were sleeping out in Golden Gate Park. The idea was to beg for food, but I snuck in some money and while everyone was starving, I bought a cigar. She said, “Stop acting like the annoying little brother I never had!”

‘When it comes to the big things, we’re totally aligned. Every major decision we’ve made in life has taken five seconds.’

Jon Owen

After we married in 2000, we were looking for a place to honeymoon. I had my heart set on a beach in Fiji, but she said, “That’s not going to happen. This isn’t boy meets girl, they fall in love and sail into the sunset. This is about two people who are passionate about making a difference.” So instead we volunteered at the Mother Teresa Centre in Kolkata, India.

We’re polar opposites in some ways because of the cultural differences. She has a dogged commitment to being punctual, while I work on “brown time”, when it’s OK to arrive anywhere between one to one-and-a-half hours on either side of when you’re invited. She has also set bedtimes for the kids, whereas I grew up falling asleep on the couch whenever.

But when it comes to the big things, we’re totally aligned. Every major decision we’ve made in life has taken five seconds. Once, we had a 16-year-old girl living next door whose mum had died. Lisa said, “I want to adopt her.” And it was “Yep” – a one-minute conversation.

Lisa models unconditional love. When I was young, I was loved if I shined and sparkled. But Lisa was the first one who taught me I was loved as I am, not as I should be. And she always shows up. When our child started to struggle, I cried one night, “Why us?” She looked at me without hesitating and said, “Who better than us?”

She has been my anchor. Every night I fall asleep with my head in her lap, and that’s my safe space.

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