Roy

I have experienced many things in my 10 years as a pastor, but none as out of the ordinary as what happened the evening of March 11, 2009. It was to be a normal church business meeting, if there is such a thing. We needed to talk about the finances, select a nominations team for the upcoming Elder/Deacon selections, and briefly discuss a theological issue that we have been kicking around as a body for the past several years. What happened, however, was that in the middle of the theological discussion, after sharing his opinion, one of our long time members (a founding member in fact) collapsed and died of a heart attack.

Needless to say they never covered that one in Seminary.

Roy Corbett was 83. He was a man who I loved dearly and a man who loved me. This was despite the fact that on a few issues we could never see eye to eye. We made our peace with that about 8 years ago. We agreed that we both wanted to see Jesus lifted up in this church so that people could come to know Him. Where we disagreed was how the path to that would actually look.

From that time on, even though Roy and I loved and respected each other, business meetings were often the scene of some interesting discussions. Roy often said to me, "If you can't be open and honest with your church family then where can you be?" I agreed. Roy had the unusual gift of being honest about his disagreement with you and yet still loving you. It's a gift that I will miss.

As a pastor, I felt extremely emotional about the fact that Roy died as he did. There are always periods of second guessing - times of wondering what if? Regrets about things that could have been done differently, not just in the meeting, but in the past 10 years. Roy's family has made that easier to work through. In them I have seen the same love and respect that I always felt from Roy...although I must admit, they do it a bit more softly.

There are times that living in a broken world just gets to you. Watching Roy die and then walking with the family in their time of hopeful (dare I even say joyful) grief made it possible to see past the brokenness of our lives into the wholeness that comes through Jesus. I am still mentally trying to work through all that happened and I am sure that there will be more to write in the future. But for now I'll leave it with an article written by our local Member of Parliament, Chuck Strahl, a great man who I highly respect. And one who writes beautifully about his relationship with Roy.

Roy Corbett
By Chuck Strahl
March 25, 2009

You had to be there. Sure, it was a funeral and all, and who likes going to a funeral? But you should have been there at Roy Corbett's funeral, because a.) that would have meant you had known Roy in some capacity during the past 83 years, and b.) his funeral was a wonderful example of a celebration of life.

The church in Hope was packed, so plenty of people had known Roy, alright. He was the mayor of Hope back in the 60’s and 70’s, and remained an enthusiastic proponent of the town all of his life. Perhaps because he was a contemporary of my own dad (Same age, same logging background, same 'my-word-is-my-bond' ethics.) and because Dad spoke so fondly of all the Corbetts, all of us Strahls paid attention to him. He was also the first elected person I had ever met personally, and he was such a huge, outspoken character that a 'young fella' (His description of a wet-behind-the-ears but otherwise okay teenager.) like me wanted to be around him whenever possible.

Okay, to be honest, all of the Corbetts had, and still have, some of that in them. At the funeral, all five of the children took a turn at the pulpit to tell stories about their dad. Every one of them, in their own unique way, communicates a little bit like Roy himself. They knew they were well-loved by their dad, and it showed. Lots of laughter and self-deprecating humour, colourful anecdotes, usually with a teachable moment or principled position explained in a new way. And laughter. Lots of it.

If they had told stories non-stop for a week they would have only touched the surface of his colourful life. My own, first non-logging memories of Roy and his brother Vern were the duck-hunting trips we took with them as teenagers. The Strahl boys would flail the sky with buckshot- mostly ineffectively – while the Corbetts would chirp, "Two-bits, two-bits!" (The cost of a 1970 shotgun shell.) every time we blasted away. And then roar with laughter.

When Deb and I were married in 1975 we moved to Hope and Roy was the Mayor. It was Halloween, so Deb, my brother Stan, and I carved pumpkins and took them to his house, demanding that he use His Worship-like good judgment to pick a winner from the 3 'candidates'. He declared that mine was the 'loser', which wasn't what I had in mind. "You're supposed to pick the winner,” I protested. "Young fella", he replied good naturedly, "by picking the loser I made two people happy and only one unhappy. It's a lesson I learned in politics". Then he grinned that big grin of his and laughed.

Roy had a massive heart attack 25 years ago and it was touch and go whether he would recover. But he did and he continued as usual down the path of life, holding fast to his unshakeably strong opinions, and mixing in his usual jokes and laughter. Lots of hunting and fishing rounded things out and made the legendary stories even more legendary.

And it's impossible to talk about his life without talking about his church and his relationship with God. Roy and Betty devoted untold hours and dollars to their church and to children's camps, helping others enjoy the great outdoors and experience God's grace. Roy and the family were always involved in church, and two of the children are in full-time ministry work. It was an integral part of his life.

The day Roy died, the church had its business meeting, and of course Roy had an opinion on how they should conduct their business. His doctor had warned him to take it easy, to stay away from controversy, and avoid stressful situations. "I'm going to that meeting,” he told whoever would listen, "And I'm going to speak my mind if it's the last thing I do!" So he went to the meeting, took the floor, gave them all a ‘piece of his mind’, sat down, and within a minute or so, passed away. It really was the last thing he ever did!

If Roy could have told that story at his own funeral, he would have told it, I think, with quite a chuckle. Perhaps it was a fitting end. Speaking from his heart and faithful to his convictions, seated beside people he cared for in the church he loved.

He was a big man in so many ways – in all the right ways. He will be missed, especially by his wife Betty, but he will not be forgotten.

"Speaking from his heart and faithful to his convictions, seated beside people he cared for in the church he loved." I couldn't have said it better myself. For more on Roy's life read the Hope Standard article here.