Remembering Corban

It was a month ago today that I sat in a stuffy, heater-on-in-winter balcony in a church in New York to mourn the passing of someone I'd never met. Corban Abner Light, son of our dear friends Malcom and Cyndi, died at 22 weeks old.

While sitting on the couch with Malcolm that weekend, he said something that really stuck with me—“One of our greatest fears is that people will forget him.”

For those not involved in tragedy, it’s easy to forget that those directly affected may never truly ever stop grieving. And while our sympathy for them at the time is sincere and deep, it soon wanes as the regularity of life steps back in. But for those who have lost, life never really goes back to being normal.

And it’s especially easy to forget the unborn. We never met them; we never shook their hand or swung them around like a helicopter. We never celebrated a birthday, and we don't have pictures showing us together making funny faces. For most people, besides the mother, they almost never existed.

But Corban was real and loved and designed by God for His glory.

“I just want to be able to say something like, ‘I think Corban would have enjoyed being here’,” Malcolm said.

So here’s to Corban, and the many others like him who never got to breathe our air and rest in our arms. And the parents and family who still love them, even though they’re gone.

With his permission, I’m sharing Malcolm’s words that were read by one of his fellow pastors at Corban’s memorial service on February 2, 2008.

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I have always enjoyed naming things. For example, my first car was named Spud, because, well, it looked like a potato on wheels. The name fit the life my car led.

Names can tell us a lot about something. They can tell us about the usefulness of an object, the function something should perform, and the intent of what has been designed.

For Cyndi and I, the endeavor of choosing a name for our children rises to the level of being a sacred act – it is something that we will talk about very early during her pregnancies, and decide on shortly thereafter.

Another thing that is routinely done in naming our children is that I give “suggestions” of possible names so that Cyndi can feel like work is being done in checking potential names off the list. My suggestion this time was to name the baby Jackhammer Igloo, two things I think are great and go great together – scratch that one!

Benjamin, as his name means, is the son of my strength. Josiah, you will discover as you are around him, lives up to the meaning of his name too, which is Fire of the Lord.

The giving of names is a great honor and gift to someone, and to be called by our names is to give dignity and compassion to one another.

I believe God has designed this impartation of dignity and care into our very beings. God seems to take delight in giving and using names. In Isaiah, God calls to the nation of Israel to comfort them, and speaks intimately to them saying, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.” For the Jew, to call someone by name is to exert control over them, to own them. When God calls our names that means that God owns us, that we are not only subject to Him, but also intimately connected to Him – in a word, we are known. When God calls our name, all that we are can be discovered.

Names are important because they allow us to be known.

None of us here will know Corban the way that we would have wanted to. But I want to give you a glimpse of who my son is and allow you to get to know him by telling you about his name.

Like our other boys, Corban’s name was chosen very early in Cyndi’s pregnancy. And also like his brothers before him, Corban’s middle name came from someone that Cyndi and I held very dear to us. Corban’s middle name, Abner, which means father of light, is given in honor of Cyndi’s grandfather, a man we both love and respect greatly.

We had decided to call our son, if we had another son, Corban long before we knew what lay ahead of us.

All of my children’s names can be found in the Bible. Corban’s is found only once, in Mark 7:11.

If you look up the meaning of the name Corban you will see that it is an offering or gift given to God.

Corban is not a person, but a thing; an act of worship. A Corban was a specific type of offering among the Jews in which something was specially dedicated and set aside for God’s use alone – whatever was being offered, whatever was being declared Corban, was to only be used for God’s specific purposes.

In Leviticus 23:16, we see an example of a Corban offering, “Count off fifty days up to the day after the seventh Sabbath, and then present an offering of new grain to the LORD.” The offering that is being declared Corban is the grain that is being given to God’s purposes only.

Corban’s journey began nearly two years ago as Cyndi and I laid in bed one night and she asked what I thought about having another baby. I was surprised by the question, because anytime I had suggested another child in the past, I was reminded that my part was far more fun and exciting a role to play than the actual performance of game day that my Cyndi would have to participate in. We were content with our family and what we had been given.

But Cyndi had been recently attending a bible study on prayer, and as she was growing in praying more in her life, she began to sense that God was moving in her to give up some things from her life – namely to give up control of something in her life.

As we laid in bed talking that night, Cyndi began to tell me that she believed that one of the ways she could respond obediently to what she was sensing God was teaching her, was to give up some control over her own body.

When Cyndi frantically came into my office this past September handing me an envelope with a stick and a plus sign on it – Corban became a fitting first name for the offering of surrendered obedience Cyndi and I together gave to God. It was a name that would remind us how we got him, and whose he really was.

When we decided on this name we could not begin to imagine how fitting it would also be in our grief. There is little that Cyndi and I have been able to teach Corban, other than that the environment of safety and security he knew in Cyndi’s womb would have been duplicated to the best of our abilities when he entered into our world.

We have not gotten to know our son the way we would have wanted to, but now through the giving of his name, we have gotten to know and learn who he was for the time he was given to us. Through Corban, we have learned that despite our circumstances our God is faithful. We would never have chosen the path we are on, however, we have learned more fully that God’s grace given to us is indeed sufficient for our needs.

Corban has also taught Cyndi and I the value of family and friends, and community. You who are here have poured yourselves out for us. We have been given meals, comfort, prayers, and hugs – expressions of your love and care for my family that I cannot begin to convey thanks for.

Corban was our offering of submissive obedience to God. He has become our offering of praise.

Fear not Corban, for God has redeemed you; He has summoned you by your name Corban; and you are His.

Comments

[Howard]

Thanks Doug, Grandpa Howard

[Jennifer LaVere]

Thanks for sharing your story. I had a similar spiritual experience. I lost my daughter, Ava (5) a year ago Thursday. When I reflect on all I have lost, I can never quite loose the sense that she was a gift to me from God. Not a God who wants to see children ( or mothers and fathers) suffer. My sisters and I have felt the need to honor her life in her absence and have created a not for profit organization called Ava's Giving Tree. The mission of Ava's Giving Tree (www.avasgivingtree.org) is to study the causes of congenital heart disease and work towards finding ways it might be prevented. I found your web site today because baby names were on my mind. Corban has always been a favorite boys name to me:)