I first met Betty Young in her home. At that time, my wife-to-be worked for Malaysian Care which was lead by Betty’s husband, Revd. Peter Young. My wife and I visited to ask Revd. Young whether he would consent to officiating at our wedding.

After greeting us, Betty asked if we would like tea and some of her home-made shortbread. Although that visit is now more than twenty years past, I distinctly remember the impish look on Revd. Young’s face as he smiled broadly and said “highly recommended,” and winked to indicate that if we said yes, he could have some too.

It was great shortbread and great conversation – the type where there is both humour and a total lack of superficiality. I had the sense of being in the company of people who understood where they belonged in the cosmos, people who had a clear sense of the purpose of life and strived to live according to the light they had.

I had met Revd. Young before that meeting. More exactly, I had once heard him preach at St Paul’s church in Petaling Jaya. It was a powerful sermon, with his signature body gyrations and hand movements. His text was from the gospel of John: “He [Jesus] was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him.” Revd. Young stressed that the darkness will not overcome the light. This was a prophetic word of encouragement in the time of Operation Lalang and Bapa Malaysia’s establishment of UMNO Baru. From my notes, I produced a one page article and sent it to Revd. Young for revision. He changed two words, and agreed to have it published.

I don’t recall whether it was during the first meeting with Betty or at a later meeting, also at her home after my wedding that I heard Betty tell the story of how a total stranger at the local market asked her for some money “for food.” Betty invited him to come and stay at their home. There were also stories of car breakdowns, stories of children’s questions and the suffering of the marginalized, stories of the providence of God. Betty told the stories with a simple grace and reverence: stories of people, of God, of convictions, of mystery.

Betty encouraged us with quiet stories of a life entrusted to God, a Spirit longing to glorify Jesus, a soul who asked engaging questions and refused to provide pat answers. In her later days she was a writer. I have not read her books, but my wife has and I know she has been awed and inspired.

Someone wrote of Pope John Paul 23rd that “he was brave enough to die in front of our eyes and not to hide his illness behind some screen of secrecy.” Similarly, Betty had been ill for some time, and we knew she chose not to undergo some of the available, aggressive treatments: because these would interrupt her life and disrupt her ability to fulfill the writing task which she sensed God had assigned her. We are grateful.

Betty was a Christian. In death she has taught us another lesson. We too shall die. But we shall not fear death or “fight it with every available means.”

For a Christian, death is not an exit into nothingness or into judgment. Death, though it involves saying farewell to the privilege of caring for others – especially of beloved spouse, children and grand-children, is a doorway to a better place. A place where the focus will be on praising God at a much higher level than is possible here. Betty, and her survivors, experienced both sadness and gladness. A reunion awaits the saints.

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