On Sunday evening August 31, 1997, ecclesias throughout the Caribbean, joined by individual brothers and sisters worldwide, were praying as one for Sis. Karolyn Andrews as she lay linked by tubes to life support systems in the intensive care unit of the hospital in Georgetown, Guyana Sis. Karolyn was the victim of a brutal gun attack in which five shots left bullets in various organs of her body. The prayers were undoubtedly answered, but not as we would have wished. As the united prayer ceased around 10 p.m. and the brothers and sisters dispersed to their homes, Karolyn quietly slipped into a peaceful rest, to await the gift of a glorious body like that of her Lord whom she loved so much.
For several months before her death, Karolyn knew that the likelihood of being gunned down at her home was high. Alongside the Andrews’ home is a small shop where she served and where she had witnessed and survived a previous gangland-style incident in which a neighbor was shot. She refused to be intimidated and arranged with her family, that, in the event the gangsters returned, her family would be enabled to escape. She planned with the ecclesia the program of any funeral service, if required, and even selected the hymns, just as they were sung on September 3.
The funeral became a magnificent, and deeply moving, witness to the “faith that was once for all entrusted to the saints” (Jude 3). The six Guyana ecclesias were there in full strength and even some persons of days ago, whose love had waxed cold, attended. I was surprised: few from the upper strata of Guyanese society were there, despite the fact the event was the top headline on the front page of Guyana’s daily newspaper. Clearly, Karolyn was not numbered among the “wise by human standards, influential or of noble birth” (I Cot 1:26). But the common people, her neighbors, were there, in throngs, a great multitude, maybe 500 filling up every corner of the mortuary chapel, with hundreds more surrounding it, blocking the streets.
The contrast was stark between the dignified grief mingled with faith, hope and love of the minority Christadelphians. Wilder emotions among the non-Christadelphians were calmed by brethren, with some needing to be escorted away so as not to disturb the service. Interestingly, some of those taken away later returned to listen.
The most moving episode occurred immediately after I had given the address. Bro. Hugo Mitchell asked the pallbearers to close the casket. There was an outcry: the people demanded a lying-in-state before the casket was taken to the waiting hearse. What followed was astounding: hundreds of grieving, appreciative people from among the poor of Georgetown formed a long line and slowly filed by the open casket as if Karolyn was “royalty”.
At the site of interment, Bro. Nesbit Amos of Kilcoy recalled that 10 years ago, another beloved Guyanese Christadelphian, Mahendra Prashad, had been gunned down by bandits at his home in Berbice. His mother, a Hindu at the time, was so impressed with the hope and demeanor of the Christadelphians that she is now a sister, rejoicing in the Bible hope of eternal life. Bro. Nesbit called upon any present who were bewildered and hopeless to turn to the only hope for salvation, the Lord Jesus Christ.
The family was prominent throughout the day’s proceedings. Bro. David, Karolyn’s widowed husband, gave the eulogy; Bro. Dale, a son, and Bro. Patrick Rodney, a brother, both read the word of God. The daughters sang with heart and soul, making the service a wonderfully courageous, touching witness to the Truth we cherish.
To us in the Caribbean, we have lost a sister who embodied and symbolized to all of us what a sister in Christ should be: loving, caring, responsible in business, brave, a devoted wife and mother and a faithful and tireless “servant of the church” (Rom. 16:1).
The Origin of the Organic World – Part One