SALEM and AUMSVILLE, Ore.—Esther Ybarra’s “Celebration of Life” memorial service in September began in the same manner in which she lived, according to friends: in worship. Along with sounds of guitars and song, the Salem, Ore., chapel where 600 mourners gathered to commemorate the young woman rang with occasional laughter as friends and family shared memories of one whose life had impacted so many. There were also sniffles and tissues as people lamented her short life—just 21 years.

Esther died in Portland in July after a two-year battle with cancer. When she was diagnosed with stage 4 alveolar rhabdomyosarcoma, a rare soft tissue cancer, she was a 5-foot-10, 172-pound college freshman with a six pack and dreams to play Division I volleyball. When she died, she was about 100 pounds with a broken body—yet those who watched her die say she was the strongest woman they’d ever met.

Esther’s story has parallels with that of Brittany Maynard, who three years ago became the face of “right to die” advocacy when she died at age 29. Both were young, vivacious women facing terminal cancer during their prime years. But their legacies reveal starkly different views on life and death.

Maynard chose to end her life under Oregon’s assisted suicide law, viewing her decision as “death with dignity.” Esther chose to live her last days to the fullest “for the glory of God.” Maynard said she would avoid “fear, uncertainty, and pain” by dying “on my own terms.” Esther decided to “lay everything at the feet of Jesus”—including fear, uncertainty, and pain.

One said her suffering would be a “nightmare scenario” for family members. The other learned to comfort and exhort family and friends through her suffering.

At Esther’s memorial service, her father, Ron Suelzle, teared up seeing how many people showed up. “Hi, I’m Esther’s dad, and I’m proud to be Esther’s dad for 22 years,” he said, breaking down.

Later, Suelzle told me he regretted his introduction: “I should have said, ‘Hi, I’m a Christian, and God has given me the privilege of being Esther’s father.’”

That’s something Esther taught him: Even when people fussed over her in a hospital room, she always reminded them that Jesus should be their focus.

“Her legacy is not one of despair,” one friend told mourners at the memorial, encouraging them to “choose joy every day”—as Christ did.

Esther Ruth Suelzle Ybarra was born on Oct. 3, 1995, in a Portland suburb, the oldest of seven children of Ron and Teresa Suelzle, a high-school teacher and a homemaker. She was full of life even before she was born, seemingly dancing in her mother’s womb during worship time at church. As a child, she loved twirling around the living room, hands on hips, feet kicking high, never losing her smile even when she fell. At 2 years old she used cabinet drawers to climb up to the bathroom sink to brush her teeth, and told her surprised father, “I’m capable.”

That drive and independence grew in her teenage years as she began competitive sports. She taped lists of goals and motivational quotes to the ceiling above her upper-bunk bed: “Pain is weakness leaving the body.” “No excuses.” “If I want to WIN, I will work harder.” She went to her high-school gym almost every evening and was the only female who joined all the football drills. By her junior year, Esther could squat 225 pounds and bench-press over 155. Her one “cheat day” was Friday, when she indulged in a bowl of vanilla ice cream.

The hard work paid off, at least outwardly: Esther’s school district named her Female Athlete of the Year, and Corban University offered her scholarships to play collegiate volleyball. But at times, Esther felt her ambitions overriding her faith: She wondered if she had room for God, and once even asked Him to leave her heart.