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From Luke’s Journal March 2026  |  Vol. 31  No. 1  |  God at the Bedside

In a society like ours, when wealth can buy just about anything, it can’t buy life. Wealthy societies like ours believe they can buy a pain-free death. That’s why we’ve succumbed to the idea that it is ok to assist people in their dying, to euthanise.

I’m not an expert in palliative care, but I understand it to be about treating a person with love and dignity and, to the best of our ability, reducing the pain a person might be experiencing in their dying, without over-medicating. As a theologian, I will say this: it is more important, wherever possible, to limit pain than to have zero pain at the cost of lucidity. I can’t imagine everyone agreeing with this, and this is why I suggest “wherever possible.”¹ God is a communicator, and he does so with words. His normal means of conveying his truth is through words to the hearer.

Whilst a person is able, let them hear. I am not saying that God is unable to reach a person when we no longer can, but whilst the ordinary means of conveying the truth of God to our friends remains, we should treat it as it is – the most precious means of His grace, both to us and to those who are suffering. The words of Jesus are life from the dead. We might not always realise it, but walking the journey with a friend who is dying is as much Christ ministering to us as it is to them.

When I came to visit my friend Pearl*, I was shocked by her state, not what she looked like so much as her inability to hide her pain. I sat with her. Pearl had mouth thrush, and she was dry, thirsty and running a temperature, yet for all this, Pearl still seemed strong. I couldn’t imagine her dying any time soon, but I knew she was in a lot of pain.

I sat with her whilst she spat out her words, a mature Christian wrestling with death. She would say things like, “I don’t know what I believe anymore.” I was her friend and her pastor. I was young, and she’d weathered some serious storms in life. What could I say? I said, “Pearl, you know Jesus is hanging on to you, even when you’re not feeling like you’re hanging on to him.” She’d say, “I know, but it doesn’t feel that way.” 

The context of this discussion was in an aged care facility, where Pearl was arching her back in her chair, asking me to take her clothes off because she was too hot. The nearest thing to this I can describe was like watching my wife in labour.

“Pearl would say things like, “Why won’t God just take me now,” and “Does God hate me?” I’d say to her, “He loves you as only Jesus can.””

Pearl would say things like, “Why won’t God just take me now?” and “Does God hate me?” I’d say to her, “He loves you as only Jesus can.” And she’d say, “I know, but I can’t help saying these things.” I felt hopeless, and I was agonising with my friend. It was awful. But this great promise was a lasting comfort, “God works all things for the good of those who love Him and have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28). There are many moments I fail to believe this, but as I’ve grown in my own faith and as I’ve looked back over my own life, the truth of this has been borne out, time and again.

I know another thing also, the dignity of a person is not in their individuality alone, but in community. We bear the image of God until we breathe no more (Genesis 1:26-28). There is not a person alive who bears that image with the perfection of Jesus (Colossians 1:15-17), but whilst we live, even if our condition limits our image-bearing capacity, to be human is to be an image-bearer. In fact, even when we don’t know who we are anymore, God has got us. Even when dementia or Alzheimer’s means we cannot remember that we are safe in Christ, we are safe, because God knows us fully.

Paul writes to Corinth, “Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known” (1 Corinthians 13:12). Dignity is best experienced by knowing God and being in community. Our individualism drives us to think of dignity as a self-imposed posture. We hold our heads up high, and we don’t show weakness. Yet biblical dignity is surely about sitting in the dust with the sufferer and weeping with them in the bitterness of their condition.

Job’s three friends started well in this area, “And they sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was great” (Job 2:13). The incapacitated person derives the dignity of image-bearing humanity less from their individuality and more from God in Christ – and those who know them.

“Though Job was not dying, the failure of his friends was that they did not treat him with the equality image-bearing demands.”

Though Job was not dying, the failure of his friends was that they did not treat him with the equality image-bearing demands. In Job 12:3, Job reminds them of this, “But I have understanding as well as you; I am not inferior to you” (ESV).

I walked out of that room where Pearl sat, went straight over to the nurses’ station and said, “Pearl is in a lot of pain. What can you give her?” They said, “She is alright.” I said, “I think she needs some sort of pain relief.” They assured me that she was ok and there wasn’t a lot more they could do with her condition.

I don’t believe they thought Pearl was in a great deal of pain, and I doubt they thought she was about to die. I sat in my car and I sobbed. I asked the Lord to take Pearl, even though I thought she was far too strong to die. The following morning, I received a call. Pearl had died during the night. My friend was released from her suffering, and she had gone to be with the Lord. God answered my feeble, sobbing prayer and possibly the prayers of others.

I don’t do this much at all, and I can’t imagine the difficulty of working in palliative care, dealing with people like me, telling them what the patient needs, when nine out of ten times, they have already thought of what the patient needs. But I do know this, that we have great words of solace for our friends who love the Lord Jesus.

Entering into someone else’s pain and grief with the words of Jesus ringing in our ears is God’s way of strengthening the sufferer and the carer alike. After the death of Lazarus, Jesus famously said to his sister Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who believes in me shall never die.’ (John 11:25-26 NIV).

As Christians, a healthy understanding of life in a sinful world makes us aware that though Jesus is our strength and shield, we are not immune to suffering and death. Neither are we cynical about suffering, like it is for nothing. Of course, we would love a suffering-free world, but not at the expense of meaningful relationships.

Finally, there is a time to let go of conversation, and prayerfully do all we can to ease the pain a person feels, to pray for their homecoming in the Lord and tend to our friend with kind actions and kind words, even when it may feel as though they are no longer listening. 

*Pearl is not the aged care resident’s real name.

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1. This is no doubt a topic of serious intellectual discussion for another time. I recognise with humility my limited knowledge in the area and stand corrected on glaringly obvious deficiencies the reader may observe.