8 MINUTE READ

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

In my bio, I mentioned that my pastor, whilst I was training at theological college, said to me, “Have you ever sat with someone whilst they died?”

I hadn’t.

I recall that conversation because he said, “If you get the opportunity to sit and hold someone’s hand whilst they die, do it. It is an immense privilege.” I was curious about it from that point on. I have been to the bedside of many people, but I have never held the hand of someone who has died on my watch. Yet it is constantly with me when a person is no longer lucid, to hold their hand – a final act of human solidarity and love, a kind touch, a warmth from which they are slowly creeping away – something that keeps hold of the dignity of humanity till it is no more. Love is the end of suffering eternally, but our attempts at love, rather than to end suffering, are to endure with the sufferer.

When asked to go to the hospital to visit a dying patient, I find it is usually because they at least have some connection with the Presbyterian Church. One of the most important questions I’ve found, even before I’ve entered the room, is this: “Who’s asking?”

Who’s asking?

Not to be blunt, and I don’t imagine you’d ask the question like I have in this sub-heading, but finding out who wants you to visit will help with what you are going to say. Context for the dying is as important as it is for the living. When I’m called to the bedside, it’s often not the patient who calls for the Minister. It is the family.

Unfortunately, we have become so accustomed to avoiding conversations about death that, when we realise it is upon us, there is no turning back the dial. We have left it too late for any conscious conversation to take place with the dying person.

 Most people don’t want anyone to say anything at all to their dying friend or family member, but they hope for some magic words from the Minister. Which we are, of course, in no position to give them, other than what God Himself has promised. We only have in our arsenal what every other Christian has in theirs. We have the Word of God and in this, the hope of eternity for all those who trust in the good news of Jesus, His death and resurrection for the forgiveness of sins. So, who am I speaking to in those last hours of life, when speech has been cut off, hands are limp, and breathing is shallow? Is there anybody in there?

Is there anybody in there?

I think the closest I have come to death was the local funeral director’s house. It doubled as a mortuary. What was I even doing there? The connection was that my own father occasionally worked as a graveside attendant, and the son of the director was my brother’s good friend.

In that house, I saw dead bodies, lifeless things with makeup on. They were just shells, and I was a fourteen-year-old boy. Even then, I knew there was nobody in there. But in the last hours of life, whilst we have the breath of God in us, the soul or spirit of a person is still at home in the body.

“…if God can create the universe in a spoken word, then he can speak words of life into an unconscious person.”

We don’t ultimately know what a person can hear in their last moments. But what we do know is that if God can create the universe in a spoken word, then he can speak words of life into an unconscious person.

It is at this point that I am forced to reckon with my limitations as a communicator of the truth.

The question above, ‘Who’s asking?’ demands that I address the dying and the family, but I address the family through the dying, because while there is breath, there is life, and while there is life, we can assume God is an able communicator, beyond our human limitations.

In this scenario, I hold the person’s hand. I tell them who I am. I explain I’m going to read a few great words from the Bible and then I’m going to pray. Then I read a Psalm and a passage on the resurrection of Jesus. My favourite is John 11, when Jesus speaks to Martha about her brother Lazarus, who is raised from the dead. Jesus famously says, “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).

The Christian hope in death is found in Jesus and no one else. With an unconscious person, I like the family to be present for this moment. They get to hear the life-giving words of the Bible, and we can pray for the person who is dying and pray for their loved ones as well.

When there is clearly someone at home

Far easier and far more awkward at the same time is visiting the dying when they are clearly in their right mind. It’s far more confronting to talk about death when you can look a person in the eye. Far more confronting to ask the person whether they would like time alone with the Minister to talk through any issues they’re not comfortable with discussing in a room full of people. Far easier, though, to have a real conversation with a person about their life, their joys, their hopes and their worries.

I have not often been in a situation where this has been easy. If the person dying clearly has no understanding or interest in spiritual things, I don’t push it. I might ask them about their life, where they grew up, what they did for a living, and how many children they had (if I got the sense, they had a family). If there was a genuine warmth from their end, I might say, “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?” Only then would I venture to ask, “What do you believe about God and heaven and things like that?” And if that goes well, to speak further with permission about the Christian hope in death. I usually ask, regardless of beliefs, whether I can pray for them before I leave.

“The best is when the person knows me, and I know them, and even better, knowing that they already grasp the eternal hope of Jesus.”

The best is when the person knows me, and I know them, and even better, knowing that they already grasp the eternal hope of Jesus. I usually offer to read a Psalm. One of my favourites is Psalm 139:1-18 because it captures God’s eternal knowledge of us and reminds us of our safety in him. These verses are lovely,

¹⁵ My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
¹⁶ Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be (Psalm 139:15-16).

“All the days ordained for me,” what a fabulous comfort for those who know God and have delighted to have God, in Christ, as the Shepherd and Overseer of their souls (1 Peter 2:25).

You and I are not in control of our lives. We can be wise or foolish, which will often make a difference to the outcomes of each day, week or year. But not one of our days slips by without God knowing all about it, and even more mind-blowing, in our last moments, though we may struggle, God is not without purpose to each day of the believer’s life.

Do we believe God when we read, “God works all things for the good of those who love Him and have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28)?

---