Over the centuries one of the distinctive elements of Christianity, which even its strongest opponents have noted, is that we die well. In earlier days, books bore actual titles like “Holy Living and Holy Dying.” In our anesthetic culture that is jarring. We don’t like to talk about suffering. We hardly ever broach the topics of death and the grief which accompanies it. As believers in Jesus, we must be unafraid to honestly and openly deal with the hardest issues of our mortality. We love Psalm 23, but it’s important to remember that every single one of us must have the Great Shepherd, who alone is able to guide us through the “valley of the shadow of death.”  

I recently met a man whose wife showed incredible bravery in the face of incurable cancer. Their rock-like assurance was the one reality that stood out: Jesus is our resurrection and our life. Neither of those are merely events, they are a person. In Jesus there are no dead-end streets. Everything they experienced was a “transition” from what might be deemed as difficult or tragic into glory — every time. The veil between Heaven and earth was thin for them. To live in Christ and to die to self was the beginning of the process of transition of truly dying in Him. When a person is transformed by the Living One it does not matter what circumstance they find themselves in, for every moment of life bears the possibility of transitioning us into more and more of the life that He is.

For those friends, the unmovable foundation of absolute trust in God made those last days together an astounding display of realistic hope. John Wesley would call this kind of faith “full recumbency.”  Having already chosen to live in the fullness of Christian reality enabled this family to meet life’s starkest challenges with trusting, joyful resolve.

Not everything about suffering, death or grief is neat and tidy. There are places for doubt, resentment, even anguish. But they are to be properly laid at the feet of Jesus. Clear, resonating truth forged by love and pain and faith shines through the darkness. A devastating prognosis can be permeated with the only possession we will have at our last breath: hope in the One who is with us. As our world begins to quake, the only reasonable option is to dive headlong into our unchanging Lord. So realistic was my friends’ life hidden in Christ that they no longer asked, “why us?”  but “why not us?”  It is only a fully surrendered heart that produces that kind of response. If life is primarily about Jesus, then there is substance before circumstance, faith permeating every stage of dying, and purpose in pain.  

Grief is hard. But the people of God can live unafraid of weakness or pain. This most difficult of emotions is given a place to be laid down. The place for grieving love to go in the process of dying and death is into the presence of Christ, who promises to give Himself. 

This is the thing about transitions in Jesus. He does make all things new. He promises fullness of joy despite our momentary afflictions and absence of loved ones. He is the indescribable reality beneath our flights of emotion and feelings of being undone. We are called to not waste our sorrows but to find that the crux of our purpose of being is the salvation that Jesus is in Himself. We are meant to live a holy life and to die a holy death in Him, our life. We are all at different points of transition. They are preparing us for our final one. Both life and death can affirm that only Jesus offers new and eternal life, today and forever.   

Questions to ponder

• What does it mean to “die well” as a follower of Christ? How might that look practically today?
• Are you living today in a way that reflects your hope in eternity? What changes might help you live with greater focus on what truly matters in Christ?

This article was originally titled “On Holy Living and Holy Dying” in the November 2025 issue of The War Cry.