Rev. Robert Fleischmann, National Director, Christian Life Resources
Circumstance
Christians are not immune to great heartbreak in this life. This seems especially so when they receive the stunning news that a friend or family member took their own life. This document addresses how Christians can navigate that heartache in the light of God’s word.
My heart aches when I hear of a suicide. Those closest are often stunned and dumbfounded. It is a massive clash between our emotions and our reason as we try to understand what caused this to happen and how we can now look back on it. This paper is intended to provide a distinctly biblical perspective on the matter.
Depth
I wish I had the gift of composing a few succinct sentences to ease the pain of those left to mourn death through suicide. I don’t know if such brevity is possible, but I do know such brevity is not my gift. I am always deeply affected by the death of anyone, whether expected or unexpected. With every terminal illness and death announcement, I am challenged to face the transient nature of life, despite all the progress that seems to be made to overcome death’s grip on us in this life.
Death is challenging enough to face, but to face it under these circumstances requires especially thoughtful consideration. By my reckoning, this cannot be short and trite. Please bear with me as I attempt to address issues often raised in such circumstances.
Death
Death is the universal intrusion on life. In a world of few certainties, death persists. Eventually, all of us will know someone who has died, and ultimately, we will die. In our American culture of affluence, where creating “heaven on earth” seems only a few more inventions and discoveries away, death is increasingly characterized as something to be delayed, if not ultimately conquered.
The truth is that day will not come. Death is more than the result of violence, accident, or terminal illness. If it were possible to isolate from violence, avoid all accidents, and stay healthy, death would still occur. It is the feature of human existence brought on by sin (Romans 6:23). Sin is the one malady that cannot be fixed by human innovation and progress (Romans 5:6; Ephesians 2:1-9). To state the apparent, therefore, death for you and for the one who committed suicide was always unavoidable (Ecclesiastes 9:2-3). I realize the most profound concern here is the act of suicide that ended life, but I want to take this step by step. We will get to the specific matter of suicide shortly.
Mourning Death
I have become convinced that while some ways are better to die than others, death brings no satisfaction where lives have been touched by the selfless AGAPE love prescribed for us in Scripture (Matthew 22:36-40; John 13:34-35; Romans 13:8-10; Philippians 2:3-5). Loving deeply and sacrificially is what Christians are called to do. For this reason, mourning itself is not a sin. Jesus wept at the death of Lazarus (John 11:35). Jesus mourned for the people of Jerusalem who would face destruction for their lack of faith (Luke 19:41). The writer to the Hebrews noted that Jesus shed tears during his time on earth (Hebrews 5:7). As the sinless Son of God who took on our humanity, Jesus demonstrated that mourning is what real people do when they experience real loss. It is possible to mourn and not to sin. Jesus did it.
Hopeful Mourning
At every funeral I attended or presided over, someplace in there were the words of Paul to the Thessalonians:
Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. (1 Thessalonians 4:13)
The first time I heard those words, I wondered if it was possible to mourn with hope. They seemed like opposite concepts. On the surface, mourning seems closely tied to hopelessness. After all, death brings mourning because death crosses an irretrievable line in this world.
It brings to my mind the reaction of King David when he hears that his son, born of his illicit affair with Bathsheba, had died. He said:
“While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, ‘Who knows? The LORD may be gracious to me and let the child live.’ But now that he is dead, why should I go on fasting? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.” (2 Samuel 12:22-23)
For this life, death is the end. I faced this harsh reality on April 26, 2025, when my father died unexpectedly from a heart attack. He was my best friend of all. I was his oldest son, and we had lived as neighbors for 25 years. Hardly a day passed that I didn’t see him. He was involved in almost every project I worked on around the house or yard. Since he passed, I have caught myself many times thinking of showing him a new idea or talking to him about how to approach a new project, only to catch myself with the jolting reality that he has died.
This is where Christians have a distinct insight, articulated by the apostle Paul’s letter to the Corinthians:
But if it is preached that Christ has been raised from the dead, how can some of you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith. More than that, we are then found to be false witnesses about God, for we have testified about God that he raised Christ from the dead. But he did not raise him if in fact the dead are not raised. For if the dead are not raised, then Christ has not been raised either. And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ are lost. If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied. But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man. For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive. But each in turn: Christ, the firstfruits; then, when he comes, those who belong to him. (1 Corinthians 15:12–23)
I cried at my father’s funeral because I will miss him for the remainder of my life. I fondly recall his humor, insights, little quirks, deep sense of spirituality, and loving devotion to Mom and the family. I pray I have learned well enough from him to continue that legacy without his input. But this is not goodbye forever. This is goodbye for now.
I think of it this way: My mother immigrated to the United States from the Netherlands in 1954, when she was sixteen. She said goodbye to family and friends who remained in the Netherlands with the expectation that she might not see them for the rest of her life. It was a sad experience for her to bid them farewell. My mother, however, was raised a Christian, as were her family and friends. She knew there was a difference between saying goodbye for a lifetime and saying goodbye for eternity. My mother believes in eternity, and faith sustains her as she now lives the rest of her life without my father by her side. She still mourns the separation, but it is a hopeful mourning. It is a lament of a relationship broken, but also the hope of a reunion that will come.
But It Was Suicide
When I was a child, I remember someone telling me that Jesus does not save people who commit suicide. The reasoning was that suicide was the ultimate act of despair, for which the time of grace was cut short so that the sin could not be repented of. The logic of that reasoning does not hold up to the truth of Scripture.
God’s children are instructed to repent of their sins (Acts 3:19). If we focus solely on the act or process of repentance, we are tempted to think the act of repenting earns or works for our salvation, giving the impression that we must “perform” to be saved. However, that would be impossible, because Scripture also states that we are saved by grace and not by works (Ephesians 2:8-9).
The Lutheran Confessions explain it this way:
Properly speaking, repentance consists of these two parts: one is contrition, that is, terror smiting the conscience with a knowledge of sin, and the other is faith, which is born of the Gospel, or of absolution, believes that sins are forgiven for Christ’s sake, comforts the conscience, and delivers it from terror. Then good works, which are the fruits of repentance, are bound to follow.1Theodore G. Tappert, The Augsburg Confession: Translated from the Latin (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1959), 34–35.
Now look at what the Old Testament prophet Joel said about what repentance is like:
“Even now,” declares the LORD, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting and weeping and mourning.” Rend your heart and not your garments. Return to the LORD your God, for he is gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love, and he relents from sending calamity. (Joel 2:12–13)
“Rend your heart and not your garments.” Repentance is far more than merely invoking words or displaying an exterior visual sign of sorrow. Genuine repentance is a disposition of the heart. It is an acknowledgment of our sinfulness, not just a spoken word or action because of a sinful deed here and there, but a keen awareness of our natural inclination against God (Genesis 8:21; Romans 8:7)
When the Apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthians, he drew a clear line between God-pleasing repentance and worldly repentance:
Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death. (2 Corinthians 7:10)
Complete repentance is an abiding consciousness of our evil inclinations. While worldly sorrow tempts us to rank our sins (i.e., terrible, bad, not-so-bad, and “boys will be boys”), Godly sorrow reminds us that no one does right (Romans 3:10), and even so-called “minor sins” condemn us all as guilty before our perfect Judge (James 2:10).
The act of suicide is not, in and of itself, an unforgivable sin. A Christian, in weakness, sins. It happens all the time (Ecclesiastes 7:20; Romans 7:15-24). The Apostle Paul, after acknowledging his inner battle between good and evil, turned to only one solution:
Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord! (Romans 7:25)
It is a terrible thing to shorten life and to self-shorten life. It deprives God’s child of continued service to God and others (Philippians 1:23-24). Perhaps in despair for some wrongdoing, it deprives others of the opportunity to learn the practice of forgiving as they know it from God (Ephesians 4:32). Suicide directly challenges the teaching that even the worst of circumstances are orchestrated for the good of God’s people (Romans 8:28). We will talk more about that passage shortly.
Yet, even for all the bad that comes from suicide, it is a sin for which Jesus died (Isaiah 53:5-6). Paul’s words to the Romans have always been an exceptional comfort for me at times like this when I think of the depth of sin, and the greater depth of God’s love:
But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8)
Christ didn’t die for us at our holiest of moments, but while we were the most offensive and detestable before the perfect God. Jesus died for the sins of all people (John 3:16), including those who committed the sin of self-killing.
Guilt
In my encounters with those who have lost loved ones through suicide as well as through their reckless behavior (mostly, substance abuse), guilt is the ever-present shadow. We replay past encounters with the deceased, thinking of what signs we missed or ignored. We lament that our last words were not better, our attentiveness was not greater, or that our love could not hold them to this life. Because this kind of death is so unexpected, we wonder or maybe even presume that we should shoulder some of the blame.
I have learned that no matter how often we are assured that there is nothing we could have done to prevent the death, doubts once embedded linger, and so does guilt. Even if we actually could have said, done, or intervened more to prevent a suicide, there remains only a single antidote to the guilt: God’s forgiveness. If we cling to either the mistaken or deserved feelings of guilt, we cheapen the sacrifice Christ made for our forgiveness. Clinging to guilt suggests that we think our standard of justice is more perfect than God’s standard. The sacrifice of Christ was for all our sins. He took on our guilt (Hebrews 10:4-10). It would be wrong to insist on carrying the guilt if the Son of God has already done that.
Glory to God
We are victims of our culture. Even as Christians trusting in the salvation we have through Christ, our culture skews our understanding. Our focus shifts from glorifying God (Isaiah 43:7; 1 Corinthians 10:31) to artificial or counterfeit gods. Instead of our dreams and aspirations beginning, focusing, and ending on the single goal of glorifying God, we focus on things of this world, such as our reputation, relationships, careers, pleasures, and contentment. The shocking loss of anything highly valued in life tests our allegiance to God. Have we spent our lives glorifying God in all things, or have we adopted other priorities, relegating the glorifying of God to a low spot on our list of concerns? Nothing like the unexpected tragedy compels us to examine our hearts and priorities.
Mourning the suicide of a loved one challenges our primary allegiance to God. The shock, heartache, and nagging questions tempt us to take our eye off the goal of glorifying God. Don’t fall for it. Your prime directive remains the same: glorify God. God is the one relationship that always endures.
Providence and Romans 8:28
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)
These words rise to the top for any Christian who mourns an inexplicable tragedy. The Apostle Paul wrote to believers living in Rome, undergoing immense persecution, hardship, and tragedy. At the time, the ruler of Rome was Nero. Under his reign, Christians were viewed as a threat to the established order because they refused to worship the traditional Roman gods or recognize the emperor’s divine status. Their rejection of Roman religious practices made them targets for suspicion and hostility.
Historians report that at Nero’s direction, Christians were arrested, tortured, and executed in public spectacles designed to punish, deter, and entertain. Nero held public executions where Christians were thrown to wild animals in the arena, crucified in large numbers, and some were burned alive, often used as human torches to light Nero’s gardens at night.
In this context, Paul counsels the believers to trust that even in the worst of times, God will work it out for their good.
When Christ died for our sins and the miracle of faith (Hebrews 11:1) convinced us that Jesus is our Savior, we became God’s children. Being a child of God is no guarantee against trials and tribulations. This new status as a child of God can even invite trouble for us (John 15:18-20; 2 Timothy 3:12; 1 Peter 4:12-14). Paul tells us in Romans 8:28 that even the horrible and heartbreaking events are all being orchestrated for the good of God’s people.
Our difficulty in grasping this is likely rooted in our conscious or subconscious efforts to make for ourselves a heaven on earth. We seek the greatest pleasure, the perfect job, the ideal spouse, the nicest home, etc. And when we think we have those things, we soon find ourselves fidgeting to make it even better. It reminds me of something C.S. Lewis once wrote:
If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.(“Mere Christianity”)
Scripture reminds us:
Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. (Colossians 3:1)
This is not heaven. There is no replacement in this life for the perfect love of God (1 Corinthians 13:13) and the eternity he has prepared for us (John 14:1-3). Instead, this life is devoted to glorifying God in all things. In this life, the trials and tribulations often remind us of our vulnerabilities and how, despite our best intentions, we drift from placing God first in our lives.
When Job learned about the loss of his children in a disaster, we are told:
At this, Job got up and tore his robe and shaved his head. Then he fell to the ground in worship and said: “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away; may the name of the LORD be praised.” In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing. (Job 1:20 22)
I often wondered how anyone could handle such deep emotional pain and yet still worship God. There is only one answer: to recognize the transitory nature of life and to stake your present existence in the eternal foundation secured by the Redeemer. That is why it was also Job who said these words:
I know that my redeemer lives, and that in the end he will stand on the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God; (Job 19:25–26)
The resolution to heartache is found in the Redeemer. This Redeemer made heaven more than a promise, but a reality for the ancients of the Old Testament and those of us living in the 21st century. This world can provide no rational and enduring explanation that gives you such hope in any great heartache, especially as the survivor of a loved one who committed suicide. Even when you get to the end of the book of Job, you see that God does not answer Job’s questions about why this happened to him. Instead, to summarize it all, God essentially tells Job, “Trust me!”
In my darkest moments, that is one of the most explicit messages I get from God’s word:
He says, “Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” (Psalm 46:10)
The longing to be like God and know all things (Genesis 3:5) has always been the created (us) usurping the authority of the Creator (God). Perhaps our greatest glorifying of God is the quiet stillness that comes from accepting without knowing.
Closing
Paul described our current existence this way:
For now we see only a 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)
This is not heaven. Here, there will always be heartache and tears. In heaven, that changes (Revelation 21:4). Again, we come full circle: “Be still, and know that I am God” is the assurance we need to weather the storm.
Feel the embrace of fellow Christians who wish to hold you and share your grief so that it is not all yours to carry. Listen intently to the words of your pastor, whose sermon will be both more concise and far more eloquent than this lengthy explanation. Know that while God’s people will occasionally find themselves walking in the darkest valleys of life, they are not alone. Their Good Shepherd walks with every one of them through those dark valleys (Psalm 23:4).
Be patient with well-meaning people who fumble in their counsel at this difficult time. It is difficult to find the right words at the right time to help you feel right in a very wrong situation.
Perhaps the good that comes from this is the world-defying hopefulness only a Christian can exhibit in such a hard time. People will notice and want to learn from you the source of your hope, so that even in these darkest hours, you are a beacon of hope (1 Peter 3:15) and God will continue to be glorified.
