Death Is Never Good

“What do you consider a ‘good death’?”

The question lingered in the air. After ninety minutes of discussing life-support, hospice, and end-of-life choices, this one inquiry cut deeper than the rest. It wasn’t the medical logistics that made me pause it was the soul-searching weight of it. I could picture the anguish etched into countless faces, the echoes of weeping I’ve carried with me long after patients took their final breath. My answer finally came, low and heavy: “I hate that phrase.”

Death has never been good.

Grief itself testifies to this truth. We cry not just because we miss someone, but because something is fundamentally wrong. We feel the rupture, the violation of a design that was meant to be whole and eternal. Ecclesiastes 3:11 tells us that God has “set eternity in the human heart.” We weren’t made for death. We were made for life real, everlasting life with God.

Yet, in modern culture, death is increasingly marketed as an acceptable even honorable exit. In 2021 alone, over 10,000 people in Canada opted for Medical Assistance in Dying (MAiD). With new laws possibly expanding the right to those with mental illnesses, not just terminal ones, society is shifting to view death as a legitimate solution to suffering. In the United States, similar legislation continues to pass quietly, state by state. The implication is clear: if life becomes too painful, death might be preferable.

But Scripture resists this narrative. 1 Corinthians 15:26 calls death “the last enemy to be destroyed.” It's not a passageway into dignity it is the price of sin (Romans 6:23). When we accept death as “good,” we risk aligning with a worldview that elevates personal autonomy over divine authority, and comfort over sanctity.

The pain death leaves behind is too real to romanticize. As a trauma surgeon, I’ve stood beside countless beds where lives slipped away some in peace, many in torment. Each time, grief arrived, swift and merciless. I’ve watched parents wail over lifeless children. I’ve witnessed spouses crumple in disbelief. Even the “prepared” families those who knew death was imminent were often blindsided by the sorrow that followed. Because no amount of anticipation can prepare the human heart to lose someone it loves.

Weeks later, those same family members often returned, stunned by how deeply grief gripped them. They’d be going about their day, then suddenly undone by a familiar ringtone or the scent of a favorite shirt. These small things open deep wounds. Even when death comes with dignity, it still comes with devastation.

This suffering this deep, soul-level ache points to something more than emotional fragility. It reveals our longing for a different reality. Romans 8:22 tells us that “the whole creation has been groaning.” We sense that we were made for something more than this broken existence. We yearn for a world where goodbyes are never needed.

God knew we couldn’t save ourselves from the wages of sin, so He came to save us Himself. Jesus Christ “a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3) stepped into our suffering. In Gethsemane, He wept in agony. On the cross, He bore the full weight of our death so that we might live. He didn’t simply die; He overcame death. And in rising, He gave us a living hope (1 Peter 1:3), one that promises not just comfort but complete restoration.

This is the truth we cling to: through Christ, death has lost its sting (1 Corinthians 15:55). The world we ache for is not fantasy. It is real and promised. Revelation 21:4 assures us that in the new heaven and new earth, “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more.” No more weeping. No more mourning. Only life full, radiant, eternal.

Until that day, we groan. But we groan with hope.

So when the world tells you that death can be dignified, even good, hold fast to what God has declared. Death was never part of Eden. It is the enemy, not the escape. But in Christ, it is a defeated enemy. And one day, it will be no more.

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