{{item.title | uppercase}}

But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep.
1 Thessalonians 4:13-14 (ESV)

My mother-in-law’s children and grandchildren decorated her hospice room with colored Christmas lights. Hospice nurses declared it one of the most comforting send-offs the matriarch could possibly receive before joining her Savior in Heaven.

Many hospice nurses consider it a privilege to walk alongside patients in their final days. They will share stories of the peace patients often find, and the hope of eternal life. Their testimonies reinforce that death is not an end but a sacred transition that reveals the faith and character of a well-lived life.

I’ve felt something similar when older loved ones enter hospice care. It’s not easy to watch someone you love approach the end of their earthly life. But knowing they have eternal life changes everything. Instead of being consumed by sorrow, there’s an overwhelming sense of honor in walking with them, loving them well, and witnessing the joy they have in the hope of Christ.

How can we find inspiration in what can be a season of despair? Paul answers this beautifully in 1 Thessalonians 4:13–17. He tells us that while we grieve, we don’t grieve as those without hope. For those who believe in Christ, death is not final. One day, the Lord Himself will return, and we’ll be reunited with those who have gone before us. This promise transforms our tears into a mix of sorrow and joy—sadness for our temporary separation but deep joy in knowing where they are and who they’re with.

I first experienced this hope…

years before my husband, Tom, passed. It was during the year-long journey of watching his father go home to be with the Lord. My husband played a big role in his dad’s care, and our family witnessed the daily reality of letting go of this world to move on to the next. Tom’s father left no doubt about where he was going or Who he was going to see. His confidence in Christ made his passing feel less like an end and more like a celebration of Easter—a moment of resurrection and renewal, not just loss.

Then came the day I lost Tom. Of course, I grieved—how could I not? But my tears were mostly for my family and for the empty spaces in our lives. Underneath the grief, though, there was celebration. Just a few months before his death, Tom had shared his acceptance of Christ’s salvation. That gave me such joy. Knowing that he is with the Lord– fully alive in a way we can’t yet comprehend– filled me with hope even in the midst of my sorrow.

This week, our extended family experienced another goodbye.

… which takes me back to the hospice room decorated with colored lights. We lost the matriarch of six children and 24 grandchildren. Watching her family rally around her in her final weeks was a privilege. She was rarely alone—visits from children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren filled her days with laughter, memories, and love. My brother-in-law and nephews even decorated her room with Christmas lights, transforming it into a place of beauty and warmth. The lights caught the attention of others in the senior living center, drawing them in to visit. Her room became a space where the Gospel was lived out—a testimony of joy and faith rather than despair and hopelessness.

What about you? How do you see the passings of our brothers and sisters in Christ? Are they moments of overwhelming loss, or can you catch a glimpse of the joy that comes from knowing their eternity is secure?

Paul’s words remind us that death is not the end for believers.

Our grief is real, but it’s not without hope. It’s shaped by the promise of resurrection and the assurance of reunion. So as we walk through these seasons of loss, may we also celebrate the life and hope that Christ has secured for us.

Lord Jesus,

Help those who are grieving today to remember that their husbands and loved ones aren’t lost—they are home. And one day, we’ll be called home too, into a joy that will never end. That’s the hope that holds us together.