Hey, I’ve been sitting with this question for a while. As a pastor, I have been asked many times. The kind of question that sticks to your soul and won’t let go. One of those aching, messy, gut-level cries we whisper into our pillow late at night: “If someone we love takes their life… are they still with Jesus?
We lost someone close recently. He had struggles we knew about, and maybe some we didn’t. He kept a good face through a lot of it, cracked jokes like the rest of us, but he was also battling things deep down. And one day, when it all became too much, he left this world. Just like that.
He had accepted Jesus a few of months before. We were all so full of hope. And then, this.
So now, here we are, caught between grief and grace, wondering if it all still counts. Wondering if salvation stretches that far. And I want to tell you what I truly believe, not from a textbook, but from the depth of my heart, and from what I know of my Father God, who never lets go.
First things first: Jesus is not easily scared off.
He’s not standing at the gates of heaven with a clipboard saying, “Well, you almost made it.” No. That’s not His heart.
Jesus said, all that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never drive away.” (John 6:37)
This does not say “unless they fail at the end,” or “unless they stumble in despair.”
No! It says, “Will never drive you away!”
He also says ‘Come all you who are heavily laden, and I will give you rest”
Come to who, Jesus.
Our loved one came to Jesus. He believed. He reached out with what little strength he had and said, “Yes.” And Jesus held him. I believe that with every fiber of who I am. Even in the end, even in the darkness, Jesus never let go.
I want to be clear: suicide Isn’t the unforgivable sin, and again, as a pastor, I was asked this question many times.
I want to say this gently, because I know how loaded this topic is. Maybe someone told you growing up that suicide means automatic separation from God. I’ve heard it too. But friend, that’s not what Scripture teaches.
The only sin Jesus ever called “unforgivable” was blasphemy against the Holy Spirit, willfully rejecting God's Spirit (Jesus), shutting out His voice entirely. That’s a deliberate, long-term hardening of the heart, not a desperate act in a moment of pain.
And you know what? People who take their lives aren’t thinking straight. It’s not a theological decision; they’re drowning. Drowning people don’t calculate their next step; they just want the pain to stop. That’s not rebellion against God. That’s suffering.
And God, oh, believe me, our Father God sees the suffering.
Please, please understand Jesus Knows What Pain Feels Like!
There’s something haunting and beautiful in the fact that Jesus, right before He went to the cross, said:
“My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.” (Mark 14:34)
He knows what it’s like to be crushed by grief. He’s not far off, arms folded, watching from a distance. He’s the God who weeps. He’s the Savior who entered our pain on purpose. He’s close to the brokenhearted, not ashamed of them.
And I believe with every fibre of my being that when our loved one took his last breath here, Jesus met him in the next.
Here’s the thing: Salvation was never about us being perfect. It’s not a scale where good outweighs bad. It’s a gift. A miracle. An unshakable promise.
“Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.” (Romans 10:13)
Our loved one called on Him. I watched my wife lead him to Jesus. He didn’t have to earn it. None of us do.
If salvation depended on having a flawless ending, none of us would make it. But it depends on Jesus. And He finishes what He starts.
So yes, he’s safe. He’s home, resting in the arms of Jesus.
So, where does that put us?
Grief is brutal. It doesn’t come in straight lines or tidy stages. One day you’re okay, the next you can barely breathe. And there’s guilt, too, questions we didn’t ask, signs we missed, things we wish we’d said.
Please, hear me: this is not your fault.
You loved them. You prayed. You hoped. And that mattered. It still does. God doesn’t blame you. Neither does he.
So let yourself cry. Let yourself laugh again, too, when you’re ready. That’s not betrayal; it’s healing. He wouldn’t want your life to end with them.
You know what gets me sometimes? I often think about how, when we finally see Jesus' face to face, the pain will fall away, but the love will still be there. Love never dies. It’s the one thing that outlasts everything else. From here into eternity.
And I believe, without doubt, one day, we’ll hug them again. Whole. Healed. Free.
And all the “whys” and “what ifs” will melt in the light of perfect peace.
If you’re still holding your breath, unsure, I want to remind you: God is better than we ever imagined.
More merciful. More understanding. More full of love than we can ever grasp.
And He’s holding you right now, too.
So, breathe. It’s okay to grieve. It’s okay to not have all the answers. But know this:
They’re with Jesus. And Jesus is with you.
You are not alone.
RJ (Rox) Nolin
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