Tragedies in life cause us to reflect and ask some really hard questions. How do we deal with the reality of mental health, anxiety, depression, and an act done in a single moment of deep darkness and despair? In all honesty, this is so hard. It can leave us so confused, and hurt. It's not simple—it's difficult. In these moments how do we navigate our thoughts around what the Bible teaches us about something as tragic and hard as suicide? I think we may be able to start here.
Understanding The Unpardonable Sin
Is murder an unpardonable sin? Not according to Scripture—remember David and Uriah? Then can self-murder be an unpardonable sin? No.
The unpardonable sin in Scripture deals with an unbeliever who blasphemes the Holy Spirit (Mark 3:25-32; Matthew 12:32) by continually rejecting the Spirit. This is definitely not our conversation here. When we look at Scripture holistically, we find that God's grace is much more expansive than our human tendency to categorize and condemn.
The concept of an "unpardonable sin" often gets misapplied in discussions about suicide. But if we examine what Jesus actually taught, He spoke of blasphemy against the Holy Spirit. A persistent, willful rejection of God's work and truth. A person struggling with mental health who makes a tragic decision in a moment of overwhelming darkness is not committing this sin.1 They're not rejecting God; they're overwhelmed by pain they cannot bear alone.
One Act Does Not Define Our Salvation
Does one act determine our eternal salvation or lack of it? Consider this: If I lie, yet repent, and yet have momentary lapses of judgment and sin by lying—does that make me a perpetual liar? Or am I a sinner saved by grace through faith in the process of sanctification? A sinner who sinned and yet is still a saint because my life is wrapped up in Christ.
If I get mad because someone cut me off on the road, and I try to get back at them to cut them off, then lose control and flip my car and die because of my sin, does that one momentary lapse of judgment determine my salvation? I don't think so.
Our journey of faith is not about perfect performance. If salvation depended on our ability to maintain sinless lives, heaven would be empty. Instead, our security rests in Christ's finished work. The apostle Paul reminds us that we are "being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory" (2 Corinthians 3:18).
This transformation is ongoing—we are works in progress, not finished products.
The Reality of Our Fallen Nature
Murder is serious. Self-murder is tragic. Yet, we must remember that while we are justified and declared righteous, on this side of eternity we are still working out our salvation. And at times, because we are fallen and in process, we may commit sins.
The indication of salvation is not a life lived in perfection. There was only one who could live such a life. Jesus, and it is in and through Him that we have security of our union with the Father.
We cannot minimize the gravity of suicide. It causes immeasurable pain to those left behind and cuts short God's intended purposes for a life. But we must also acknowledge the complex factors that lead someone to such desperation. Things like chemical imbalances, overwhelming circumstances, mental illness that distorts perception. These are realities of our fallen world, but they need not negate the substance of our faith.
The Scope of Christ's Atoning Work
Christ's work on the cross covered our sin (past, present, and future) (Colossians 2:13-14; Hebrews 10:11-18). Even the tragic sin of self-murder caused by one moment of deep, deep darkness as a result of anxiety or depression. Even this moment is covered by the precious and atoning blood of Jesus.
The power of the cross is not limited by the nature or timing of our sins. When Jesus declared, "It is finished" (John 19:30), He meant that the payment for sin was complete. There are no categories of sin for which His blood is insufficient.
This truth doesn't make suicide any less tragic, but it does place it within the scope of God's redemptive power rather than beyond it.
Think about it: if salvation could be lost through a single act, no matter how serious, then Christ's sacrifice would be incomplete, conditional, and ultimately insufficient.2 But Scripture declares otherwise. Nothing can separate us from God's love (Romans 8:38-39).
Hope in the Darkest Moments
So can we say that a believer we loved deeply that made a decision in the throes of a dark battle to take their own life is safely and securely in the hands of Jesus?
Yes. Absolutely. It is the very essence of the hope of the Gospel.
This doesn't minimize the pain of suicide or suggest it's ever God's will. Every human life is precious, and each suicide represents a battle lost to the darkness of this fallen world. But it does not demand an eternal loss of salvation. We should do everything possible to prevent such tragedies. We should look into improving mental health care, removing stigma, and creating communities where people can share their deepest struggles without fear.
Yet when prevention fails and we're left with questions and grief, the gospel offers this comfort: our loved one's eternal destiny rests not on their final act but on Christ's finished work.
Their momentary failure doesn't negate a lifetime of faith, just as our daily failures don't separate us from God's love.
For those left behind, this theological understanding doesn't erase the pain, but it can provide a foundation for healing. We can grieve with hope, knowing that mental illness and momentary despair don't have the final word. In Christ, even our darkest moments fall within the embrace of a love that will not let us go.
This is not cheap grace or easy answers. It's the costly, scandalous grace purchased at Calvary. It is a grace big enough for our deepest failures and darkest moments. In this truth, we find both the challenge to care better for the hurting among us and the comfort to endure when tragedy strikes despite our best efforts.
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While they are not committing the unpardonable sin, they are still sinning.
Of course, this presumes a theological position of eternal security. However, even if one holds to the possibility of falling away from salvation, it would need to have room for failure and progressive sanctification as part of the journey.
Thank you, Joel. I knew deep in my heart but it was nice to have this confirmed. My Brother in Law took his life 30 years ago, at age 38. And just this past week, I attended a funeral of a 29 year old who also took his life. Both left behind young daughters. We need to stop the stigma of anxiety and depression and stop letting Satan win these battles.
I've never had this explained in 45+ years, nor have I asked. My aunt (who we were closest to and who hosted my wedding shower) took her life and left two teen daughters, husband and myriad family members to grapple with the tragedy. Thank you for a beautiful reminder of God's love for us-it changes everything.