Exploring Assisted Dying and Suffering

Assisted dying is gaining traction in places like Canada, Europe, and more U.S. states, as a means of relief from suffering. For instance, the Netherlands incorporates the idea of “unbearable suffering with no prospect of improvement” into its legal framework for euthanasia.

It’s essential for lawmakers and medical professionals to heed the experiences of those who have suffered before labeling suffering as intolerable.

No individual can bear a lifetime of suffering all at once, yet, somehow, they manage to get through another day.

In a recent conversation with a long-time friend, Joni Eareckson Tada, she brought up California’s end-of-life option law. Her words struck me: “It’s like people who feel trapped in unbearable suffering can just relocate to California and terminate it all.”

The term “unbearable” really carries a lot of weight in that statement.

Joni herself became a quadriplegic after a diving accident at age 17. Now in her 70s, she has fought through two instances of breast cancer, not to mention a lifetime of chronic pain.

Many would agree that Joni’s experiences align with what lawmakers frequently label as excruciating. Yet, remarkably, she continues to thrive. She remains active, contributing significantly to her community, and is not merely existing but truly living.

She has penned over 60 books, reaches more than a million radio listeners, and spearheads a global outreach for people with disabilities. Few contemporary Christian figures voice their convictions for those in pain quite as she does.

At the end of our chat, I wondered aloud if she had given any thought to retirement.

“No,” she replied succinctly.

Joni referenced the Apostle Paul, who felt torn between leaving this world to be with Christ and staying behind for the sake of others who still relied on him. While heaven offered a far better scenario, there was still work to be done.

She acknowledges the pain but does not believe that death is the kindest resolution.

Having walked beside my wife Gracie through 98 surgeries, including bilateral amputations and continuous pain, I’ve seen how suffering can impact lives.

Joni understands the agonizing reality of being confined to a wheelchair, and she has witnessed many grapple with the feeling that their very existence has become a burden.

I can envision a caregiver mulling over this thought: “This burden is solely mine to bear.”

Recent treatments I’ve undergone for cancer have prompted inevitable reflections: “Who will care for my loved ones when I can’t?”

As assisted dying becomes more ubiquitous, vulnerable individuals might sense a shift in how their lives are perceived, leading to darker questions. “Would everyone be better off if I were gone?”

This perspective can lead compassion down a perilous path.

Death may start to seem like a solution—an escape from suffering, a means to avoid further demands or expectations.

Autonomy is a common principle here. The belief that only I can determine the suffering I will endure and what others may demand from me. This reasoning often appears in discussions about abortion, suggesting no one should demand more than one is willing to sacrifice.

However, when death is accepted as a cure for suffering, the implications extend beyond private judgments. Families, healthcare providers, and insurers inevitably weigh factors like burden, cost, prognosis, and quality of life.

Sometimes, this is termed compassion, but Christian compassion usually calls for a more challenging response.

True mercy engages with suffering; it does not dismiss victims.

If suffering is viewed as random, alleviating it may seem like an act of mercy. But if one believes in a sovereign God, suffering can hold purpose and is within His realm of understanding.

Christianity counters shallow empathy by encouraging us to place our trust in Christ and to help bear the burdens of others.

Our worth is not defined by our health, autonomy, or utility. We are created in God’s image, and even those perceived as weak within the faith community are deemed “indispensable.”

Yet, the question remains: what sustains us when the pain feels relentless?

For Joni, the answer isn’t just sheer determination. And for Gracie, optimism is not the sole remedy. Both are sustained by their faith in Christ.

What does that really look like in practice?

No one can shoulder a lifetime of pain in a single moment. Still, there is hope in being given another 24 hours. The promise isn’t of a quick exit from suffering but rather assurance that we are not forsaken.

After Gracie’s 92nd surgery, as she lay in her hospital room covered in tubes, a young nurse approached to check on her.

Only just awakening from anesthesia, Gracie sensed something amiss.

“How are you?” she asked quietly.

Tears welled up in the nurse’s eyes as she spoke of her troubled marriage.

Gracie reached beyond the wires, took the woman’s hand, and softly shared wisdom from Joni: “God allows what He hates to accomplish what He loves.”

Neither of them comprehended God’s purpose, yet both believed firmly that He was active in their lives.

Gradually, the nurse’s tension eased and she found her footing.

Gracie was guiding another soul to a place of comfort and understanding.

We are not omnipotent saviors. Even while suffering ourselves, we have the ability to help others find their breath and guide them toward a Savior with a purpose beyond what we can discern.

“Carry one another’s burdens,” Paul instructed, “so that you may fulfill the law of Christ.” This calling is for everyone in Christ and cannot be delegated.

If we claim that Christ is sufficient, our actions should demonstrate that belief.

Are we taking God’s word as it stands? If yes, how would anyone know?

They’ll witness us joining with others in their struggles.

Sometimes, I pause. Other times, I carry the burden. But always, I strive to point to the Savior.