Psalm 116

This psalm contains a verse that has always been intriguing to me: “Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his faithful servants.” (vs 15) I’ve heard it quoted at funerals sometimes, but its full meaning eludes me. At best, I can only make speculative comments about it, but since it was on the plate for today, I thought I would say a few words about it.

When I read this today, my thoughts immediately went to my father—definitely one of God’s faithful servants. I thought back to the night he died. My mother was sitting at his head, and I was sitting at his feet, and we were talking softly to him. For the last half hour of his life, he did not open his eyes. He simply laid still and quiet as his breathing gradually slowed and then stopped.

I have never been at the bedside of anyone who has died before. And while I can’t readily say that I would like to experience such a thing again, I have to admit that it was extremely peaceful and serene. And, as far as half-hours go, it is one of the most precious to me in my memory. I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else except right by his side in his final moments.

My father died from ALS, which means that in the long months before he passed away, he had slowly and steadily lost the ability to walk, talk, eat, and (finally) breathe. It was awful to watch what that disease can do to a person who—not long before—had been so full of life and energy. By the time he drew his last breath, my father was but a shell of his former self.

And that’s why—on that April night—after he was gone, a burst of joy and excitement ran through me as I realized that the next time my father opened his eyes, he would be whole and healthy and free. He would never have to be fed through a tube again. He would never have to be dressed again. His curled-up fingers and shriveled legs would work perfectly. In short, he would never have to spend another moment suffering from ALS.

When that thought hit me, I could have done cartwheels. Death had set my father free.

Perhaps that’s one of the reasons why the psalmist says that God values (or holds as precious) the death of His saints. At that moment, when they close their eyes, He knows that the suffering is over. The next time they open their eyes, He will get to see them face-to-face, and they will get to see Him—the Friend they have loved and lived for. Though they wait now in sleep, death has set them free.

There may be other reasons God regards our deaths as “precious,” but no matter what they may be, we can be sure that our deaths are not random, meaningless events that go unnoticed by our heavenly Father. It can feel that way sometimes. Death comes in the strangest ways, and it can catch us so off-guard that it’s easy to wonder where God is.

But God wants us to know that He is ever mindful of us—both in our life and at our death. Our death is not meaningless to Him. Our death does not remove us from His attention. Even in our death, we remain precious in His sight.

Because our death is precious in His sight, we may trust that it is not random or accidental. We may trust, even in our final moments, that God is working everything together for good. We may trust that death is not the end, but rather, a brief pause. And we may trust that in the very next second, we will open our eyes and see the face of the One who values us so highly that even our death is precious in His sight.