A Love That Lasts: Caring for Those Grieving the Loss of Marriage in the Eschaton

In the city of Datong, in Shanxi province in China, archeologists are excavating some six hundred tombs, several of which date back to the Northern Wei period (386 to 534 C.E.). In one of these ancient resting places, a man and woman lie entwined. The couple, their skeletal remains—now little more than dust—are embracing, their arms encircling each other’s waists, the woman’s head on the man’s shoulder. The man’s skeleton shows an unhealed injury to the arm, but no sign of injury appears on the woman, leading researchers to wonder if she killed herself to join her lover in death. The authors who published their study in the International Journal of Osteoarchaeology wrote, “The message was clear—husband and wife lay together, embracing each other for eternal love during the afterlife.”

The tragedy of deep love is that its precious chords are always cut, eventually, by the blade of death. For Christians who hold to the doctrine that saints will not be given in marriage in heaven, this can weigh heavily on those grieving the loss of a spouse or reflecting on life in the new creation. How do we handle with care, with biblical comfort and clarity, those who are wrestling with this understanding of God’s word?

In order to establish a thorough doctrine of relationships in the eschaton, our answer must account for both what Scripture reveals to us about marriage in heaven as well as what it tells us about marriage on earth, the purposes for which it was instituted, and the role it plays in the life of Christians living in this present age. Ultimately, our comfort concerning earthly sorrows and the mysteries of the new creation must always rest in the revealed promises of God to his people, which are consummated in the wedding feast of the Lamb.

Marriage in the Eschaton

Few passages in Scripture address the doctrine of human marriage in the eschaton. The most direct is the account of the Sadducees challenging Jesus on the question of remarriage, relayed in the three Synoptic Gospels (Matt. 22:30, Luke 20:27–38, Mark 12:18–27). In all three narratives, the Sadducees approach Jesus with a far-fetched hypothetical problem of a woman who marries seven brothers in turn, each time without producing an heir. In heaven, then, whose wife will she be? Jesus answers that, in heaven, men and women will not be given in marriage because they will be like the angels. Then, he draws on Exodus where God introduces himself to Moses as the “I AM,” the God of the patriarchs, the God of the living. In Luke, he adds: “The sons of this age marry and the women are given in marriage, but those who are considered worthy to attain to that age and the resurrection from the dead, neither marry nor are given in marriage; for they cannot even die anymore” (Luke 20:34–36).

It should be noted that the Sadducees are not actually asking a question about marriage in heaven, though that is the premise of their query. Rather, they are trying to trap Jesus with a tricky theological question. The Sadducees did not believe in a resurrection, rejecting oral tradition in favor of a stricter reading of the Torah. They use the Levirate marriage laws from Deuteronomy 25:5 to form their improbable scenario—for how could anyone make sense of the resurrection under circumstances such as these? But, although the Sadducees know their Scripture, their understanding of it is limited by their low view of the power of God. R. T. France writes, “Their outlook was essentially that of secular man, who cannot accept a God whose work goes beyond present human experience; a knowledge of Scripture (even only of the Pentateuch, from which Jesus will argue in vv. 31–32) should have taken them beyond that.” Indeed, the very premise of their question was inappropriate because it misunderstood the nature of life after death, assuming “that a resurrection life must be subject to the same conditions as life on earth.”

Although we approach this same question of marriage in heaven without artifice, it is important that we do not also make the mistake of the Sadducees by limiting our understanding of the power of God and the kingdom he has prepared for us to our finite comprehension of this present age.

Paul emphasizes the nature of this age and the age to come within the context of human marriage as well. In his letter to the Corinthians, he writes extensively on marriage in light of “the present form of this world” (1 Cor. 7:31). G. G. Findlay sums up Paul’s view of earthly commitments thusly: “Home with its joys and griefs, business, the use of the world, must be carried on as under notice to quit, by men prepared to cast loose from the shores of time.” Without falling into asceticism, Paul grounds earthly joys in the temporary nature inherent to the things of this age. His purpose is not to devalue marriage but to place it in perspective. James Moffatt writes: “For him everything shrinks into insignificance beside the glory of being a Christian. He cannot conceive that anything really matters except devotion to the joy of belonging to the Lord and being at his disposal.”

When we consider the goodness of marriage in this age, then, we ought first to keep it in its proper place: it is a lesser good than being a child of God (Rom. 8:16–17). Spouse is not a greater identity than coheir. If this is true of our relationships now, how much sweeter it will be to dwell in eternity with the church as the bride of Christ, as brothers and sisters who are unhindered by sin and the corruption of the flesh.

This should come as a great comfort to the many who have never been blessed with spouses or children. Under the old covenant, family was the means of maintaining one’s place in the land (Num. 26:52–55, 27:1–11). To be without heirs was to be cut off from the promise of God. And, of course, it was through the bearing of children that the Messiah would come (Gen. 3:15). And yet, God’s unfolding promise has always been fuller than that—the barren will sing, the eunuchs will have an everlasting name (Isa. 54:1, 56:5). Paul’s eschatology provides a balm to those who feel the sting of loss for a marriage that never came to be or the ache of empty arms for children they will never bear. In the new covenant, our inheritance in the Kingdom is secured, our family is as many as the saints, our groom is the Promised Seed himself.

It is this wedding to this groom toward which Scripture points us most frequently (Hos. 2:16–20, Isa. 62:5, Eph. 5:32). Much of what is revealed to us about the coming kingdom in Scripture comes to us in nuptial language. In Matthew, shortly before the Sadducees ask him about marriage in heaven, Jesus directly parallels heaven with a wedding celebration: “And again Jesus spoke to them in parables, saying, ‘The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding feast for his son’” (Matt. 22:1–2). Later, Jesus compares the kingdom of heaven to virgins awaiting the arrival of the bridegroom (Matt. 25:1–12), and in Luke’s Gospel, he uses a wedding feast to speak about those who have a place in the kingdom (Luke 14:7–11, 12–24). All three of the synoptic Gospels refer to Christ as the bridegroom (Matt. 9:15, Mark 2:18, Luke 5:34), and John’s Gospel includes John the Baptist’s proclamation that Jesus is the long-awaited Christ, using this same language: “The one who has the bride is the bridegroom. The friend of the bridegroom, who stands and hears him, rejoices greatly at the bridegroom's voice. Therefore this joy of mine is now complete” (John 3:29). Here, too, we see the implication that the bride is the people of God.

Perhaps the clearest we see this eschatological wedding is in Revelation 19 and 21. A resplendent scene of matrimonial joy unfolds in these last chapters of Scripture, the climax of the story of God and his people: “Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready” (Rev. 19:7; cf. 2 Cor. 11:2, Rev. 21:2). This wedding is the eschatological destiny of the people of God. Ian Paul writes, “Throughout Revelation, the ruling power of God is never detached from the fate of his people, and the reign of God here is expressed precisely in the unhindered union of Jesus with his people as the wedding of the Lamb for which his bride has made herself ready.”

The image of the church—the bride—being presented spotless, no longer dirtied by the sin that has ravaged her for nearly all of human history, should make weary hearts rejoice. Death conquered, the battle against the Evil One finished, believers resurrected, and God himself wiping away tears of the brokenhearted—how could any earthly marriage compare? Indeed, it is to this heavenly marriage that earthly marriage ultimately points (Eph. 5:32).

The Purpose of Earthly Marriage

Marriage may be a foreshadowing of the church’s relationship with her savior, but that is not the only purpose for which this earthly institution was established. The Westminster Confession of Faith states: “Marriage was ordained for the mutual help of husband and wife, for the increase of mankind with legitimate issue, and of the church with an holy seed; and for preventing of uncleanness” (WCF 24.2). This trifold reasoning is echoed similarly in Matthew Henry’s commentary on Luke, with the exception of “the mutual help of husband and wife,” which he replaces with, “the comfort of human life.”

There is no need for earthly marriage in the new creation, Henry writes, because “those that have entered into the joy of their Lord are entirely taken up with that, and need not the joy of the bridegroom in his bride.” Indeed, he posits that the three purposes for marriage, necessitated by this earthly existence, are obsolete in heaven. Death will be no more, so there will be no need for procreation to refill the population, and “where there is a perfection of holiness there is no occasion for marriage as a preservative from sin.” As for the comfort of human life, Henry points to the bliss of being made a naturalized citizen of heaven: “They shall see the same sight, be employed in the same work, and share in the same joys, with the holy angels.”

A common concern about the lack of human marriages in heaven stems from a misunderstanding of Genesis 2:18, which the Westminster Confession of Faith cites as support for the 24.2 clause, that marriage was “ordained for the mutual help of husband and wife.” Genesis 2:18 is frequently used to promote the idea that men and women were created with an ontological need for marriage. However, Genesis 2:18—which reads, “​​Then the Lord God said, ‘It is not good for the man to be alone; I will make him a helper suitable for him’”—immediately follows the pronouncement of the covenant of life. In verse 15, man is given his purpose: to cultivate and keep the garden. In verse 17, he is told not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, upon pain of death. The commands here are of work and worship. In this context, God recognizes man’s aloneness and the need for a helper. Woman, then, is not made merely as a wife, but as a co-laborer and co-worshiper. To the extent that humans will continue godly labor and worship in the eschaton, woman will continue to be a help to man in these ways—this aspect of helper encompasses more than either of their roles as husband or wife. This is true both now and in the new creation.

The “aloneness” in Genesis 2:18 is not in reference to the need for a spouse but the human need for community. In his commentary on Genesis, John Calvin writes: “Moses now explains the design of God in creating the women; namely, that there should be human beings on the earth who might cultivate mutual society between themselves.” In this way, Genesis 2:18 is reflected in our very genetic coding. A person may live happily and well without ever marrying, but in isolation from other people, humans suffer greatly. Jonathan Grant writes that God “wired our brains for relational connection,” which is filled first by care-filled parenting and next by the broader community of friends, neighbors, and relations. Grant writes that “building communities of joy and friendship” should be a priority of the church. And Paul does not disagree with this: “Therefore encourage one another and build one another up, just as you are doing” (1 Thess. 5:11). He encourages hospitality (1 Pet. 4:9), generosity (Rom. 12:8), and care for one another (1 Cor. 12:25).

It follows that Paul would put such an emphasis on caring for the saints. Not only are our relationships with other humans crucial to our well-being, but these relationships have been redefined within the context of the work of Christ. Jesus changes the definition of family during his earthly ministry: “My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it” (Luke 8:21). This is why Paul is able to tell the unmarried to remain so—their family is the church. It is this relationship—spiritual siblings, coheirs—that we will take with us into eternity. We are heirs together, the bride of Christ, bound for cosmic consummation.

How do we reconcile, then, earthly marriage with the heavenly one? Early church fathers and medieval theologians viewed celibacy in terms of the human telos. If we are not given in marriage in heaven, then those who remain unmarried on earth are a foretaste of the eternal state.

Catholic theologian Matthew Levering argues that “Human marriage is the central analogue for the purpose of all creation.” Rather than being created for earthly marriage, “God created humans for the eschatological marriage,” and it was “his eternal purpose to unite creation intimately to his own unfathomably wondrous triune life of love.”

Counsel for the Grieving

This should be a great comfort to God’s people who wait with hope for “the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Rom 8:18). And yet, earthly marriage is a real source of joy, a union ordained by God to bless humans, unique among the relationships we can experience. What comfort belongs to those who grieve its loss and sit with troubled minds about its absence in the world to come?

For some, envisioning eternity without the possibility of sexual expression, which is a natural and God-given facet of the human experience, seems frustrating. Here, a proper understanding of the new age is essential. David L. Turner comments that the Sadducees imagine the resurrection and afterlife as a replication of life in this present world. “They are ignorant that God’s transforming power means that people after resurrection are no longer sexually active (cf. 1 Cor. 15:35–39). Sexuality is part of the goodness of creation, but life in the resurrection will transcend this aspect of creation.” We may feel keenly what will be lost in the passing away of this world, but the promises of God lead us to trust “what no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him” (1 Cor. 2:9).

Although the sexual intimacy found only in marriage and which leads to procreation will not be present in the new creation, there is no indication from Scripture that the sweetness of partnership, friendship, and emotional intimacy nurtured in marriage will be lost. Commenting on the Sadducees’ question in Matthew, France writes:

In this new deathless life there will be no place for procreation, and the exclusive relationship within which this takes place on earth will therefore not apply. It is this aspect of marriage which Jesus’ argument excludes from the resurrection life, rather than any suggestion that loving relationships have no place there… Jesus’ reply points them to a possibility of fulfillment of these relationships in the risen life which the exclusiveness of the marriage bond in earthly life would have rendered unthinkable. Jealousy and exclusion will have no place there.

Instead of the essential exclusivity needed for the earthly marriage, heavenly communion with the saints will be inclusive. And, unlike earthly relationships, the eschatological friendship will be free from sin, perfected and glorified. What we hope to nurture in our relationships in this age will be fully-fruited in the new creation. Grant summarizes Bernard of Clairveaux on reordering the passions according to the God-centered reality of eternity: “As we breathe in the Spirit’s love, we breathe it out into our practical relationships in the church and beyond. This is the picture of relational joy, peace, and intimacy envisioned in Revelation 19 at the eschatological wedding feast, when all self-consciousness and envy will be set aside, and God’s love will be all in all.”

As Paul seeks to remind the saints of Corinth, neither the sorrows nor the joys of this world will affect the final balance. Moffat writes, “The Christian life must never be identified with even the nearest and dearest of worldly experiences, however legitimate and appealing they may be. Marriage, grief, happiness, and trade—against none of them in themselves has the apostle a word to say. Only, they are not everything for a Christian.”

This is our precious reality, the comfort for those grieving loss and change: Resurrection, glorification, and eternal union with our savior, friend, and bridegroom is the promise of God. This is the “fundamental doctrine of hope.” And though this question of marriage in the new creation may weigh heavily now, shrouded as it is in mystery, it is unlikely to provoke a second thought for saints whose rest is won. “In the afterlife, one need not wrestle with determining spouses, since the afterlife is about knowing God.”

There is validity in the grief and fear of losing in heaven what we understand of a relationship that has been so precious on earth, but these natural impulses also expose a possible deficit in a Christian’s vision of Christ and his glory. Being sensitive to circumstances and careful about how these truths are communicated, it is important to help those who are unsettled by this doctrine of eschatological marriage grapple with what they are truly cherishing in this life—the gifts or the Giver? Matthew’s Gospel describes storing up treasures in heaven that will not be subject to the corruption of this broken, fading world, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also” (Matt. 6:21). No matter how sweet, our marriages are not lasting treasures—it is to our spiritual detriment to prize them more highly in this life than we do our hope of glorification and the dawn of the new creation. Consider how Paul describes attaining the resurrection:

Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith—that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead. (Phil. 3:8–11, emphasis added)

Paul writes this in a discourse about righteousness by faith, but the urgency with which he pens this testimony should stand as a model for believers, whom Christ has made his own, awaiting their Savior and the transformation of their bodies (Phil. 3:20–21).

Christians who are unsettled by the thought of not being married to their spouses in eternity can find comfort in having their eyes reoriented to their creational purpose and eschatological fulfillment: to worship the King, to be—as the church—wedded to his Son, the Second Adam. Though we enjoy earthly marriages, we look forward to a greater wedding. And this should inform not only our hope but our current relationships. We should seek to bring eternity into our communion with the saints and to ground our marriages in a love shared between coheirs as well as spouses. We ought to consider if we value highly enough, even now, our relationships with our brothers and sisters in the church, with whom we will share eternity. Acknowledging that we cannot comprehend the glory of the world to come, we ought to stay heavenly minded, keeping our gaze fixed on the author and perfecter of our faith, Jesus Christ, the hope of all the earth. And one day, we will all watch the New Jerusalem descend from heaven, adorned as a bride for her husband, and we will hear a voice from the throne proclaiming:

“Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” (Rev. 21:3–4)