Peter Witkowski Discipleship

The Resurrection, Incomplete Theology, & Action: A Lesson in Grieving Well

On the Sabbath after Jesus’s death, all that remained of his once large entourage was two women: Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James of John…two souls that knew the chaotic and unsettling depths of grief. But even in their sorrow and confusion, we still find them walking to the Messiah’s tomb. And in so doing, they provide us with a wonderful picture of godly grief. They reveal that godly grief consists not necessarily of great theological depth but of obedience in accordance with one’s knowledge of the Scriptures. In other words, to know whether we have handled or are handling our grief well, we need to only answer one simple question: “Am I obeying the Lord in accordance with my understanding of the Scriptures?”

What the Women Did Well

Though the women’s presence at the tomb proves quite commendable, it also reveals a noticeable kink in their theology. They do not expect Jesus to rise “After three days” even though the Lord predicted just that several times (Mt 27:63). Their theology was as incomplete as that of the disciples who had all run into hiding when Jesus was arrested and wrongfully convicted.

What set the women apart from the apostles and the many others who missed that narrative arch of Old Testament would be completed in Jesus was the women’s willingness to act on what they did know. Without question, they believed that Jesus was the Messiah who would accomplish, “the resurrection on the last day (Lk 11:24).” Though they did not know how a dead Messiah would triumph over death and most likely possessed more questions than answers as the moved along that first Easter morning, they never doubted the coming resurrection. And until that day came, the women would continue to worship Jesus, beginning with the preservation of his corpse. In so doing, they reveal that what glorifies God in our grief is not necessarily the development of theological papers derived from years of academic reading (though such papers certainly have their place in Christendom and even in grief) but profound obedience in light of what one does know. J.C. Ryle noted, “As a father delights in the first daisy that his child picks up and brings him, even so the Lord is pleased with the weak attempts of his people to serve him.” God delights in our expression’s of true faith however small.

Application for our Grief

When we lose a grandparent, close friend, a child, or a spouse, our souls will often melt into a puddle of confusion. During those first long days, most can barely manage to put together a funeral and navigate all the paperwork that floods their phones. At such times, most do not have enough head space or energy to discuss the ins-and-outs of divine simplicity. When we grieve, our minds often stop answering questions and start generate thousands of new ones such as, “Why?” Why did they die? Why this disease? Why this end?

But thankfully as these women at Jesus’s tomb reveal, we do not have to find answers to all of these questions to grieve well. Though we should long for a deeper knowledge of the Scriptures and should aspire to never be called “spiritual infants (1 Cor 3:1),” we do not have to read a systematic theology to survive grief.  We need only to act upon what we do know. When are faces are stained by tears and our stomach muscles pulse, we need to only place our hope in the most basic and fundamental of truths, beginning with: Jesus is the resurrection. He is good. He who died for me loves me and will support me. As the psalmist, we need only realize that, “This is my comfort in my affliction, that your promise gives me life (Ps 119:50).”

Act

Then equipped with these promises, we act. Admittedly, none of us will get the opportunity to physically care for Jesus on this earth like these ladies did. But we can still care for Christ by caring for our brothers and sisters. When explaining the final judgement in Matthew 25, Jesus equates caring for the least of these with caring for him. Matthew records Jesus saying, “And the king will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me (Mt 25:40).” In other words, when grieving believers care for their fellow church members they care for Christ.

For some of us, that care might entail leading family devotions with our kids. For some of us, that might mean going to church and worshiping. For others of us, that might mean watching our grandkids or continuing to serve in the church nursery. For some of us, that might mean preaching sermons or teaching Sunday school classes. For others of us, that might mean visiting homebound members or bringing meals to a sleep deprived new mom. For some of us, that might mean discipling the young, single man who just joined the church. And for some of us, that might mean continuing to pray over your church family for an hour each day. Even though we might not understand all that is happening when a loved one dies, we understand enough to know that Jesus saved us from our sins and will come again, and that he should be obeyed. We know enough to act. In other words, we should go to the tomb.

Conclusion

When all seems dark and confusing, we don’t need to craft new ministries or redraft our life goals. Nor do we have to be the sharpest tool in the theological tool shed. Rather, we do need to act upon the essential gospel truths that we do know. If we do, we too shall experience Jesus’s goodness again and behold the favor of his face. Joy will come in the morning. The tomb is empty. Go and serve the risen Christ.

Peter Witkowski Pain & Suffering

Tabernacles, Grief, & My Greatest Hope

One of the most striking aspects of the Transfiguration narrative found in Matthew 17:1-8 is that the disciples who had friends and family below did not want to come down off the mountain. While we know Jesus, Moses and Elijah appeared to the disciples on the mountain, our language struggles to capture the true joy, goodness, and glory that three disciples experienced while in the presence of the glorified Jesus. Matthew 17:1 says that Jesus’s face “shone like the sun, and his clothes became as white as light.” Mark 9:3 says, “his clothes became radiant, intensely white, as no one on earth could bleach them.” Luke says of Jesus “the appearance of his face was altered, and his clothing became dazzling white (Lk 9:29).” Despite the limitations of our language, we can affirm that the disciples got a taste of the heavenly glory of Christ. It proved so delightful that they never wanted it to end. Thus, Peter tossed out the idea of building everybody a little house or tabernacle up there so that they would never have to leave.

Admittedly, Peter’s comment about tabernacles arose from the depths of idiocy (Mt 17:4). He failed to account for the promise of Jesus’s coming resurrection which made a way for Peter, James, and John to stand on that mountain without being consumed by God’s perfect judgement. Thus, the Father told Peter to be quiet and to listen to Jesus. But while Peter’s statement arose from a lack of theological awareness, I believe it also arose from the experiential goodness of that moment. Whatever Peter encountered on that mountain was enough to make him forget about the world beneath him.

This Sad World Below

When my dear April died, more than one friend asked me if I found solace in the fact that her death had brought an end to her suffering. In one sense, yes: I’m glad that she is no longer shivering in pain and rejoice that she is with Christ for he is a far better husband than I ever was. Even in death, God is faithful. (For a fuller discussion on the gracious nature of death click here)

But in another sense, “no.” By itself, such knowledge has often proved an inadequate antidote to the daily struggles of grief that have swirled about. Neither April nor I was longing for her release from this world but rather for her renewed health.

While April has been perfected, I still inhabit a world defined by the ethos of those confused disciples and arrogant pharisees who choose to argue the finer points of theology at the base of the mount of transfiguration and to ignore the demon-possessed child who was convulsing at their feet. In other April’s exaltation to the mountain above has not improved my status down below. I still wrestle with insecurities, failures, and limitations. And where once I could lean into my helpmate for comfort and support, I must now (in one sense) walk alone, managing laundry, meal schedules, band aide dispensing, sermon prep, and all the other things that come with being a single parent and a pastor. In short, her deliverance from trials has brought about the most trying season of my life. As J.C. Ryle noted, “We should not weep from them, but for ourselves…better are the dead in Christ than the living!”

Hope for All of us

Admittedly, my experiences are not unique to me or to widowhood. All who follow Christ will experience hardships of one kind or another. A quick survey of NT analogies reveals that God had connected the Christian life to professions such as soldiering, farming, and running – occupations that require fortitude and that offer no holidays. Similarly, Jesus’s parables talk not about ‘if’ but rather about ‘when’ the storms of life will come. In other words, to follow Christ is to embrace the sufferings of Christ and the storms of this world. While God is faithful and those who follow Christ receive all kinds of good gifts as they wait at the base of the mountain, the end goal is not a better below but heaven above. Until Christ returns, the world beneath will forever and always be marred by brokenness, sorrow, and death.

Borrowing the metaphor of sailing, the Puritan John Flavel restated the idea this way,

You are yet rolling and tossing upon a tempestuous sea, but your friend is gone into the quiet harbor; desire to be there than he were at sea with you again.

Friends, the destination, the final hope for the believer is heaven…the mountain where we tabernacle with God forever. Our hope is not so much that someone has left this world (though praise God for the hope of their salvation) but rather that we too one day will get to sail into that harbor upon the winds of grace.

In Conclusion

So back to the earlier question. I would answer, “Yes, but there is an even greater hope.” For you see, I find little comfort in reflecting upon the end of April’s suffering as I scrub fingerpaint off the couch and figure out how to parent the devious and yet very cute little culprit. In those moments, I find hope in the truth that whatever Peter, James, and John saw in-part on that mountain, I will one day live in full. Come Lord Jesus!