Peter Witkowski Memos

Memo: Witkowski Apple Engagement Announcement

When the darkness of April’s death swept across my soul, all but the tiniest pinpoint of hope disappeared. Everything hurt. Everything from the writing of my dissertation to the microwaving of chicken nuggets for the millionth time was marred with bitterness. Though I knew God to be all wise, all good, and all powerful, my circumstances much like Job’s seemed to tell a different story. The pain stung so deeply, I longed for the escape granted to many a faithful martyr. But I knew that was not to be my path for God had called me to care for my children and my church family. Many a late afternoon, I would walk between the deserted pews of my church audibly questioning the Lord. I could not see how anything good or profitable could come from such pain, such sorrow, or such brokenness.

During that season, a kind, old professor after discerning my intent to remarry remarked with subtle confidence, “God will do something really good for you Peter.” I too had read Ephesians 3:20, and intellectually assented to his sentiment. But I could not imagine how that could be…how darkness could ever give way to light.

In time, I once again began charting a course through that strange and rocky land known as “Christian dating.” Though I encountered many a godly woman worthy of respect and admiration, none of their hearts contained the providential contours needed to transform two into a unified whole. Discouraged, I defaulted to that thing which I should have done more of all along. I prayed.

And as I sought divine wisdom about how to proceed, I sat down to a farewell luncheon with a faithful colleague and friend. Somehow or other (and to be fully transparent – much to my liking), the conversation turned into a review of my dating life. The friend then encouraged me to consider one more name, Jenny Apple. As we reviewed her LinkedIn profile and my friend described how Jenny’s range of character enabled her to do everything from serve on executive boards to bounce babies on her knee, a wave of pure joy swept through my soul. More than ever before, I knew I needed to ask that beautiful woman out.

And so, off went my first message to Ms. Apple…albeit somewhat apprehensively. I had learned long ago not to trust my emotions, even when they were informed by prayer. But when I met Jenny that first Saturday in March for a casual conversation over coffee and discovered that she had read Grudem’s Systematic Theology in its entirety, possessed a heart for people, and was attempting to visit all 32 major league baseball stadiums, I knew my emotions were properly ordered. By the end of our second date during which we covered our philosophy of family and her love for the Ravens, and host of other things, I came to believe that Ms. Jenny Apple was something special…something uniquely and gloriously good!

Over the next several months as we climbed mountains, met family, and went to church together, my impression gave way to a settled determination to marry her…a determination also shared by my dear children. The night they first met Ms. Jenny, one of my kiddos lacking the word for ‘proposal’ dropped down on one knee (thankfully out of Jenny’s view) and said, “Dad, you know… you should do this tonight.” Though I did not propose that night and have had to warn my kiddos against proposing on my behalf on multiple occasions, I too share their admiration for the amazing Ms. Jenny!

Jenny possesses a generosity of spirit, a humbleness of character, and a sharpness of mind that makes her a jewel beyond value. To converse with her is to converse with that joyful wisdom that can only be found in the deep well of biblical knowledge and faithfulness. She also possesses a seriousness that can engage the most complex of interpersonal issues and a playfulness that enables her to connect with kids as jump waves and build sandcastles at beach.

Perhaps most marvelous of all, divine providence has shaped the contours of her heart in such a way that they fit perfectly into the boundaries of my soul. As I have stepped into Jenny’s world and she into mine, we have both at felt home. Indeed, few things feel as gloriously right as spending a day with her walking about Capitol Hill or having her curl up with the kiddos for family movie night. The kind, old professor was right, God is do something really good for me. He is cementing my heart to Jenny’s!

Wise king Solomon once said that “He who finds a wife finds a good thing and obtains favor from the Lord (Prov. 18:22).” I can joyfully say I have found such goodness and favor in the glorious Jenny Apple. I love this beautiful woman without qualification or nuance!

Operating on this knowledge, I did what biblical reason, wisdom, and love demanded: I asked the amazing Ms. Jenny to marry me while kayaking the Shenandoah River on Sunday, August 25, 2024.

 I am happy to report that she said, “Yes!”

We are engaged to be married!

For more information on the Apple Witkowski wedding visit our Knot page.

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!

Peter Witkowski Memos, Pain & Suffering

5 Weeks Later: A Postscript to April’s Death

The last few weeks have been hard…unbelievably hard. During the last weeks of her life, I told April many times that my heart would forever contain a purple stain. Having lost a son four hours after his premature birth and having buried my own father not too long ago, I thought I knew something of the scars that wound the human heart. But when I awoke on June 26 to a world that no longer contained my purpley person, I experienced a penetrating and soul crushing grief unlike anything I had ever encountered. My heart had not been wounded. It had been severed…wrecked at its core.

The night before, April had been my everything…the source of my earthly happiness and the marrow that infused hope into my future. Even as she slipped into an unconscious state on the evening of the 24th, our marriage was real. Memories of vows, first dances, and nights alone rightly informed my vision for tomorrow. Hope, however precarious, still remained. Relationship existed. Her soft inhale and exhales and the touch of her warm hand brought comfort to my heart. But the moment that she turned cold, I was alone. What had been the most fundamental and essential essence of my life was became but a memory – a treasure chest of joys and wisdom to be stewarded well- but still a lifeless memory. Life to death. Hope to tragedy. Whole to less than whole.

Though my grief is profound, I know that all that has transpired is no tragedy for my dear bride. She has exchanged her frail body for one of eternal peace and her flawed husband for the perfect love of Christ. Though I know her desperate wish and prayer was to stay with me and our children and though I affirm that her love for us still resides within her heavenly heart- albeit a perfected love, I cannot wish her back to this troubled planet. I cannot ask her to exchange Christ’s headship for mine. She has achieved her end. She is glorifying God and perfectly enjoying him forever. Her joy is complete.

And yet, mine remains hidden by hidden a glass covered by shadows.  

In the hours after her death, an unsettling silence settled over our home. As I wandered are room alone, I could not help but fill that forsaken space with the simply cry of, “Where are you?” Though I asked the question often, no reply came. All those pictures that she valued so much just coldly stared backed at my tear-stained face. I miss her. Ten years ago when I stumbled into April at Southern Seminary, I found in her something far greater than any ruby or diamond. Though she has gained all, I have lost the companionship, the wisdom, and the affections of this woman worth more than gold.

These last weeks, I have found a new affection for Paul’s sentiment in Philippians 1:23 which says,

“My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better (Phil 1:23).”

I long for Christ…for the joys that my dear April knows well. Life is hard. Oh, what faith it takes to say, “The Lord gives, and the Lord takes away, blessed be the Lord.”

The Path Forward

Though no prophet or son of a prophet, I suspect my life is not close to its end. At the very least, I know God has not called me to prepare for death as much as he has called me to prepare for and to minister to my children and to my church family. As Paul notes in the next verse in Philippians 1, “But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account.” Thus, I will cherish the days ahead. I will navigate the dark alley ways of doubt and the swamps of sorrows, knowing that my savior will hold me fast. As the Psalmist says,

“When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers them out of all their trouble. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit (Ps 34:18).”

Though hard and emotionally complex, the path forward possesses a spiritual simplicity that even the youngest of believers can easily recognize. God asks nothing special of me during this season. He calls me to trust his wise, loving, and all-powerful character. Then, he commands me to live out the gospel within my local church context, attending to the things that he has called me to such as preaching and loving my children well. In short, I am to love the Lord my God with all my heart soul, mind, and strength and my neighbor as myself.

When April and I lost our first-born son, we found simple obedience to be the surest pathway to hope. Even as she and I grappled with her cancer over the last three years, our souls were forever and always reinvigorated by ministry. The very act of caring for our neighbor in the midst of our sorrows often brought us the divine perspective and hope that our hearts needed to make sense of the very pain that only hours earlier had tempted us to withdraw from the community of faith. If I will but obey Christ in the minutia of life as I suffer, hope will come. As Paul wrote,

“Suffering produces character which leads to the hope of Christ that never disappoints (Rom. 5:2-5).”

With this in mind, I have resumed working on my dissertation, returned to the church office, and reascended the pulpit. The pathway to restoration is beautifully simple.

As I traverse the many ups and downs of this path of grief over the next months, I know there will be many more tears…some anticipated – such as the first full week of school – and some not so much. Life will continue to hurt for a time. And I fully suspect some sorrows will not fully healed until the other side of heaven. But I also know there will be new joys…new relationships…new and increasing evidences of grace in my life, in the lives of my children, and in my church family. Christ promises of abundant life have not grown stale. The God who knew April would live but 39 years and ordained that I would have the blessed joy of being her husband (of being one with her) for 9.5 of those years still loves me. The valley of Bacca will once again flow with the streams of hope. By God’s mercy, I will go from strength to strength (Psalm 84:5-7). The clouds will lift. Joy will come in the morning, and I will praise him again.

I greatly appreciate your prayers for me and my family as we continue walk through this valley.  

May God be merciful!