Victor Chininin Buele

The moment I heard on The Death of a Pastor’a Wife a clip of this man John-Paul Miller playing the piano “at church,” my mind went back to those days when I used to play just like he did. Pridefully.

At some point, I didn’t know that I was a proud young man. God gifted me with the ability to recognize sounds and to hear music as if were a language. If I hear it, I can play it. I misused that gift to shame and ridicule those who didn’t have the same gift. But, being honest, I wasn’t initially aware that other people didn’t experience music the same way. So, that’s the first stop in this adventure to find my pride in this: life before and after recognizing that others weren’t like me.

A characteristic of a prideful person is an elevated sense of self-importance. You can see how having a gift that is not usual in most people can play to that. I must admit that at this stop in the journey, the realization of being special didn’t keep me from pride. Recently somebody told me I’ve always been prideful. Such an observation has its roots in these very early days of my pride. I hurt people back then. And some of them still can’t see me as being different now. Pride has life-long consequences. This mixed with a bountiful serving of “high self-esteem” was a terrible justification for me to live pridefully and openly so.

Somewhere along the journey, I came to know Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. Part of that came through my participation in worship and service at one of the largest and growing mega churches in my region. One of the reasons I went to that church was the music. These guys knew how to play. The musical quality was fantastic. And they were very creative: old hymns blended with fresh arrangements in a way I never thought it was possible. I was so happy. I had found a place where I felt comfortable.

The keyboard player didn’t come for a few weeks. The keyboards were on stage, but nobody played them. So, a few weeks in, I walked up front after the service to talk to the singer and guitar player of the band. I had no idea this guy was one of the pastors of the church.

Nervously, I introduced myself, emphasizing my studies in piano and vast list of churches in Northwest Missouri where I had played piano or organ in the past. He asked me who I was. I repeated myself. He explained he didn’t ask for my resume. He wanted to know if I was in Christ. I couldn’t give an answer. That meant that I wasn’t. I was there to consume their music, not to worship God.

That’s where my second stop in this trip starts: confronted with a paradigm that didn’t fit my presuppositions about music at church, what would I do? This pastor would not allow me to play the piano. Or more accurately in my mind, perhaps, why wouldn’t he not be ecstatic to have me join his amazing band, for free?!? Didn’t he know what a great pianist I am?

He clearly stated to me that to put me up front would communicate to the church that the church is affirming that I am a sincere Christian, in fellowship with the Body, and that I am both a safe person and a person worthy of imitation in Christian character. I couldn’t explain what the gospel was. There was no way that this man would allow me to touch, much less play, those keyboards.

I walked away frustrated and angry. But I agreed to attend their gospel class. I remember walking out of one of the classes with my index finger raised up as so many would know I do, speaking to the heavens: “I refuse to believe in THAT god.”

Next Sunday morning, this pastor sang a song based on 1 John. And God helped me make a mental connection during that song that I hadn’t made before. I liked that song. It was written skillfully. But I abhorred its lyrics. Until I figured out that those words came straight from the Bible. That’s when I surrendered to the Bible’s authority. It wasn’t this guy’s words. It was from God. I had to surrender my pride to Him.

But I was still prideful. I refused to help with the PowerPoint slides. It seemed something beneath someone with my gifts, both musical and technical. A guy with a job in electronic payments and a pianist sent to work with PowerPoint—that was not a happy place for me.

One day, God crossed my path with a young man who was on his wanting to be Crowder phase. He was an intern at the church and a follower of the lead pastor since his days as a youth pastor. I liked the guy. I was appreciative of how much time he spent arranging and reimagining old hymns and other songs. He also delivered to me the bad news: you are prideful. Why don’t you wait until we hold auditions for the band.

Eventually, somewhere along the way there I actually came to know the Lord. And I understood that humility was going to have to be an unavoidable part of the way forward.

And the day came for Pastor J, the worship pastor, to listen to me play with the band. The audition was at the Hanley Road Baptist Church. They had a baby grand piano. I was so happy to finally have this opportunity. I gave it my all. That means that I played just like the now-infamous-thanks-to-Netflix-and-his-great-sin John-Paul Miller.

And J said no. No way. Thank you but no.

I had waited. I had jumped through the hoops. I had submitted myself to who I saw as a kid in the process. For nothing!

And that no is one of the best things that ever happened to me. Later, this young man, whose name also starts with a J, would shepherd me through a process of discovery and repentance. I was playing pridefully, I was a one-man show, I didn’t listen to others. I didn’t stay within one of the many ranges of the piano. I wanted to show off and not to give the glory to God. And that was symptomatic of greater sin in my heart.

Had Pastor J1 originally not told me no, had I not heard the no from Pastor J2, and had I not submitted to young man J to open up my heart to kill pride, who knows to what levels my sin would have penetrated my soul and hurt and harmed others.

Then, one day, J said that he thought that maybe I would be ready for me to come play with the band during rehearsal and see. No promises. And I packed my keyboard and came to church. I was presented with the chord charts. And I remember playing D in two octaves, repeatedly in quarter notes for the verses of the hymn. No flashy playing, no arpeggios, no Raúl di Blasio. A guy staying on his lane, not clashing with the guitar or the bass. A guy humbling himself to not attract attention to himself but to the Lord God Almighty. I got to the stage. And I did just that.

And eventually met my good friend JY later. And we would even go on to record a couple of albums of the music that God put in his heart to compose. Not mine. All his. And His.

Am I still a prideful person? I don’t think that pride characterizes me anymore. But a prideful person can easily say that. So, I must always be on alert.

The important point of this is: I could very well be the guy on Netflix had J, J, and J not stopped me when they clearly saw before their eyes what you have seen in your screen.

When we see this stuff, we must act. That’s what the Word calls us to do. We might just be the instruments of God’s redemption and save not just people’s physical lives but their eternal souls as well.