god

I Played Like John-Paul Miller

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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.

It’s Been a While

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Victor Chininin Buele

I have not made time to write. Perhaps it is because people don’t read. Perhaps it is because I don’t know how to write.

The world burns. I’ve been watching forest fires from a distance for several weeks. A fireman is powerless against the rapid and devastating advance of a line of fire. But it doesn’t mean that he gets to quit. And the fireman is faced with a big question: will he call for help or will he give up? And, while he waits for help, will he fight with all he has?

Four years ago, I am reminded by Facebook, I made a big mistake. I made a decision that changed my family’s trajectory. What was that decision? What I can tell you is that I was tired. A lot of bad choices start with that. I chose to be lazy. I said, I have reasons to trust this one person, so I am going to check out my brain at the door and just go with the flow. I was tired of fighting evil, and I just wanted to sit back and rest. I wanted somebody else to do the fighting for a while. I wanted to follow.

That was a terrible thing to do.

That is most definitely not Great Commission thinking. The Kingdom of heaven is not like that, a man who felt secure in the world but spiritually beaten up, gave up on the idea of doing what His Lord called him to do: make disciples. He checked out his brain at the door and embracing pragmatism and his own fleshly desire for convenience did what the others were doing.

What is Great Commission following and thinking?

[18] And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. [19] Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, [20] teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:18-20).

It means that we follow Jesus and not man.
It means that all authority is His, not man’s.
It means that all authority is derivative. If it doesn’t find its origin, purpose, calling, and empowerment in Christ, it is not legitimate authority.
It means that His authority is over everything. That I am not the Lord of my choices and my calling.
It means that making disciples is the goal, not studying the Lord and His Word as if it were an intellectual hobby or merely as an academic pursuit. It means reflecting on how to help disciples know the Lord, not just turn on the firehose of an expository sermon at them without regard for whether they are living and loving the Word and the Lord revealed in that Word. It means not equating “healthy doctrine” with healthy discipleship. You can say the right words but be in great sin.
It means that we actually have to evangelize and proclaim the truth of the gospel, not manipulate emotions and desires to produce baptisms as if changing the heart is something we can do with the right prayer or the right argument.
It means actually going. How much of Christianity today is about staying put, using the Word as an excuse and reason to not obey the Great Commission. About seeking our on comfort and goals, our own interests and pleasures. About not being uncomfortable.
It means teaching all that Jesus taught us. And to teach without hypocrisy, we actually have to do these things ourselves.
It means resting in the Lord who has promised the gift of His presence with the believer. Who else is going to be with you when persecution comes, when things get harder instead of easier, when loss for His name strikes.

[15] And he said to them, “Go into all the world and proclaim the gospel to the whole creation” (Mark 16:15).

It means that going into all the world is not a question. It means we are not to shelter in the safety of our homes, groups, or church buildings. It means we cannot be ingrown, using Jack Miller’s accurate description of many churches.
It means that we go out with a message: the gospel. In Mark that message is taken back to 1:15. The Kingdom of heaven has come near to us. What do we do with that? We repent and believe the gospel.
It means we must live repentance. Repentance is the tune of the life of the believer. Imagine if our churches would smell like repentance.

[46] and said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, [47] and that repentance for the forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. [48] You are witnesses of these things (Luke 24:46-48).

It means that suffering is in store for us. Our Savior suffered to give us eternal life. Why do we treat the Christian life as the preservation of comfort and the delusion of our security?
It means that it is resurrection life. We were bought back from the dead. We were dead in our sins of trespasses. We want others to also be free. And we must never subject ourselves to slavery to sin again.
It means not only that our lives are to be constantly full of repentance but that we proclaim this repentance to the world. This would go a long way in destroying these cultures of permissiveness and secrecy, self-protection and deceit, that we talk ourselves into saying that we are protecting the reputation of Christ when we are actually protecting our own.
It means that we are witnesses of Christ. It means I must tell the truth. It means I must tell you that even as I was writing this, I needed to repent of sin and ask for forgiveness.

What a Savior!