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December 22, 2013

 JESUS, THE WORD, THE SPIRIT, The Song, The Band, The Egos

Concerning the outline, “JESUS, THE WORD, THE SPIRIT, The Song, The Band, The Egos,” I think that this is the proper order in which Christian musicians should think about priorities. There are two reasons that I put “JESUS, THE SPIRIT, THE WORD” in capital letters and “The Song, The Band, The Egos” in lower case. The first is to show that there are two independent forces at work in ministry whether music or any other kind (Let me say here, without any further comment at this point, that “The Song, The Band, The Egos” could be substituted with “The Activity, The Group, The Egos” and the issues would still basically be the same.). These two forces could be identified as “Spirit” and “Flesh,” or for that matter, “Heaven” and “Earth.” Put simply, it is “Him” and then “Us,” notwithstanding the ongoing struggle between “How much is Him” versus “How much is Us.” But there is a real difference, given the vast numbers of genres of music out there in the so-called “secular”world. The caps suggest that Jesus’ or Heaven’s agenda is more important than our own. In the secular world, for the most part, “JESUS, THE WORD, THE SPIRIT” is a non-category.

There is a second reason for showing a difference with caps and lower case: even if “JESUS, THE SPIRIT, THE WORD” were eliminated, those other categories—“The Song, The Band, The Egos”—in the context of any musical group, are still pertinent issues. Those who have played in a band—Christian or otherwise—know how destructive selfish egos can be. This is manifested in issues such as who leads the group, who fronts the group, who gets the credit, who receives special attention (“the spotlight”), even who takes leads in any particular piece, not to mention who receives royalties or controlling interest in a group, basic envy and jealousy of another’s ability, as well as a host of other issues not stated. It is a safe bet to say that “egos” is probably the number one reason that groups do not accomplish anything or stay together for the long haul.

In the secular world, among professional musicians where money and livelihood are at stake, egos are often put aside. Some of these players are willing to swallow their pride and take a back-up role if that means the difference between having a working gig or not. Even if pride is not that much of a significant factor, many, if not most, professionals seem to realize the adage about “the whole being greater than the sum of its parts.” They sense that if the group is successful, they have to put down their own personal differences for the greater good. And yet, I believe that personalities do need to be affirmed as unique individuals, and not just as part of a collective. But priorities must be kept straight.

Benmont Tench, the much sought-after studio musician and regular keyboardist for Tom Petty’s band, The Heartbreakers, once said that the cardinal sin in performance is to draw attention away from the song. The song, or the piece, comes first. The music is intended to enhance the song. Similarly, in effective acting, just as in effective singing, a successful performance is one in which the actor/singer loses oneself in the role or in the words. The performer communicates by conveying the meaning of the song, not by drawing attention to one’s own self. I have witnessed many a performance in which the message communicated is, “My, aren’t I really good?” or “Don’t I have a great singing voice?” I have also seen many attempts—failed attempts, I would say—by well-intentioned performers (usually amateurs) who try to “project” the meaning of the song. This is not so much about drawing attention to oneself, but what it conveys is the attempt by the performer to project. While “trying to project” is not
egotistical in nature, it nonetheless has the effect of drawing attention to one’s self and away from the spirit of the song.

On the other hand, it is certainly possible to project oneself without the egoism. Many years ago in a small club in Winston-Salem I once saw Paul Riddle, original drummer with the then-unknown Marshall Tucker Band (at the time they were just another traveling bar band). At one point during a song he made eye-contact with me and some fellow musicians—he knew that we were players—standing around watching, and he executed a really hot drum lick within the context of what the whole band was doing, then looked over at us and grinned. He seemed to get the biggest kick of just doing it well. It was as if he was saying, “That was pretty good, right?” while not at all suggesting, “Am I not a tremendous drummer?” He did not draw attention away from the song, and he did not draw undue attention to himself. He was simply enjoying and sharing the moment with those whom he knew would appreciate his craft. This is considerably different in that one is taking pleasure in something beyond one’s own self or ability. It is not about the “I” or the “me.” It was so amusing—also very cool—that we laughed out loud because of his selfless joy expressed in his music. A true artist can recognize a great performance without the negative and distracting baggage of pride and ego attached to it. This is not easy to achieve, because it requires not only consummate skill and mastery of the material, but the ability to stand back and look at one’s own work as if one was just another listener or fan. It also requires that one’s ego be really healthy and true.

Someone told me once that true humility is having an accurate understanding of one’s own gifts and graces and not just one’s limitations and shortcomings. An example of false modesty or humility would be that in which the performer is outwardly pretending that the performance is not very good, but inwardly is gushing with pride and self-admiration. This kind of falsity comes in two forms: the first is the kind in which one’s performance is genuinely good, but one in which the performer makes a disingenuous claim that it is not. What this person wants is for others to acknowledge verbally—and publicly—that the performance was in fact outstanding (“Please tell me how wonderful I am and how well I did, and do it in the presence of everyone here.”). The other is the kind in which one’s performance is not good at all, but the performer thinks that it was good and wants to be told that he or she did very well. Many of us have lied to people by telling them that they did well when they did not. Apparently the unflinching, sometimes brutal, self-image-crushing honesty of some of the reality show judges is part of what attracts a television audience. When the judges inform contestants that they have no talent or no business being in the business, in the often unkind manner in which they dispense their “expertise” (Viewers seem to forget, or not to care, that the judges themselves actually are performing, too.), they are doing what we would all like to do but are afraid to do, whether fearing a personal backlash, or out of fear of hurting someone’s feelings. Humility and humiliation really are different ideas. Humility is good; humiliation is not. And people do not need to be humiliated in order to be humbled.

But it almost goes without saying that without humility one cannot effectively minister and mediate the Spirit and presence of Jesus. If this is the goal of Christian ministry of any kind—and I believe that it is—then as John the Baptist said in John 2, “(We) I must decrease, and he must increase.” He has to be at the forefront of all that we do.

 
 

 

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