What The Pastor Saw

When the music died

I started playing the guitar at the age of 13 when I saw an older boy playing and wanted to be able to make music myself. So I saved up my pocket money, went off to a music store, and bought the cheapest guitar there. It was a terrible instrument that sounded like strings stretched over a tin can, but I loved it. I figured out how to play three chords, but then a kindly adult explained that my guitar was totally out of tune and that I needed to learn to tune it. So I started again and quickly mastered most of the basic chords and strum techniques.

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In my late teens, I started a rock band with some school friends and played lead on a powder blue Hoffner solid-body guitar. At the age of thirty, the same year I became a follower of Jesus Christ, I decided to learn classical, bought a suitable instrument, and enrolled for lessons. Within a few years I was quite proficient and enjoyed playing – I even composed my own pieces and performed occasional recitals at church functions. However, the church’s need at that time was for a worship leader, not a classical musician, and so I bought an Ovation guitar and from then on focused on rhythm accompaniment.

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From the age of about 50 arthritis struck both hands and playing became increasingly difficult. But I still loved music and often listened to records (remember them) featuring great guitarists, classical and other types of music. Our local church now had the joyful service of some very competent musicians and worship leaders, and so my Ovation joined the YaIri classical guitar to collect dust in the cupboard.

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About four years ago one of our musicians set up a workshop for beginners. She offered drum, piano, and guitar lessons and asked me to run the guitar workshop. Half way through the first session my hands were so painful that I put the guitar down; “I am so sorry folks but I just can’t go on; I am in too much pain”. I drove home that evening in deep distress; I felt as though something precious had been taken from me or like I had lost a limb. Something very sad happened that night. Music died in my soul. It was probably a coping mechanism, but from that night on I blotted music from my life. I no longer played, or listed to music. I sang in church, but that was all.

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Christmas time a year ago all our worship leaders were away and most of the other musicians were also on holiday. There was nobody to lead the church services; what could we do? I prayed earnestly and felt the Holy Spirit urging me to rise to the challenge and lead the worship myself. So I prayed; “Lord, if this is what you want me to do then you will need to do something miraculous to my hands and musical memory.” I have to tell you that for a few years I had been taking vitamin and mineral supplements and, although still uncomfortable, my hands were no longer constantly painful. I took my Ovation out of the cupboard, cleaned it up, re-tuned it… and started to play. Of course, my left-hand fingertips were tender because I had not played for such a long time, but I could shape the chords and I could strum quite adequately. I was amazed and so very grateful!

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One of my retirement projects is to become skilled once again on the classical guitar and also the piano. I started practising a couple of months ago and am making good progress. In fact, I am so encouraged that I am in the process of acquiring a quality classical guitar so I can retire the old YaIri and move on to a new musical level. I have unearthed my old classical scores and the tunes I composed 35 years ago… and I am greatly enjoying playing! What was once dead has come alive again! Isn’t that just what God loves to do?

 

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Deliverance

There is a school just to the North of where I live that started out as a simple farm school but is now large and thriving. In its very early years we, the Village Church, were asked to come and lead Tuesday afternoon Bible studies for the learners. Opposition immediately sprung up among both the teaching staff and some parents. In response we decided to take a team out there on a Sunday afternoon to pray.

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I was the only guitarist in our little church at that time so I took my twelve-string and we marched around the area singing and praying. Some very impoverished families lived on the farm that housed the school and alcohol was a major problem for them. Yet, despite their partying and brawling the music attracted many and soon there was quite a crowd gathered around us.

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This seemed like a great opportunity to preach the Gospel so I laid the guitar down and took up my Bible. As I started to preach a large woman in the crowd fell face down in the dust and started undulating across the ground like a snake, hissing loudly. Some of our tender hearted ladies thought she was ill and rushed to help her, but I instructed them to back off. I walked over to the woman and simply declared; “Demon, in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth I command you to leave this woman!” She writhed, hissed, coughed, blinked, and sat up looking both surprised and relieved.

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Suddenly, every eye was fixed on me as I stepped back and continued preaching. I gave an invitation to repent and believe and dozens stepped forward for prayer. Hallelujah!

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Now what were we going to do with these people who had responded? Right there and then we decided to establish a Sunday afternoon congregation at the school. We announced it right away and the next Sunday many of the local folk attended… and the woman who had been delivered of a demon was the first one there!

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The opposition to our Tuesday Bible studies ceased from that day onwards and later the church management erected a sign at the gate to the school which read ‘To God be the glory’. The congregation lasted for several years but then the local authorities relocated the families in the area to a township where a number of churches already existed. We still work with the school and the sign still stands at the gate – to God be the glory.

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An exception that proves the rule

“For I desire mercy, not sacrifice, and acknowledgment of God rather than burnt offerings”. Hosea 6:6

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When Zelda and her husband first attended our services I thought that they were potential trouble. They seemed so focused on what was happening that it was as if they were evaluating and even judging us. I was wrong. They soon revealed themselves as lovely people devoted to Jesus and eagerly seeking a church home in our area. When their first child was born I had the joyful task of blessing her as part of a Sunday service. While the parents were still up front with their baby daughter an elderly lady stood up and prophesied over the child. I can’t remember exactly what she said but it was about how God loved this child and that she would worship Him from a young age.

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Sometime later the little family set off with Zelda’s parents for a holiday in the Cape. She was now pregnant with her second daughter. After her husband Hilton had completed the Argus cycle race they left to return to Johannesburg. Before getting into the car some hours before dawn they joined hands and prayed for safety and ‘traveling mercies’.

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Dawn was breaking by the time they approached Bloemfontein and they were in good spirits. Suddenly, for reasons still not known, Hilton lost control of the car and they had a terrible accident. Both he and Zelda’s mother were killed on impact.

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A long hall truck driver was approaching them on his way to Johannesburg and he stopped and helped them. A doctor, travelling in the opposite direction also stopped and drove Zelda, her father and her baby daughter to the nearest hospital. The child had sustained severe injuries and died in her arms on route. Her father’s limbs were broken in several places but miraculously Zelda came through the terrible experience with hardly a scratch, and her unborn child was unharmed.

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As a church community we were stunned. How could this have happened?! Had words of hope and blessing not been spoken over this precious child, and now she was dead?! Had the family not prayed for protection before they set off on that terrible trip?!

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As the details of that traumatic morning started to emerge it became clear that God had not abandoned that little family. Not only had a doctor been driving by when it happened but a local pastor had rushed to their aid and taken special care of them. Our young mother had received a peace that definitely passed all understanding, a grace that enabled her to live through those early hours and days with faith and supernatural calm.

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In the weeks following the accident her husband’s best friend Robbie took a special interest in her and became a strong arm that she could depend on. He too was a disciple of the Lord Jesus but his life was pretty messed up. He was dealing with substance dependence, anger issues and financial problems. He was her physical support and she became his haven of peace and faith. It didn’t take long for their relationship to develop into genuine love.

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They came to see me one day to tell me that he had moved into her house. They were determined that they wanted to be good witnesses and bring glory to God but they were adamant that they desperately needed to be together at that time. She was having terrible flash-backs of the accident and would wake up at night in great distress. He needed to be there for her and he also needed her strength of character and faith to get through his own ‘dark night’. They said that they understood that, as their pastor, I would not approve of them staying together, but would I please have compassion and not shun them in any way. They needed Jesus, they needed each other, and they needed the church family. They stated their intention to get married when they felt that their lives were more stable and their emotional wounds healed. I believed them. I assured them that not only would I not shun them but would stand with them and explain, to anyone who enquired, that they had my blessing. Foolish by conventional church standards? Perhaps it was, but I had a deep sense that this is what Jesus would do.

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A month later her child was born, and they were married soon after. I had the privilege of officiating at their marriage ceremony at their home. Shortly after this they moved down to the coast and soon had another daughter of their own. It is now 22 years later and they are still happily married and serving God. For years now they have been running a house church from their home. Together they pastor a couple of dozen believers. Their daughters have grown into beautiful young women who love Jesus and their parents.

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Did I do the right thing in sanctioning and defending their ‘cohabitation’? She told me some time later that she doesn’t know how she would have survived if she had been confronted with a choice between her church family and the support of her friend, and now husband. Would I do it again? Yes. Some will quote scripture at me, although strangely enough no one did at that time. I am still full of admiration for their commitment to each other, to the Lord Jesus, and to the spirit and intent of His written Word.

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I guess that grace is the exception that proves the rule.

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Names used with permission

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Bridus Interuptus

The venue was a natural heritage site just outside Johannesburg. The bride was a feisty German lady and the groom a rather docile English man. I was the officiating marriage officer. The chapel had been rigged out to look like something from the hippie sixties, complete with bales of hay instead of chairs and flowers strewn all over the floor. However, despite the informal décor and atmosphere, the bride wanted the wedding service to be by the book and very formal.

About half way into the service someone’s cell phone started ringing. The bride stopped me in my tracks with an imperiously raised hand and turning to the congregation she said; “Ve vill switch off our cellphones, jah!” Then she swept the room with such a penetrating glare that even the guests who didn’t have cellphones scrabbled in their handbags or pockets to instantly comply. Silence restored, she turned to me and declared imperiously; “you may proceed, jah!”

A few minutes later we got to the bit where the man turns to his bride and pronounces the covenant vow to love her in sickness and in health, and so on. Just as he started … a cellphone began to ring. The bride stepped away from him and rounded on the congregation, eyes flashing and finger raised accusingly. Slowly she fixed one guest after the other with a steely stare, but as she did so my eye was drawn to the groom. His face was crimson and his hand was creeping hesitantly towards his trouser pocket. Yes, it was his phone a-ringing! Poor man; ve vill not tell what she said to him after the ceremony.

So why am I telling you this story? What’s the moral here? I don’t know; just draw your own conclusion. I just found the whole incident hilarious and wanted to share my delight with you.

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The night I appeared on TV … but didn’t

 

Over the years of ministry I have witnessed many wonderfully supernatural ‘things’, but the story I will now tell you has to be right up near the top of my list. It is about a dear lady who has been part of our church family for a long time now, but it’s not just about her, it’s about God’s incredible love. I use the word ‘incredible’ because what happens defies common sense and stretches our view of how the world works. I have used her real name, with her permission, because I want those of you who know her to be able to verify the accuracy of this story.

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I was at home alone when the phone rang and a lady introduced herself as Anne Brown. Her voice was quiet and lifeless as she told me of how her husband had left her. A few minutes before he had walked out the door leaving her and their children broken and lost. So please would I come over at once and pray for her. I had no recollection of her being a regular visitor to our church services but my heart went out to her. However, there was a problem; my wife Pat was out at that time and I was not prepared to visit a woman, let alone a distraught woman, alone. I explained this to Anne but before I could tell her that we would come to her just as soon as Pat returned she said; “Well if it’s too much trouble then don’t worry”…. and she put the phone down! I was devastated. I had no idea how to contact her. What would I do? Just then Pat came home and I explained what had happened. Then I did something totally irrational. I picked up the phonebook and opened it to the start of the section listing all the Brown’s. Do you know how many Brown’s there are in the Johannesburg telephone directory?! I knew her first name was Anne but I assumed that the number would be listed under her husband’s initials. I prayed with simple faith; “Please Lord, show me which number to dial” and let my finger move down the long list of names. I don’t know why it stopped where it did, but I picked up the phone and dialled the number it indicated. Anne answered!

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She gave me her address and Pat and I went to visit. She told a heart-breaking story of her upbringing, marriage, and abandonment. When she had finished, and before we prayed together, I asked; “How come you phoned me in particular Anne?” She immediately explained that she didn’t know any pastors in the area but had seen me on television when they broadcast our evening service just a few days ago. I was lost for words. At that stage we did not have an evening service, none of our services had been filmed, and I had never been on national television!

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Isn’t God amazing!? I cannot even begin to imagine how He pulled it off! Anne soon joined our church family and is to this day a loved and involved member. A few years ago I asked her to think back and tell me honestly if she could have been mistaken. But no, it was all true – it happened just as she had said it did. What is impossible for us is well within God’s ability… after all, He is… God.

 

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About Me

My name is Christopher Peppler and I was born in Cape Town, South Africa in 1947. While working in the financial sector I achieved a number of business qualifications from the Institute of Bankers, Damelin Management School, and The University of the Witwatersrand Business School. After over 20 years as a banker, I followed God’s calling and joined the ministry full time. After becoming a pastor of what is now a quite considerable church, I  earned an undergraduate theological qualification from the Baptist Theological College of Southern Africa and post-graduate degrees from two United States institutions. I was also awarded the Doctor of Theology in Systematic Theology from the University of Zululand in 2000.

Four years before that I established the South African Theological Seminary (SATS), which today is represented in over 70 countries and has more than 2 500 active students enrolled with it. I presently play an role supervising Masters and Doctoral students.

I am a passionate champion of the Christocentric or Christ-centred Principle, an approach to biblical interpretation and theological construction that emphasises the centrality of Jesus

I have been happily married to Patricia since the age of 20, have two children, Lance and Karen, a daughter-in-law Tracey, and granddaughters Jessica and Kirsten. I have now retired from both church and seminary leadership and devote my time to writing, discipling, and the classical guitar.

If you would like to read my testimony to Jesus then click HERE.