The Little Drummer Boy

This was presented before Communion on Sunday, December 18, 2005.

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Come, they told me,
A newborn King to see.
Our finest gifts we bring
To lay before the King,
So to honor Him
When we come.

The Little Drummer Boy is absolutely my very favorite Christmas song. It’s a song about worship, worship as it was meant to be: pure, simple, and genuine.

In my own fantasies about the birth of Christ, the little drummer boy so perfectly represents the part I would want to play in that original nativity scene. I imagine the older shepherds, recently dazzled by the angelic chorus, frantically searching their meager possessions for a gift worthy of the Messiah, worried and embarrassed that their gift cannot possibly be worthy enough, rushing off to the little stable in Bethlehem, nervously wondering along the way what they are going to say and what they are going to do when they get there. What could a simple shepherd possibly do or say in the presence of the Salvation of Israel that would be worthy of the occasion?

You see, something I’ve learned in the few years that I’ve been one is that grown-ups worry a lot. Probably about a lot of things that are silly to worry about in the grand scheme of things. So, when I see those Jewish shepherds in the nativity scene of my mind, I see “anxious anticipation”. When I see that little drummer boy, I see awe-struck wonder on his face, like Lucy in Narnia. I see him wading through the sea of legs, carefully making his way to the newborn in the manger to present to Him the simple gift that he is so excited to give.

“Little baby,” says the drummer boy, personally addressing the Creator of the universe as if no one else is present.
“I am a poor boy, too,” he says, unafraid to state the obvious and quick to empathize with this newborn child who seems to belong to a family very much like his own.
“I have no gift to bring that’s fit to give a King. Shall I play for you on my drum?”

At this point there might be snickers among the onlookers.
“Did he say he’s going to bang on his little drum for the Messiah?”
“He’s embarrassing us. Why did we bring him along.”
“Awww. Come on now, give the kid a break. I think it’s kind of cute, and what’s it going to hurt.”

But the little drummer boy is not concerned with the snickers; I’m sure he doesn’t even hear them. He is sharing an intimate moment with his Savior, and nothing else matters to him. Mary nods her approval to the boy, possibly with a suppressed chuckle, but her approval in the matter is only a technicality. He hadn’t actually asked her. And as he pulls out his drum and begins playing with all his heart, it isn’t Mary that he is playing for. And it certainly isn’t the ox and lamb he is playing for (though, for some reason, they find it necessary to keep time).

He is playing for His Lord, lying in the manger, offering Him all that he has to give, his worship. He isn’t playing because he thinks it sounds goods. He isn’t playing because he finds it inspiring. He isn’t playing for his own spiritual edification. He is playing because worship is the natural response when one finds himself in the presence of a Holy God.

The boy and his Creator share an intimate moment while he finishes his hymn to his God.
Pa-rum-pum-pum-pum Rum-pum-pum-pum Rum-pum-pum-pum…

And then, of course, we come to the most charming line of this Christmas song. As we imagine the boy’s eyes locked with the eyes of his Savior, the little drummer boy is granted a beautiful gift that only a handful of people in the history of the world have ever experienced:

Then He smiled at me
Pa-rum-pum-pum-pum

And the boy’s soul must be beaming because he knows what that means, and we understand what the smile means when we hear the song. We understand immediately because in that smile Jesus says something to the boy that we have longed to hear our entire lives. We may have heard him speak it to our souls, but surely nothing compares with being face to face, eye to eye with our Savior and seeing in His smile the words we so very much want to hear: “Your worship pleases me.”

The story touches us so deeply because it vividly describes a moment of precious intimacy between our God and his child centered on a simple and genuine act of worship.

I know the Little Drummer Boy is just a story, but throughout Jesus’ life he continually shared precious moments of intimacy with the children of God. He looked into the eyes of the thief on the cross and said “Today you will be with me in paradise”. He looked into the eyes of sinners thirsty for mercy and said “Your sins are forgiven”. He sat at the table with his closest friends on the night before His death and said “Drink this, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it anew with you in my Father's kingdom.”

This is a spiritual feast we share, not just with each other, but with our Savior Himself. It is an intimate moment of worship where we look into the eyes of our Lord and say “I remember your sacrifice. I love you, and I thank you.” And then He smiles at us.