I have this odd little quirk. Call it crazy. Call it focused. Call it annoying. Call it sanity. Call it my attempt to slow down enough to absorb the message of something that matters in a world where we are bombarded with millions of fake and persuasive images daily.
I leave the TV off, and pick one song to listen to on repeat. All. Day. Long.
It's whatever I need to hear on that particular day, and it works for me. The music lays the foundation while the lyrics pierce my soul. I find it comforting; freeing for some reason.
Today, my song of choice was The Little Drummer Boy, by Jars of Clay.
I adored the TV special as a child, until the part where the little lamb was run over by the ox cart. But later, as he is healed and dances to the music of the drummer boy, it caused me to melt, every time.
Even back then, I recognized it as the one true Christmas special that had nothing to do with Santa Claus, reindeer, or misfit toys, and found it refreshing. This Christmas special is the only one I remember that focused on giving instead of getting, on Jesus instead of Santa, and on people instead of things.
Today, as I listened to the lyrics, minus the pa rum pa pa pums, I was struck once again by the simpleness of the message of this story.
Come, they told me
A new born King to see
Our finest gifts we bring
To lay before the King
So to honor Him
When we come.
I am a poor boy too
I have no gift to bring
That's fit to give the King
Shall I play for you,
On my drum?
The ox and lamb kept time
I played my drum for Him
I played my best for Him
Then He smiled at me
Me and my drum.
The Little Drummer Boy is a fictional story, but still so very true.
All Jesus asks from us is whatever we have to offer. For this boy who was hurting, it was a song on a drum. Nothing more. Nothing less.
For me, it is my writing. It is all I have to offer; the only way I know to give back in return.
The song says "so, to honor him, we come."
So, I get it now. If I show up, bringing all I have to offer, he will smile at me.