Me and my drum

I have a sort of love/hate relationship with Christmas music.

I don’t have to tell you what I love about it. It’s the same things everybody loves. The mood, the magic, the spirit, the nostalgia, the poignant strand of faith and belief that runs through everything from Rudolph the Rednose Reindeer to Silent Night.

Here’s what can irritate me a little bit. It seems like there are about 20 or 30 Christmas songs out there. And every artist/musician/band/whatever picks out about ten of them and makes a ‘Christmas album.’ So there are about 50 zillion versions of each of the Christmas songs.

(And there’s all this PRESSURE to start listening to Christmas music beginning at midnight on Black Friday. Because as soon as it’s no longer Thanksgiving, it is, automatically CHRISTMAS. I don’t like being rushed. Can I just have a blankety-blank minute to find my bleeping JOY? Sheesh.)

Every now and then, an artist comes out with an original Christmas song and I love it even if I don’t, just because it’s fresh. It’s new. And somehow that makes it seem more real.

And yet, I am about to confess to being a complete and total hypocrite because 1) I do the exact same thing (I’m writing a different version of the same post from a couple years ago) and 2) I actually love having different versions of my favorite songs to choose from (and this year a new version of an old song sent a Jesus jolt through my entire body).

Here’s what happened:

Tuesday afternoon I was driving home from an errand listening to my Christmas playlist. I had found a version of Little Drummer Boy that I deemed worthy of owning and it came on. And that thing happened that tends to happen when I’m paying attention. It got me.

I played it again and again and again, finally dragging myself away after finishing the last play of it parked in my driveway.

The version I was listening to was by Green River Ordinance. I liked it because it has a nice low rumble of drums in it, more drums than most versions have. And for most of my adult life, I had been just hoping someday someone would record it with big, crashing drums.

I remembered helping plan one of the Christmas services at a church I worked at years ago. I suggested Little Drummer Boy for the contemporary service, telling the music minister (also a drummer) to rearrange it with loud drums and even a big drum solo. He informed me that Little Drummer Boy was not biblical, and that was that. Boooo.

I came inside and allowed the feeling of the song to keep doing its thing. I sat down at my laptop, opened it up and one of my friends had posted the new For King and Country version of my song. I clicked on it and my senses were shocked by the huge, thunderous drums. Before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face as they always do when the room fills with Jesus.

They had done it. They had done it exactly how I had always wanted to hear it, exactly how I MEANT it when I sang along.

Here’s the thing. God has made this song into a message that I need all year round. The kid hears about a newborn King and gets there as fast as he can. He shows up with no gift so he offers to play his drum.

A drum that newborn King put in his hands, with a talent that the newborn King had created him with. The kid is giving back what Jesus had given him, offering it in worship, using it to His glory. #dropmic #nailedit

I think I had always longed for the big drums in the song because a hesitant, timid rhythm might be soothing to a baby, but my Jesus isn’t a (eight-pound, six-ounce) baby anymore. He’s a mighty King, a full-grown resurrected God-man. He doesn’t need a lullaby. He wants a concert.

And from us, His grown drummer kids, He wants the loudest noise we can make. Using our gifts as big and as much and as hard as we can, in His honor and for His glory. And watching those guys bang the living daylights out of those drums gives me the image of what we would all look like if we did our thing with all that we had. That’s what I want. And I know that’s what my Jesus wants.

I spend most of my coaching helping people figure out what they were born to do and get them doing it. Helping them find their drum and get them playing it, if you will. Talk about a labor of love. I NEVER get tired of doing what I do.

Sorting through the ‘tyranny of the urgent,’ all the distractions of life, all the optional (yes, OPTIONAL) busyness, shaking out of life’s maintenance mode and finding out what makes their face light up. And making time for them to do THAT.

Yesterday, I had a full day of coaching. When I went to bed, my throat was raw and sore from talking and I was emotionally drained. But in the best way. I had been pounding my drum for my King all day. I was tired from my efforts, but so fulfilled. And the clients I worked with were one step closer to their purpose. Amen.

I pour everything I’ve got into what I write and the talks I give. (I have been known to delete an entire post before it is published because after reading it, I realized for all that writing, my heart was nowhere to be found. And the last the world needs is more words, just for words’ sake.) Emptying myself and constantly being refilled by the One who never hits a wall, never burns out, never tires, never sleeps, never stops.

Setting my nativity scene up each year is a big deal to me. My aunt handpainted a set for me when I was a baby and gave it to me for Christmas. Mom gave it to me when I graduated from college and I take the whole setting up of it very seriously.

One year I found that a sheep foot had broken off. Another year Baby Jesus got temporarily lost in the piles of tissue paper. (That’s another whole blog post altogether.) Several years ago while Caroline was still adjusting to blended-family life, she informed me a couple years ago that I shouldn’t put the wise men on one side and the shepherds on the other. I should mix them up. Brilliant child. (I’m not crying. YOU’RE crying.)

I looked at my nativity set last night and realized someone was missing. I went upstairs and printed out a picture of a drummer boy and put him near Mary. Had to scoot one of the shepherds back a little, but I don’t think he minded.

The picture I chose is a painting. The clothes on the kid look old fashioned, but not biblical. The drum looks sort of ‘revolutionary.’ I decided I liked that he was outside of the nativity time period.

Because so am I. So are we. We weren’t there that night, but we’re here now. And Jesus lives in the heart of all believers. And every day we have another opportunity to bang our drum.

Here’s something else that song teaches me: Just do it, whatever it is.

Go to the party, whether or not you are wearing the size you want to be wearing.

Have people over even if there are dishes in the sink and the floor needs to be swept.

Take the trip, even if it’s a little out of your price range and make the priceless memories.

Show up with food, even if you’re not the best cook.

Over-tip your server, even if he/she was tired and grumpy.

Give to the charity, even if that means fewer dinners out for you.

Create and keep family traditions, even if you’re dealing with an overworked husband, an exhausted wife, distracted teenagers or moody preteens.

Eat the Christmas dessert (just one!), even if you’re a little heavier than you’d like to be.

Be there for your kids’ holiday celebrations, even if you don’t have makeup on.

Celebrate, even if you’re grieving the loss or wrestling through a personal crisis.

Do not wait for things to be perfect. Bring what you have. Work with what you’ve got. Just be there.

While the Little Drummer Boy is not mentioned in the Bible, there are numerous other ‘drummers’ who follow his same philosophy.

The boy who offered his own lunch of fish and bread. Jesus made it enough for 5,000 men, probably even more counting women and children.

The woman who sacrificed possibly her only thing of great value: a jar of expensive perfume. She anointed Jesus with it and while some criticized the waste, He praised her for spot-on priorities.

The widow who gave two copper coins in the midst of wealthy people stroking huge checks for the offering plate and Jesus praised her generosity.

Martha hosting Jesus and His disciples plus all the other guests, even though she was apparently slightly understaffed.

The Hallelujah Chorus is powerful. Little Drummer Boy is personal. Christmas should be a whole lot of both. Each of us should be squeezing ourselves into the nativity scene, bringing whatever we have to offer as a gift and act or worship.

When I look at that drummer boy playing his drum for Baby Jesus, I see myself, doing my thing for my King.

Pa-rum-pa-pum-freakin’-pum.