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I sat near the back of the sanctuary as the soloist made his way to the stage before the service began. He looked to be around 16, had dark curly hair and a preoccupied expression on his face. He sat down behind a music stand, adjusted his music, and gently placed his bass guitar on his lap.
Then, accompanied only by the gentle thump of his guitar, he sang the familiar song "The Little Drummer Boy." You probably know the song. It's about a little boy who visits the newborn Jesus. Realizing that he has no gift to honor this baby king, this child-Redeemer, the boy offers what he does have: the gift of his ability. He asks if he can play a drum solo. My heart was moved as the soloist sang the final lines of the song, where the baby Jesus responds to the drummer boy's gift: I played my best for him … then he smiled at me. I don't know if he realized it, but in many ways, this singer demonstrated the beautiful truth of this story. He wasn't wearing a fancy Christmas suit or even a special tie—he was humbly dressed in a baggy sweater and khakis. His voice was soft and a little tentative, like it had just changed and he was still figuring it out. He looked down at his music the whole time. When the song was over, he didn't seem to notice the quiet applause that spread across the sanctuary. Instead, he simply gathered his music and walked to the back of the stage so the choir could file in. I was moved by his humility, by his gentle, quiet spirit. This simple, tentative rendition of the song was his gift to God, tenderly rendered. It was beautiful. And it was enough. The Bible doesn't mention the story of the little drummer boy. As far as we know, this story isn't true in the literal sense of the word. But the writer of this beautiful song knew a deeper truth: that God is pleased when we give him our best. Think of what the songwriter was trying to convey—who plays a loud, clattering, startling, ear-assaulting drum solo as a gift to a baby? But it came from a pure heart. And the smiling Christ-child sensed the purity of the young man's heart and responded with his own gift—the beaming face of God, the approval and gratitude of the tightly-swaddled Almighty. Thank you. That was beautiful. What you brought Me was enough. In many ways, Jesus was kind of like the drummer boy, and like the soloist I saw at church. Isaiah 53:2 says Jesus wasn't beautiful or stunning or especially majestic—that he had "no beauty of majesty in his appearance to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him." In fact, a lot of people missed the chance to get to know Jesus, because he seemed so ordinary. But he was God's extraordinary gift, someone who came to wear a body like we do, to have a heart that knew abandonment, loneliness, betrayal and pain. He came to be bruised and misunderstood, to take a punishment beyond what our human hearts and bodies could withstand. He came to bring forgiveness and joy and peace and healing and hope and the promise of a perfect eternity. My hope is that sometime during the rush and excitement of this season you'll have an experience like the one I had during that song. I hope that you'll see or hear something that makes your heart quiet itself and overflow the way mine did. That you'll have a humble moment when you can offer a silent prayer to God: Thank you. You are beautiful. What you gave us is more than enough. Learning to listen, LaTonya
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