"This God made the world and everything in it. He is Lord of heaven and earth, and he doesn't live in temples built by human hands. He doesn't need help from anyone. He gives life, breath, and everything else to all people." (Acts 17:24–25)
The Christmas story is filled with familiar faces: shepherds keeping watch by night, magi traveling from the east, an innkeeper who had no room, and even King Herod with his cruel decree. But over the years, a new figure has found his way into our imaginations—the little drummer boy.
Though not part of the biblical story, the little drummer boy, introduced in the popular song first recorded in 1955, captures something deeply true about our experience of faith.
The song tells a simple story. The magi invite a young drummer to join them on their journey to see the newborn King. When they arrive, the boy realizes he has nothing worthy to offer. He’s poor and empty-handed—except for his drum. So, he asks, “Shall I play for you?” Mary nods, and the boy plays his best. And in the end, the baby Jesus smiles.
It’s a humble picture, but it rings true. The little drummer boy reminds us of something we all know deep down: when we stand before God, we come with empty hands. We see the majesty of Jesus, and we realize just how inadequate we are.
We’ve all been the little drummer boy. We’ve all felt the weight of our own shortcomings, wondering what we could possibly offer to the King of Kings. But here’s the good news: Jesus doesn’t ask us for riches or perfection. He invites us to bring whatever we have, even if it feels small and unworthy.
When we offer him our “drum”—our talents, our time, our love—he welcomes it. He doesn’t need anything from us, but he desires all of us. And when we give our best, no matter how humble, he receives it with joy.
So, as we end our journey through this season of Advent, let’s remember that Jesus isn’t looking for grandeur or perfection. He’s looking for hearts that are willing to offer what they have, trusting that even our simplest gifts can bring him joy.
All I have is this drum.
It starts this way for all of us, you see. I was that little drummer boy, and so were you. Before we can be the magi inviting others to come along, we’re the ones who feel completely inadequate, and in one sense, we always will. If we would see Jesus, and understand his significance, we can’t help but sense our own frailty. All we have is this drum. What in the world could ever be enough for this King? We’ve just got this drum, so we ask, do you want that? Do you want this stupid drum? And he says, Yes, bring your nothing, play the drum.
And so we play it for him, and we play our best for him, declaring that we are small, that we are weak, that he doesn’t need us in the least, but that with all that we are, with every little speck of nothing we have, we are giving it to him. To him.
We know that this King has no lack, that he doesn’t need anything, but that we, because of him, are absolutely, completely, wonderfully his. Me and my drum—all his.
