A Christmas Carol

I had an epiphany. No, that’s not a surgical procedure inappropriate to be spoken of in front of young children. It’s a sudden, intuitive understanding.

It started with a Christmas carol. And no, this isn’t a story about ghosts and Christmas’s past. It’s about a Christmas song I grew up hearing. It’s not a great song. It’s probably not even a good song. But as it was stuck in my mind, my imagination went to work on it.

The Little Drummer boy had no gift that was fit for a king, but he had a drum, so he played his best for Him. Seemingly an innocent song, it reminds me of crayon “drawings” put lovingly on the refrigerator, obviously treasured, not for the merit of the art, but because it came from a little one that’s held dear. There is a part of our relationship with Father God that is like that. He does indeed treasure us and delights in our love for Him.

My epiphany was seeing that same boy fifty years in the future. In my imagination, he was grizzled and worn. But more importantly, he was frantic and bitter. He was still playing his drum for Jesus and Jesus didn’t care. I intuitively knew the story. Jesus had told him to seek His Kingdom. The boy-man continued to play his drum. Jesus had said to care for sick, give to the poor, and be a servant to all. Jesus had said to die to selfish desires. But the drum beat continued all the stronger, now driven by hurt and anger, still trying to get Jesus’ attention.

You’ve probably jumped ahead. You understand why I intuitively knew the story. I see myself. I am childish, thinking that God will like my gift just because I give it. I haven’t understood that older children need to learn to give what is asked, not what they desire to give. I try to give the same gift better, with more devotion, more self-sacrifice, and then become discouraged when it’s not received well. Daddy doesn’t want my finely crafted picture of a pony when he’s told me to pick up my toys.

When I look around, I see others like me. We do not lack right devotion, we lack right direction. We offer what seems good to us, not what is required. We devise plans to serve God rather than praying and seeking what He really would desire. And then we lie awake at night, wondering where God’s blessing is when we’ve worked so hard for Him.

The Message translation puts it well.

Doing things for God is the opposite of entering into what God does for you. (Gal. 3:11)

When you attempt to live by your own religious plans and projects, you are cut off from Christ, you fall out of grace. (Gal. 5:4)

I’m taking off my toy drum, putting away my crayons, and picking up my toys. Daddy said He was waiting, and as soon as I was done, He wanted to take a walk with me.