By: Nathan Miller
It’s a joke requiring no punchline: a newborn baby brought into the world in a stable and laid in a manger by His surely exhausted young mother is greeted by an urchin boy pounding on a drum.
The Little Drummer Boy, while one of the most well-known Christmas carols, has fallen out of favor in the age of the internet. Its onomatopoetic lyrics, extra-Biblical storytelling, and poorly-skilled protagonist result in low-hanging fruit for the Christian and non-Christian comedian alike. But does this tiny drummer deserve our derision?
Let’s take a short look at the lyrics to the song (excluding the twenty-one pa-rum-pum-pum-pums), and see if we can figure out why this song became so popular in another era, as well as whether this carol can be redeemed.
“Come, they told me,
A newborn King to see,
Our finest gifts we bring,
To lay before the King,
So to honor Him,
When we come.
Little baby,
I am a poor boy too,
I have no gift to bring,
That’s fit to give our King,
Shall I play for you?
On my drum.
Mary nodded,
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.”
Here we have the wise men, the Magi, from Matthew 2:1-12 coming upon a young boy and inviting him to follow them in worship of the newborn Jesus. They bring their finest gifts to this now incarnate Word, whose arrival had been prophesied and whose birth sounded the death knell of death itself. They offered their gifts out of honor for and recognition of His glory. The boy, too poor to bring gold, frankincense, or myrrh, brings all he has: the ability to play the drum he carries. After gaining permission from the mother, he plays a simple song as well as he can, earning the pleasure of this tiny King.
Make no mistake, this carol carries the gospel in-between its repetitive refrains.
It shows Christ as Worthy of our Worship
These men bring the very best of what they have to a tiny baby. In an age where the birth of a child is heralded on Instagram for months, we certainly should be able to appreciate the magnitude of a birth foretold hundreds of years earlier, not in a hashtag but in a sacred text. He is here. He has arrived. And because the Messiah has finally come, people from all over the world not only rush to His side, but they have such confidence they will be welcome, they bring along an otherwise undesirable little boy.
This carol shows Christ as being worthy of worship by even the wise men, men of evident wealth and power, who are unwilling to keep His glorious presence to themselves. They gather their finest possessions to offer the infant in an effort to give Him the honor they know He deserves. They spread the news of His birth and His kingship to a solitary boy, as far from their social class as another male could possibly be. Christ is worthy of our worship, yes, but He is also worthy of the worship of all who are willing to worship Him. His glory, even as an infant, outpaces His worshippers.
It shows Humanity as Impoverished in His Presence
This tag-along boy comes into the presence of Jesus, and immediately recognizes his inability to properly magnify Jesus’ majesty. He identifies with the lowly state of the newborn, instantly appreciating the humility of the King to clothe Himself in flesh, coming as the first son to a not-yet-married couple from a poor region inhabited by exiles, parents who were forced to deliver Him in a calf’s quarters.
The boy knows there’s nothing he can give the King that is worthy of Him. He knows that before the perfection of the Incarnation he can add nothing to the One to whom belongs the cattle on a thousand hills. Even as he understands there’s no offering he can bring that’s worthy of Jesus, he offers whatever he has. It’s a meager offering. It’s insufficient for the task. But the faith in which it is offered is revealed to be an acceptable posture to receive the forgiveness of God for the mark he has missed.
It shows Jesus as Joyous in His Lordship
The boy plays his drum. It’s a poor solo; no YouTube video of its beat would ever go viral. The boy’s nerves and lack of skill require the musical rhythm of a pack animal and another feeble newborn to keep the tempo. But the boy knows he’s in a place he doesn’t deserve to be, is speaking with a King he’s unworthy to see, and is trusting Jesus will accept his shaky melody; and his earnestness leads to a toothless grin on the baby’s face. This is perhaps the first physical smile of the God of the Universe.
This God doesn’t look at the boy and wonder why his offering wasn’t more valuable. He doesn’t wonder why it came from a poor boy who wouldn’t typically be invited to a birth. He accepts the offering as sufficient out of the goodness of His own grace and mercy. He looks at the boy as a loving Father rather than an impetuous child. This is the Gospel.
Is this not the experience of every Christian? Yes, it’s not a Biblical account. Yes, it’s a ridiculous picture. Yes, drums are not welcome in modern delivery rooms. But a simple story depicting the glory of Christ, our utter need for grace and mercy to come into His presence, and His acceptance of a small amount of faith as sufficient for His approval shouldn’t receive the pounding it typically does.
I am the Little Drummer Boy. And when, in the presence of the King, I humbly give Him my feeble offerings, I have to believe He smiles at me and my drum, saying with His approval: “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”