I figure a great start to the year would be to show up.  I don’t believe for a moment the saying that “90% of life is showing up.”  There’s just too much great work to be done for success to be reduced to that.  But there is something to be said for having a presence, establishing a reputation.  And then following through.

One goal of mine this year is to show up on this blog.  I get a lot of value out of the time spent reflecting on life and processing it in words, hitting the publish button.  And I know many people who read the words every time I post.  I want to be that consistent presence in 2013, and I’ve already thought about how I’m going to execute that plan.  You’ll be hearing about it by Friday in my Three Words post for the year.  My sister-in-law Jess has already asked me about my three words, so that’s pretty cool.

As I said, that post is coming Thursday or Friday.  But I wanted to begin here with a simple post on the first day of the year.  Showing up is a big part of life.  I’m here.  You’re here.  Let’s pursue greatness.

Advent: expectant waiting and preparation for the celebration of the Nativity of Jesus

You can catch up on the Introduction here, and Scene 1 here, Scene 2 here.

“Little Drummer Boy” (verse 3)

Mary nodded (pa-rum-pa-pum-pum)

The ox and lamb kept time (pa-rum-pa-pum-pum)

I played my drum for Him (pa-rum-pa-pum-pum)

I played my best for Him (pa-rum-pa-pum-pum) [x3]

Then, He smiled at me (pa-rum-pa-pum-pum)

Me and my drum

Remember: the newborn baby can’t respond when the drummer boy asks if he should play.  So Mary nods at the boy… and he begins to play.  The rest, well the rest is history.

But I want to leave you with this final observation. I don’t know what version of Little Drummer Boy plays in your head when you read this Advent Blog, but I listen to the live version by Jars of Clay.  They recorded it at their studio (Gray Matters) in Nashville, Tennessee.  Here’s the thing.  They don’t have a drummer.  A few different guys fill in for their shows, obviously, and even for this studio recording.  But the band has four members, and none of them play drums.  But you know what they do have?  A sweet guitar player.  And that is the point of the song.  It’s not about the drum.  The little drummer is literally identified by his drum.  His identity, his name, even his purpose is wrapped up in this drum.  And Jars takes this song, they realize it’s not about the drum but it’s about the offering to the baby King.  Bring what you have.  Bring your best.  Stephen Mason does just that in this interpretation.  His guitar is featured right as verse three starts (1:55), and then crescendos as the song finishes.  When I think about playing my best before the Lord, when it’s supposed to be a drum but instead it’s a great guitar solo, I get the chills.

In this world it is so easy to compare.  We compare to family, friends, co-workers, the guy next door, the guy on the TV.  I am the worst.  It is literally a daily struggle for me.  And if I was forced to play my drum, forced to play how the world has identified me, I would fail.  And I’d be unhappy.  And I wouldn’t be bringing my best to the newborn King.

Let’s embrace the Little Drummer Boy, as interpreted by Jars of Clay.  Let’s bring our finest gifts.  When the song and the world calls for us to play like a little drummer boy, let’s pick up whatever we have and play our best for the Lord.

Then…

Then he’ll nod at me.

Me and my [drum].

(for best results, turn up your speakers)

Jars Of Clay – Drummer Boy – Live

Advent: expectant waiting and preparation for the celebration of the Nativity of Jesus

You can catch up on the Introduction here, and Scene 1 here.

“Little Drummer Boy” (verse 2)

Little baby (pa-rum-pa-pum-pum)

I am a poor boy too (pa-rum-pa-pum-pum)

I have no gifts to bring (pa-rum-pa-pum-pum)

That’s fit to give a king (pa-rum-pa-pum-pum) [x3]

Shall I play for you (pa-rum-pa-pum-pum)

On my drum?

Here’s our scene: A boy (a little drummer boy) has been instructed to come meet a new born baby king. The next verse of the song has a quality that can only be realized when the character is a child. He comes onto the scene and immediately makes a connection with the newborn, for he is a child too.  And he knows he’s poor just like the baby. You can almost see the boy perk up and say to himself with a touch of confidence, “He’s just like me!” And at one level, he’s right.

But then he remembers the invitation. The gifts. The finest gifts.  He’s connected with the baby but now he realizes the grandness of the situation. And he realizes he has no gifts to bring. He has nothing to offer this king.  Yes, this is a baby lying in a stable. But this is also a king. The drummer boy knows this and responds appropriately: “I have no gifts to bring.  If what they say is true, then I have nothing that is suitable for this king.”

And then it gets good. Again, only a kid could pull this off. He’s connected with the baby, he realized his gifts just are not enough, but he has one thing to offer. He can play his drum. “Is that a good idea?” he asks.  “Can I just play for you?

When I reflect on the second verse of our Christmas song, I am amazed.  When I really analyze the scene and imagine a boy coming to this manger and experiencing Jesus for the first time, his response blows me away. I want that. I want connect with Jesus the way the boy did. Jesus was a man. He walked the earth. He taught the people. He led by example. I want to connect with that Jesus. Then I want to realize that I have nothing worthy to offer such a King. Then I want to offer the only thing I have: my drum. Will that be enough?

As we anticipate and prepare for Christmas, let’s dig deep like the little drummer boy and think about what we have to offer the King.  I think tomorrow’s post will be a refreshing, satisfying, and hopeful conclusion to the Advent Blog.

(You can move to the final post, Scene 3, here)

Advent: expectant waiting and preparation for the celebration of the Nativity of Jesus

“Little Drummer Boy”

Come, they told me (pa-rum-pa-pum-pum)

A newborn king to see (pa-rum-pa-pum-pum)

Our finest gifts we bring (pa-rum-pa-pum-pum)

To lay before the king (pa-rum-pa-pum-pum) [x3]

So, to honor Him (pa-rum-pa-pum-pum)

When we come

“You need to see this.”  

“This is unbelievable.”

“I have never seen anything like it.”

Often times in our culture we use these phrases a little to quickly, a little too flippantly.  But when someone comes to you and can’t wait to show you what they’ve seen, there is palpable excitement in the air, energy running through your veins.  If only you could hit pause in that moment.  If you could hit pause, you’d find yourself grateful that your friend thought enough of you to say, “Hey, I need to share this with [go ahead, enter your name here]!”  In our Christmas song that we’re looking at, something has happened that warrants the following command: “Come!  You need to see this.”

We find out that a king has been born.  Not too applicable for our day, right?  But in the context of the Bible, this was a big deal.  King had a lineage.  They had a story.  They were greatly anticipated.  This was really big deal.  So big that it would be appropriate to bring gifts.  Not just any gifts, but our finest gifts.  Why?  Why would a king need gifts?  If he’s a king, why would he need any gift from a poor person like me?  And didn’t you say he was a newborn?  Why would a newborn need gifts?  I mean in 2012 we do the baby registry and all, but back then?  What gifts would he possibly need?

No, this baby must be different.  The character in this song says that (a) you need to come, and (b) you need to bring your finest gifts.  That’s how we’ll honor him, with our finest gifts.  It would be appropriate to bring wonderful gifts to honor this king.  It’s at this point in the Advent Blog that I need to assume you know that the Christmas story is one of Jesus coming to earth.   You may not believe it, but you should at least know it.  If you know the story of the Bible, you know that Jesus is the King, the Savior, the focal point of God’s redemptive plan.  This Advent Blog assumes that you at least understand the premise of the Christian faith.

So for a moment, imagine the scene of someone pleading with you to come see this baby King.  You’re instructed to bring your finest gifts.  Empty the piggy bank.  Go above and beyond.  Make it a gift from the heart, a gift that means something.  Don’t settle for giving the sweater.  This has to be special.  Dig deep.  What do you have?  What can you give?  How can you honor the King?

Advent is about expectant waiting, but it’s also about preparing.  Imagine how you would prepare if you were about to be in the presence of royalty.  The little drummer boy, in this fictional story, has received a divine invitation.  He’s been invited to meet the King.  Can you hear the song playing?  Are you listening?  Are you responding?  It’s telling you, “Come, we’ve got to see this.  Bring gifts for royalty, bring the best you’ve got?”

What are you bringing?  You have one shot to make one impression.  What will you lay before the King?  You need to prepare.

(You can move to the next post, Scene 2, here)

We are all too well aware of the battles for our attention.  That case doesn’t have to be made.  But a still relevant question is, “Will you hear the call?  Or did you hear the news?”  When something important happens, will you have an ear that is sensitive and a heart that is willing to respond?

I’m writing a three-post series this year during Advent, the time leading up to Christmas.  It was inspired by Charlie’s series a few years back entitled “Advent Poetry.”  Charlie makes the case that in a season that is supposed to be about family, slowing down, and reflecting on the important things in life we often swing to the other side of reality and find ourselves busier than the other 11 months out of the year, more stressed, and more disappointed during and through the season of Christmas.  I generalize, but I also feel pretty confident that if we could create the ideal situation, it would include a few more relaxing cups of coffee, reading a few more pages of a good book, soaking in more time in front of the fireplace, and rich conversations with friends and family that warm the heart.  Sounds idealistic?  Maybe.  But very attainable with a little reflection and a new attitude, a new posture, a new hope.

I’ve been doing more reflection lately.  I’ve been reading a fantastic book about Advent as I prepare for Christmas (it’s written by Jon Swanson, my favorite writer from 2012).  His writing and reflection inspired the motivation for this series.  I’ve been listening to great Christmas music and I’ve been thinking more about what I can give at Christmas than what I want (sadly that is a big accomplishment).  I’ve been thinking about how I want my kids to experience their first memories of Christmas, what I want them to know, and how I can help Katie enjoy the season while she pours her heart and soul into family time, making gifts, and finds time in front of that same fireplace.

In all this reflection, I find myself coming back to one particular Christmas song.  And actually not any rendition will do.  I keep coming back to these guys from Greenville, Illinois who interpreted the Little Drummer Boy into what I consider the most important Christmas song over the last couple years for me.

I’m not a great writer, but have I caught your attention?  Tomorrow we will prepare.  We will reflect.  We will anticipate.

(You can move right to the next post, Scene 1 here)