And they told him, "Come."

The rhythmic cadence was spread thin throughout the vast night sky until it lingered as a faint and pulsing echo. The blanket of stars cast a glorious glow over the hills, a glow more radiant than normal, a glow that caught the wonder of the little boy’s eyes and as he lifted his head in awe, his hands stilled and he and his drum stood in silence. His gaze was interrupted by a group of eager shepherds. Their steps ascended the hill he stood on and their voices brought news to his ears of great joy. His mother had told him about a king: a king who would receive the throne of their father David and reign forever and ever; a king who was good and who would save their people. This king had come, and the shepherds said to the boy, “Come.” They said he was born, this king, a child, in Bethlehem, and they called him Savior, Christ the Lord.

The little boy’s heart fluttered in anticipation as he hastened to keep up with the shepherds. He ran in excitement, down the hill, and toward the city, luminous with glory. They arrived at the stable and the little boy, moved by delight yet slowed by overwhelming wonder, cautiously peered around the doorframe and into the tiny room. He took no notice of the man or the woman or the animals surrounding them or the shepherds who were now laying their gifts at the manger, his eyes were fixated on the baby, he was mesmerized by the king. After a few enchanting moments, he looked at the gifts at the foot of the manger and his little heart dropped. He had nothing. He had nothing of value, nothing that was fit to give a holy king. Looking around, there was nothing he could find but dirt and grass and the gifts already given. Disheartened, he slowly turned to the leave. He did not belong in the company of saints. He was just a small boy, and a poor one at that.

As he bowed his head toward the ground, he remembered: He was not just a small poor boy—he was a drummer, and the drum that he so devotedly practiced still hung faithfully around his neck. Beaming with pride, he came near to the manger and asked if he could offer to the king, a song, on his drum. With joyful permission he began to play. The little boy, bursting with excitement and delight, played with the strength of a soldier and with the disposition of a skilled drummer. He was pleased to offer to the king his very best. And his very best it was. And as the king smiled, the beautifully triumphant song resounded within the tiny walls, echoed over the city, and spread throughout the sky, illuminating the already brilliant stars, for the next few moments, with a pure, majestic and heavenly glory.