Hey Beloved,
Every year, the same Christmas songs fight for airtime.
The hits, the crowd favorites, the ones your grocery store starts playing far too early.
But tucked quietly in the corner sits the most underrated Christmas song of them all.
A simple tune.
No glitter.
No vocal acrobatics.
Just a gentle drumbeat and a boy with a gift he is not sure is good enough.
The Little Drummer Boy.
Quick note: I think I actually know more people who despise this song or at the very least find it annoying. If that is you… I hope to change your mind. 😉
So….
It begins with the announcement that a king has come.
Bring your finest.
Bring your best.
Bring the gifts worthy of royalty.
That script sounds familiar, doesn’t it?
In hospitality, we often feel that same gravitational pull toward extravagance.
The most beautiful table.
The most impeccable service.
The curated everything.
And while excellence matters, sometimes that pursuit whispers another message.
That we must impress.
That only the extraordinary counts.
That our value is tied to what we produce, polish, or perfect.
That pressure leaks into our inner lives too.
We start believing the finest version of us is the only acceptable one.
But then the song shifts, and we meet the boy.
I actually like to step inside his mind as he witnesses all of this.
He watches others gather gold and perfumes and gifts that shimmer in the world’s eyes.
He feels that twist of unworthiness.
That worry that what he has is not enough.
That wondering if he should even show up.
Yet he does.
He steps forward.
He brings his drum.
Simple.
Ordinary.
His.
And he offers it with all the love he carries.
This is the heartbeat of hospitality.
Not the fanciest things.
Not the luxury.
Not the flawless performance.
Hospitality starts when we bring ourselves with wonder and curiosity.
With our presence.
With our sincerity.
Our willingness to offer the best of the gifts already in our hands.
And the story ends with a smile.
The boy plays, and the King looks at him with delight.
That is where the quiet faith of this season settles in.
The One Who Holds All Things Together sees you.
The One Who Makes All Things Work Together For Good delights in you.
He calls you beloved.
He whispers that you belong.
Not because of the fineness of your offering,
but because of the posture of your heart.
So as you move through this season with gatherings and work and weary travel and hidden moments of welcome, here is your invitation:
Bring your drum.
Play your best.
And trust that the One who sees it all
smiles back.
Pa rum pum pum pum.
Grace and peace,
Nathan
