Broken Drum

Come, they told me – pa rum pum pum pum…

I see the appeal to help orphans, and my heart cries. I want to be there. I should be there.

A newborn king to see – pa rum pum pum pum…

I read of mission doctors giving their own blood in primitive conditions. I want to be there. I should be there.

Our finest gifts we bring – pa rum pum pum pum…

I look at lists of random acts of kindness I can do right here in my own hometown. I want to do this. I should do this.

To lay before the King – pa rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum , rum pum pum pum…

I look around me. People with lots more kids, lots less “free” time, are doing so much.

So to honor Him – pa rum pum pum pum…

When we come.

What’s wrong with me? I feel busy all the time, but I’m only running in circles. I want to focus on others, but I can barely get MYSELF out of the house in the morning.

I can barely get to the “COME” stage. It seems that’s all I’ve got, God.

I have no gift to bring – pa rum pum pum pum…

I don’t know who I am. Where I belong. What I should do.

That’s fit to give the King – pa rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum , rum pum pum pum…

“You are a child of God.” I KNOW this. “You don’t need to be in a special place, under special circumstances, to serve God.” I KNOW this.  But the knowledge isn’t translating into anything.

Shall I play for You – pa rum pum pum pum…

Right here? Right now?

On my drum?

Show me how, God! I don’t know how to play my best. I don’t know where to start. I don’t know how.

My drum is broken, God…