THE ACT OF GIVING
by Bo Sanchez

One day, I discovered I only had P9,000 left in my savings - tucked safely in my desk drawer. Actually, I still had some P700 in my wallet but even with that, I was still probably the poorest "Chairman of the Board" this universe has ever known. At about nine that morning, a member of our Catholic group called up and told me that her daughter was in the hospital: She needed P9,000, pronto!

"Lord, how could you?" I whispered under my breath, "Why do You always have to be so exact? Why do You always ask for all that I have?" "Pick up your money here," I told her as cheerfully as I could, hiding my anxiety. At the back of my mind, I was already imagining the dire and morbid consequences of my decision. Living with only P700 in my wallet meant not eating pizza for a few years (Oh no!), jogging to my prayer meetings, and wearing the same old clothes I have until I reached 75.

A few minutes later, another friend barges through our front door, weeping, and tells me about her family problems. It ended with her very nervous plea, "Bo, can you give me P500?" I started laughing. "Not P700?" She shook her head, baffled at my question. I pulled out my wallet and gave her P500. (When you have a very thin wallet, that simple act is very, very difficult to do!) But as I did that, a small bundle of crumpled, folded-up paper popped out of my wallet. I picked it up and couldn't believe my eyes: It was another P500! Where in the world did that come from? Suddenly, I felt God was telling me it was "miracle" time. In my excitement, I wanted to get my P9,000 ready to be given away. (Who knows what would pop out as I did that?) I went to my room and grabbed the wad of paper bills from my drawer -- and shoved it into an envelope. But before sealing the cover, I thought of recounting the cash. I leafed through the bills, counting rather monotonously, "One thousand...two thousand...three thousand..." It was only when I mentioned "...eleven thousand..." that I stopped, realizing that something was terribly wrong. Finally, when I reached fifteen thousand, I knelt down, cried a little, and said a heartfelt prayer of thanks. "Lord, You're something else. You still want me to eat pizza after all."

"My son." I felt the Lord speak to my heart, "today I insisted that you give me all that you have. And you did -- I honor you for this. But there'll still be many times when I'll ask you the same thing: all of your time, all of your future, all of your desires. It is scary. But you'll have to trust Me. For as you give your all, you will be empty. But in your emptiness, you will have more room for Me."

Let us give our all to Jesus and God.

Lord, I don't know how long I'll live, But while I live, Lord let me give; For You at Christmas let me do my part To kindly lift a tired or weary heart.*