A Christmas Gift

It was on a Christmas day towards evening when the lights had already been turned on. It was snowing outside. A poorly dressed boy of six entered the pastor’s room.

“Mr. Preacher,” he said, and laid a very small sum of money on the table, “I wanted to give something for the poor heathen children too. Are you sending it soon?”

The preacher knew the boy. He was the son of a poor, devout widow who found it very difficult to feed herself and her children by her meager earnings.

“Well now, son,” asked the preacher, “where did you get the money from? Did your mother give it to you?” – “No,” he replied, “my mother is poor. I earned the money.”

“How did you do that?”

“I collected recyclable bottles that were lying around.”

“But could you not have bought something for yourself for Christmas with that money?” the preacher asked. “Or did your mother or someone else give you something for Christmas?” The boy shook his head.

“Well,” said the preacher, “do you really want to send the money far away to another country to children you do not even know? Or do you want to take it back and spend it on yourself?”

The boy thought for a few moments and then replied, “Mr. Preacher, my mother told me that despite our poverty, we have a nice gift on Christmas Day. We were given the Lord Jesus from heaven. But the poor heathen children have nothing. We should help to bring them the message of the Lord Jesus.”

The preacher kindly shook the little boy’s hand and wished him God’s abundant blessing for the missionary gift. The little boy smiled at him cheerfully and then joyfully skipped towards home.

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