In a quiet town, three men carried secrets heavier than their prayers.
The first, a man hungry for truth, entered the village church one night. The doors were open, the lights dim. There, on the altar, lay a Bible. He looked around, whispered “forgive me,” and slipped it under his coat.
“I need it more than they do,” he thought, “to read and grow at home.”
The second, a well-dressed man, tiptoed through his own home, avoiding the creaky boards his wife warned him about. He reached under the mattress, pulled out their emergency money, and left.
That Sunday, he dropped it in the offering basket. People nodded in admiration.
“God will understand,” he thought. “It’s going back to His house.”
The third, a father of four, took a small stash of savings from his brother’s drawer. The child in his neighborhood had gone two days without food. The hospital bills were unpaid.
“Better I take it now,” he said. “Someone needs it more.”
🌒 Days Later…
The town gathered at the community square. A rumor had spread — three acts of theft, all connected by good intentions.
The elder asked:
“Who among these three is truly guilty?”
Whispers followed. Some pointed at the first man — “You don’t steal from God’s altar.”
Others defended the third — “At least he helped the poor.”
But a young boy raised his hand and said:
“They all stole. And the one who did it for praise—he did the worst of all.”
Silence.
🔍 The Moral:
Stealing, even for a holy purpose, is still theft.
Intentions matter, but so do actions.
A good deed done with a dirty hand is no longer clean.
The world doesn’t just need givers. It needs honest ones.