I arrived at my office at my usual time. I unlocked the door as I usually did. But when I stepped in, I knew something was wrong. I first noticed how cold it was. Then I saw that my window looked open. The window blind was askew. My corner lamp was lying across my desk at an odd angle.
Because I’m an idiot, my first thought was, “Did I leave my window open?”
When my moment of denial had passed, I realized I had been burglarized. Then I examined things more closely. There were bits of glass on the windowsill, and outside I saw a large piece of glass on the ground. I shrewdly concluded whoever had broken into my office had come through the window.
My immediate concern was, “What did they steal?” It was then I noticed my stereo was gone. I found it comforting, in a perverse way, that they had not taken the remote. No remote means no radio presets and the CD player won’t work like it’s supposed to.
Then I noticed the open desk drawer.
It was the only drawer the thief had opened. It was the bottom drawer, on the right side of my desk. It contained my petty cash box. The box was empty, and about $90 was missing. I was concerned the money was gone, but it was more troubling that this particular drawer was the only one the thief had opened.
Occasionally people would walk into my office and ask for help. Sometimes they’d ask for food or other supplies, but more frequently the request was for financial assistance. I would often give them some small amount of cash, usually out of my wallet. But sometimes I didn’t have the right amount of cash, so I would take money out of my petty cash box.
I have always known this was an unwise thing to do in front of strangers, sometimes desperate strangers. On the other hand, I’d been doing it for decades without any unwanted consequences.
Whoever broke into my office obviously knew where I kept my petty cash box. They had likely been in my office and had watched me reach into my petty cash drawer.
I confess that giving people a little money had as much to do with getting them out of my office as it did with Jesus’s command to “love your neighbor as yourself.”
After the burglary, I corrected my reasons for, and method of, this way of loving others.
There is something else. My burglarized office was a reminder of the risks involved in helping others. In 1 Corinthians 13, the Apostle Paul’s description of love begins with “longsuffering” and ends with “perseverance.” That means, among other things, that loving others will not always, maybe not even usually, have the ending we hoped for. Love that suffers long accepts the possibility, even the probability, of being disappointed, frustrated, and hurt.
In the context of my burglarized office, to love and help others required living with the possibility they will steal from me.
My empty petty cash box motivated me to find better ways to help and love needy strangers who walked into my office. That’s a good thing.
My empty petty cash box did not stop me from trying to help and love needy strangers who walked into my office. That’s a better thing.
This article was first published in the Covenant Companion Summer 2026 issue, the official magazine of the Evangelical Covenant Church.
Commentary
A Burglary and a Lesson in Love
I arrived at my office at my usual time. I unlocked the door as I usually did. But when I stepped in, I knew something was wrong. I first noticed how cold it was. Then I saw that my window looked open. The window blind was askew. My corner lamp was lying across my desk at an odd angle.
Because I’m an idiot, my first thought was, “Did I leave my window open?”
When my moment of denial had passed, I realized I had been burglarized. Then I examined things more closely. There were bits of glass on the windowsill, and outside I saw a large piece of glass on the ground. I shrewdly concluded whoever had broken into my office had come through the window.
My immediate concern was, “What did they steal?” It was then I noticed my stereo was gone. I found it comforting, in a perverse way, that they had not taken the remote. No remote means no radio presets and the CD player won’t work like it’s supposed to.
Then I noticed the open desk drawer.
It was the only drawer the thief had opened. It was the bottom drawer, on the right side of my desk. It contained my petty cash box. The box was empty, and about $90 was missing. I was concerned the money was gone, but it was more troubling that this particular drawer was the only one the thief had opened.
Occasionally people would walk into my office and ask for help. Sometimes they’d ask for food or other supplies, but more frequently the request was for financial assistance. I would often give them some small amount of cash, usually out of my wallet. But sometimes I didn’t have the right amount of cash, so I would take money out of my petty cash box.
I have always known this was an unwise thing to do in front of strangers, sometimes desperate strangers. On the other hand, I’d been doing it for decades without any unwanted consequences.
Whoever broke into my office obviously knew where I kept my petty cash box. They had likely been in my office and had watched me reach into my petty cash drawer.
I confess that giving people a little money had as much to do with getting them out of my office as it did with Jesus’s command to “love your neighbor as yourself.”
After the burglary, I corrected my reasons for, and method of, this way of loving others.
There is something else. My burglarized office was a reminder of the risks involved in helping others. In 1 Corinthians 13, the Apostle Paul’s description of love begins with “longsuffering” and ends with “perseverance.” That means, among other things, that loving others will not always, maybe not even usually, have the ending we hoped for. Love that suffers long accepts the possibility, even the probability, of being disappointed, frustrated, and hurt.
In the context of my burglarized office, to love and help others required living with the possibility they will steal from me.
My empty petty cash box motivated me to find better ways to help and love needy strangers who walked into my office. That’s a good thing.
My empty petty cash box did not stop me from trying to help and love needy strangers who walked into my office. That’s a better thing.
This article was first published in the Covenant Companion Summer 2026 issue, the official magazine of the Evangelical Covenant Church.
From the editors
We are deeply grateful to Mike Guerrero for sharing his thoughtful, vulnerable writing with our readers. This issue marks his final column with us. We will miss his voice.
Mike Guerrero
CONTINUE READING
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