Deacon Jude Tam Tran

A VERY TIRED-LOOKING PAIR OF SHOES

“It is more blessed to give than to receive.” — (Acts 20:35)
“Whoever is kind to the poor lends to the Lord, and He will reward them for what they have done” — (Proverbs 19:17)

On a sunny afternoon that felt unreasonably perfect—one of those days when even the clouds seem to be smiling—a young student strolled down a dusty road with his professor. This professor was no ordinary academic with a permanently furrowed brow and a love affair with chalk dust. No, this man was famously known among the students as “the students’ friend.” He laughed easily, listened deeply, and somehow managed to make wisdom feel like a warm cup of tea instead of a bitter medicine.

As they walked, the student kicked a pebble down the road, bored in the way only young people can be when their lives are already full. That’s when he spotted them: a very tired-looking pair of shoes sitting right in the middle of the road. They weren’t trendy. They weren’t shiny. They were the kind of shoes that had seen more sunrises than vacations.

“Looks like someone forgot their shoes,” the student said.

The professor smiled. “Or someone who owns very little put them down very carefully.”

They glanced toward a nearby field where a poor farmer was finishing up his work, wiping sweat from his brow like a man who had given the day everything he had.

The student’s eyes sparkled—not with compassion, unfortunately, but with mischief.

“Professor,” he said, lowering his voice as if proposing a brilliant scientific experiment, “let’s have a little fun. I’ll hide his shoes. Then we’ll hide behind those bushes and watch his face when he can’t find them.”

The professor stopped walking. Not abruptly. Calmly. The way a parent stops a child who’s about to lick a frozen pole.

“No, my young friend,” he said gently, “we should never amuse ourselves at the expense of the poor.”

The student shrugged. “It’s just a joke.”

The professor tilted his head and smiled. “Yes. But some jokes cost more than laughter.”

Then he added, almost casually, “But if you’re truly in the mood for an experiment, I have a better idea.”

Now that got the student’s attention.

“You’re a wealthy young man,” the professor continued. “Try this instead. Put a coin in each shoe. Then hide. Watch what happens—not to him, but to you.”

The student hesitated. Coins? In shoes? This didn’t sound nearly as entertaining. But curiosity won. He slipped a coin into each worn shoe, and they both ducked behind a bush that offered questionable concealment but excellent moral education.

Soon enough, the farmer finished his work and trudged over. He picked up his coat, slipped it on, and slid his foot into the first shoe.

Thunk.

He froze.

He bent down slowly, like a man afraid the ground might disappear if he moved too fast. He reached inside and pulled out the coin. His eyebrows shot up. He turned the coin over, rubbed it between his fingers, stared at it as if it might vanish.

He looked around. Nothing. No one. Just wind, sky, and silence.

He placed the coin carefully in his pocket and tried the second shoe.

Thunk.

This time, he didn’t just freeze. He cracked.

The farmer sank to his knees right there on the dusty road. He lifted his face to the sky, tears streaking paths through the dirt on his cheeks, and spoke words that weren’t polished but were powerful.

He thanked God for provision that had come just in time. He spoke of a sick wife who needed care. Of children whose hunger had been growing louder. Of a burden lifted by an unseen hand.

Behind the bush, the student felt something strange happening. His throat tightened. His eyes burned. The joke he had planned suddenly seemed small, brittle, and embarrassing.

Tears slid down his face before he could stop them.

The professor didn’t say anything right away. He let the moment do the teaching.

Finally, he asked softly, “Do you feel happier now than you would have if you had hidden his shoes?” The student nodded, unable to speak at first.

“Professor,” he said at last, wiping his eyes and laughing weakly at himself, “I get it now. I finally understand that saying.”

He paused, then quoted the words he had heard but never truly felt:
“It is more blessed to give than to receive.” (Acts 20:35)

The professor smiled. Not triumphantly. Tenderly.

That dusty road holds a lesson that still walks beside us today. Every day, we stand at the same crossroads the student faced. We can choose easy laughter that costs someone else, or quiet generosity that changes a life—including our own.

The Bible reminds us, “Whoever is kind to the poor lends to the Lord, and He will reward them for what they have done” (Proverbs 19:17). Notice it doesn’t say “whoever posts about it,” or “whoever gets credit for it.” Just kindness. Quiet. Intentional. Human.

Giving doesn’t always mean coins in shoes. Sometimes it’s patience instead of sarcasm.
Forgiveness instead of keeping score. A meal, a message, a moment of listening when it would be easier to look away.

And here’s the beautiful surprise: when we give, we don’t walk away emptier. We walk away lighter. Because joy, real joy, doesn’t come from being clever or comfortable. It comes from love in action—unexpected, undeserved, and deeply needed.

So, the next time you’re tempted to hide someone’s shoes for a laugh, maybe try leaving a coin instead.

You might just discover that the blessing finds you before you ever go looking for it.