THE TRUTH BEHIND THE MISSING MONEY — PART 1 — THE 340 EUROS
I knew every single amount recorded in our church’s ledger.
For eleven years, I had managed the finances.
I knew how much money was collected on Sundays, how much was donated to the food bank, and how much was set aside for maintenance.
That was why I noticed it immediately.
340 euros.
The first time, I thought I had made a mistake.
The second week, I checked everything again.
By the third week, I started to worry.
Every Sunday, exactly 340 euros were missing from the fund for the church roof.
Not 300.
Not 350.
Exactly 340 euros.
And then I began paying attention.
Not to the numbers.
To the people.
Especially one man.
Pieter van Dijk.
Pieter had only been appointed as an elder a few months earlier. He was quiet, polite, and helpful. Everyone in the congregation seemed to trust him.
So did I.
Until that Sunday.
The church service was over.
Most people had already gone home.
I was sitting at the back of the church, preparing to count the collection money.
Then I saw Pieter walk in.
First, he looked at the door.
Then at the table.
He walked toward the collection basket.
My heart began to beat faster.
Pieter picked up the basket.
He looked around one more time.
Then he pulled out a bundle of banknotes.
And slipped them into his jacket pocket.
I froze.
I knew immediately how much it was.
340 euros.
Pieter walked away calmly, as if nothing had happened.
I was left alone.
That evening, I opened the church ledger.
I wrote one name next to the amount.
Pieter van Dijk.
For the first time in eleven years, I thought:
Maybe we have a thief in our church.
But I didn't want to accuse him without proof.
So the next morning, I went to Pastor Johan de Vries.
I placed the ledger in front of him.
“Pastor,” I said, “we have a problem.”
He looked at the numbers.
“What problem?”
“The money for the roof.”
He slowly flipped through the pages.
“340 euros,” he said.
I nodded.
“For three months.”
Then I told him what I had seen.
Pieter.
The collection basket.
The 340 euros.
Johan listened without interrupting me.
Then he stood up.
He walked over to an old cabinet behind his desk.
He opened the bottom drawer.
And pulled out a worn shoebox.
He placed it in front of me.
“Anna,” he said quietly.
“Before you accuse Pieter… you need to see this.”
I stared at the box.
And for the first time, I began to doubt everything I thought I knew.
