A text came through as I was running errands on a hectic snow day before Christmas. It was only mid-morning, but I was already feeling a little spent, not finding a parking spot even close to the post office (for the second day in a row).

The text was from a local ministry seeking $750 in almost immediate assistance, and I admit that I felt even more frustration in my spirit. While I would have loved to have said an immediate yes and filled the need, there was simply no way in my budget to make that happen. While the text wasn’t necessarily aimed at me personally, I was still discouraged that I couldn’t help with much of the need, and I felt annoyed that I was even asked in the first place. What help was I going to be with this? I felt worse about having so little to bring. I honestly considered ignoring the text.

That’s when I realized something wasn’t right in me. Why should I be mad about being asked? After all, I’m the one who always tells my friends to please let me know if they have any needs. Truth be told, I realized I was mad because it wasn’t something I could do myself. I couldn’t save the ministry, and I couldn’t save the day. I wasn’t even sure my $25 donation would make any difference, and I had no idea how the other person copied on the text would feel about it either. Knowing he is a faithful brother in Christ, I believed he would also want to help. But would either of us have the means to do anything significant, even if we got other people involved, especially so quickly, right before Christmas?

I took a deep breath and texted my friend at the ministry back to let her know that we would “discuss it and see what we could do.” And then I texted my other friend to get the ball rolling. Being the leader he is, he took the lead and texted the ministry group we’re involved with.

Within two hours, God brought $775 through the group, exactly $25 more than the original request. I sat back, humbled. God wasn’t asking for my mere $25; in fact, that $25 proved to be extra. He was just asking for my belief, my willingness, and my witness to the power of sometimes just making a little noise for the asking (James 4:2). I was sure grateful that my friend took the lead to make the noise among our group. I was busy trying to get through the noise in my head.

As I sit and write now, grateful for the need being filled, I’m looking out at the snow falling peacefully outside the window, reminded of the lyrics of the Christmas song “The Little Drummer Boy.” The lyrics reveal that he had nothing to give, but he came and made a joyful noise for the Lord, the only thing he had to bring. And that “noise” was enough — just the right kind to bring the praises of God’s people together, all for His glory.