On April 9, 2010, at 6:30 a.m., Vernon Murphy woke up, rolled out of bed in his Coatesville, Pa., home and resolved to run.

He hated jogging, but he got up anyway. Because Murphy got up that morning, pulled on his shorts, laced up his shoes, and then gasped his way through a half-mile run, Barbara, who has advanced ovarian cancer, could cover last month’s rent. Gerry, who has scalp, lung, and colon cancer, could pay his electric bill. Darlene, who has late-stage colorectal cancer, got help with her medical bills.

The suggested retail price for a steaming serving of turkey chili in a bread bowl at Panera Bread is normally $5.89. But customers ordering that menu item at cafés in St. Louis can now pay more, less … or nothing at all.

Panera’s pay-what-you-can model, part of the company’s charitable hunger-fighting initiative, was first tried in the St. Louis suburb of Clayton in 2010, but this week the company expanded it to all 48 cafés in the metropolitan area.

As Congress is debating gun control under the glare of media spotlights, a quiet threat is emerging under the radar: charity contributions control.

Non-profit groups that rely on contributions are America’s chief poverty-fighters (alongside job-creating businesses). They care for orphans, refugees, and those who are ill. They feed people materially and spiritually, fight illiteracy and provide tutors, help those who want to leave gangs and prostitution, and do thousands of other useful tasks.

In a historic Portland residential district, a large green sign pinned to a red-brick store front announces the Oregon Public House: “Have a Pint: Change the World.”

Beer and philanthropy don’t usually go together, but the Oregon Public House, due to open in February, is the latest in a new kind of charitable enterprise some are calling “philanthropubs.”

After “eat-’til-you-drop” Thursday (also known as Thanksgiving), “shop-’til-you-drop” Friday, and “shop-’til-you-get-carpal-tunnel-syndrome” Monday, charities are trying to make today “Giving” Tuesday, where more than 2,000 nonprofit organizations, religious groups, and corporations are encouraging people to give to their causes.

Sip Mouden, CEO of Community Health Centers of Arkansas, says FQHCs are the best kept secret that shouldn't be a secret.

When WORLD intern Kira Clark asked 37 charitably minded Americans what they thought about FQHCs, she found that not one had heard of them.

In 1999 Dr. David Kim surveyed the medical landscape in Staten Island, N.Y., and noted a presence and an absence. Present: high rates of diabetes, obesity, heart disease, and asthma. Absent: Christianity. Kim decided to open a clinic but knew he could not do so with private contributions. In 2006 he founded Beacon Christian Community Health Center, a nonprofit clinic he hoped would become a federally qualified health center (FQHC) and receive grants from Washington.