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.

I moved to Charlotte in 2007. The job market boomed. People moved there from around the country, energizing the city. The influx of new residents meant that local builders kept busy.

Carol cradles her right foot in her hand, taking off her black Croc sandal and white sock. The callus on her heel is so hard it has worn a hole in the shoe. She could live with that, but up higher, on the fleshy part of her foot, sits a large, soft tissue growth. Every time she walks on it, pain shoots through her leg. Just walking to the bathroom is painful.