Ifinished writing a book late last year. The work is now with my editor and soon it will move to layout and printing.
That simple sentence carries more weight than it looks. Writing is exhilarating. Editing—and now letting go—is sobering.
At this stage, you no longer add much. You mostly listen, trim and trust. Somewhere between revisions and margins, I realized again that this book didn’t begin as a publishing project. It began as a life project.
For many, I’m known as a personal finance educator. I talk about discipline, stewardship, investing and long-term thinking. But this book—Blue Chip: A No-nonsense Guide to Raising Financially Smart Kids—was not born out of seminars or spreadsheets. It was born at home.
In investing, a “blue chip” company is stable, resilient and trustworthy. It doesn’t rise and fall with every headline. It performs over time because it is built on strong fundamentals.
As I revisited the manuscript with fresh eyes, I realized that this was the quiet prayer I carried as a parent all along. Not that my children would be wealthy or impressive—but that they would be steady. Because the world they are growing up in is anything but.
Our children are being formed in an environment of constant noise, comparison and instant gratification. Social media tells them they are behind. Advertising teaches them to equate happiness with consumption. And money—whether we talk about it or not—is shaping their hearts earlier than we realize.
One of the clearest convictions that shaped this book is this: children form their relationship with money long before they ever earn it. They watch how we respond to pressure. They feel anxiety even when we try to hide it. They observe how we handle lack, abundance, success and failure.
Money does not create what is in the heart. It reveals it. For a long time, I didn’t understand that.
Before I encountered Jesus at 40, my relationship with money was shaped by fear and self-reliance. I believed provision depended entirely on me. I carried pressure quietly. I made decisions driven more by emotion than wisdom. We experienced seasons of abundance and seasons of stress not because income was inconsistent, but because my understanding of stewardship was incomplete.
Everything shifted when God redefined ownership for me. “The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it” stopped being a verse I quoted and became a conviction I had to live out. Stewardship moved from being a financial strategy to a spiritual posture. And as God slowly fathered me, I found myself learning how to father my children differently.
That’s why Blue Chip does not begin with allowance systems or savings charts. It begins with identity. One conviction I return to throughout the book is simple but crucial: identity must come before allowance.
Children who do not know who they are will eventually use money to compensate. They overspend to belong, compare to feel validated and chase things to fill emotional gaps. But children rooted in identity learn restraint, contentment and purpose.
Some of these lessons came through light, almost humorous moments—like the “Starbucks moment” with my daughter Billie, when a simple request for water turned into a gentle but unforgettable lesson on impulse and awareness. Other lessons came through heavier seasons.
One of the most defining was during the pandemic. When my speaking work disappeared almost overnight, it would have been logical—even responsible—to pull back on generosity.
But I sensed God inviting us to trust Him more deeply. We chose to continue supporting missionaries. What followed were provisions I could never have planned. But more important than provision was what our children witnessed: that God is faithful, even when circumstances are uncertain. Those moments became part of their inheritance.
Today, all four of our children are adults. My daughters are married to men who steward money with wisdom and humility. My sons carry discipline and discernment beyond their years.
None of them are perfect—but they are grounded. And that, more than any financial metric, tells me something went right.
The greatest inheritance we can leave our children is not wealth. It is wisdom. It is peace. It is a healthy relationship with money rooted in trust in God.
As this book moves closer to print, I’m reminded that Blue Chip is not about raising perfect children. It’s about raising resilient ones—children who are not easily shaken by trends, pressure or fear.
Blue Chip adults are not formed by accident. They are shaped through thousands of small, faithful moments—conversations, boundaries, examples, prayers—lived consistently over time.
My hope is that this book reads less like a manual and more like a conversation. One parent to another. One imperfect father pointing to a faithful God. Because when God fathers us well, He equips us to raise the next generation better.
Randell Tiongson is a Registered Financial Planner of RFP Philippines. To learn more about personal financial planning, attend the 115th RFP program this March 2026. Email info@rfp.ph or visit rfp.ph to learn more about the program.
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