The Tax of Caesar

Too often, I confuse this world with the next.

Every day has its set of problems that need dealing with. Some are very easily discernible as problems of this world: I am tired, and I need a nap and a latte. Some are very obviously problems of eternity: I need to ask for forgiveness, but I’m not ready to admit it.

Most problems are a subtle, maddening mix of the two: my body feels tired, obscuring how tired my soul also feels, while making me very cranky, which is keeping me from asking for the forgiveness I need.

It’s not that the nap and the latte aren’t solutions. Heaven forfend! I would never propose such a thing. Sleep and coffee, I am confident, can fix almost any problem in this world. This world.

Too often, I slap a one-size-fits-all earthly band-aid on all my problems and rush on to the next thing. But if the problem is an issue of my soul, I may as well pay for a parking ticket in Monopoly money.

I render unto Caesar, and I forget about what is owed to God. I apply solutions meant for the here and now to problems that have eternal consequences. The spiritual problems are dismissed, shoved to the back of my mind. For when I have time, I tell myself. For when I am ready.

But the only time we have is now. God is no king of this earth, and he does not ask for a tax offering. He asks for our heart. He doesn’t want us for minions but for children.

“I have called you by your name, giving you a title, though you knew me not.” — Isaiah 45:4

©LPi