“Whose image is on the coin?” asks local believer, apparently expecting the answer to settle considerably more than a tax question.
WASHINGTON, D.C. — Following the Treasury’s promotion of Trump dollar coins, a local Christian announced that he had finally found a practical application for Christ’s instruction to render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s: purchasing presidential currency and using it to make a barista uncomfortable.
“I’ve always wanted to apply this passage,” said church member Dale Banner, holding a promotional image of the coin. “Previously, it mostly seemed to involve paying taxes, which felt insufficiently confrontational.”
Banner explained that the president’s portrait gave the transaction a clear biblical framework.
“Whose image and inscription is this?” he asked his pastor.
“Trump’s.”
“Exactly.”
“What do you think that establishes?”
“That I need a roll.”
His pastor opened Matthew 22 and explained that Jesus’ answer concerned giving Caesar what belonged to Caesar while giving God what belonged to God—not purchasing a ruler’s likeness as a demonstration of religious fidelity.
Banner acknowledged the distinction and asked whether the church bookstore would be stocking them.
The discussion intensified when he learned that a roll containing $25 in coins was listed for $61.
“That sounds expensive,” another congregant observed.
“You cannot put a price on patriotism.”
“They appear to have.”
Banner nevertheless defended the purchase as an opportunity to bring biblical conviction into the public square, specifically the portion of the public square where a college student operates an espresso machine.
His plan called for entering a politically progressive coffee shop, ordering a latte, and placing the coins on the counter with sufficient deliberation to initiate a national conversation.
“What if the cashier just takes them?” his wife asked.
“Then I’ll explain whose face is on them.”
“What if she already knows?”
“Then I’ll explain why she’s upset.”
At a subsequent Bible study, Banner proposed updating the familiar phrase to “Render unto Trump the things that are Trump’s.”
The pastor asked him to finish the sentence.
Banner repeated the first half more confidently.
“And unto God?” the pastor prompted.
“Of course,” Banner replied. “That goes without saying.”
“It does seem to keep going without saying.”
The pastor then pointed out that the passage distinguishes the ruler’s claim from God’s, rather than treating the two as interchangeable. The NET Bible’s notes connect the coin bearing Caesar’s image with human beings bearing God’s image: the ruler’s currency does not establish ownership of the person carrying it.
Banner described this as an interesting interpretation but questioned its usefulness in irritating liberals.
By the end of the meeting, the church had clarified that paying taxes, collecting coins, supporting a president, and worshiping God were four distinct activities, even when a merchandise table made them appear conveniently adjacent.
Banner agreed that Christians should avoid confusing political enthusiasm with devotion.
He then asked whether the offering plate could provide change for a commemorative roll.
At press time, a local barista had accepted the coins, counted them, and returned to work—forcing Banner to explain that she was supposed to be having a much worse experience.
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