The Piggy Bank Burped

Part 1 – Earth’s Economy

They tell me gold passed four thousand dollars an ounce last week.

The financial networks lit up like Christmas trees—investors smiling, anchors breathless, everyone announcing, “Buy gold before it’s too late!”

It happens every time the world feels a little shaky: we all run back to the oldest form of security we know—gold.

But there’s something almost comic about it. The same voices that were warning us yesterday now swear they’ve found the one safe investment today. And people start feeding their piggy banks again, one frantic handful of coins at a time, as if heaven itself runs on Wall Street’s ticker.

Then you have crypto.

Digital gold, they call it—wealth you can’t hold, stored in cyberspace, glowing with promise until one tweet, one rumor, one market hiccup makes it vanish like smoke.

You can’t touch it, you can’t smell it, and if you lose the password, it’s gone forever.

That’s our world’s economy: shiny, unstable, temporary.

It promises peace but delivers heartburn.

Every time humanity gets anxious, it stuffs another coin through the slot, hoping the sound of clinking metal will drown out the sound of fear.

And somewhere in the background you can almost hear it—the piggy bank burps.

That tiny echo of spiritual indigestion that says, “I’m full, but I’m still not satisfied.”

Because gold can buy comfort but never contentment.

Crypto can create wealth but not worth.

Even religion can turn into currency—works, rituals, sacraments—if we use it to purchase peace instead of receiving grace.

The book of Hebrews steps right into that confusion and says, “Every priest stands daily at his service… but this Man, after He had offered one sacrifice for sins forever, sat down.”

In other words, heaven doesn’t trade in performance.

Its currency has already been minted in blood.

So while the markets quake and the headlines boast, God whispers something altogether different:

“Stop feeding the pig. I’ve already filled the vault.”

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When the Piggy Bank Burped

The piggy bank always burps when we’ve been feeding it too much of the wrong thing.

That burp is the sound of a soul that’s stuffed but not satisfied.

It’s what happens when human beings—good, well-intentioned, religious human beings—try to fill eternal hunger with temporary currency.

We feed our fears with metal, our guilt with ritual, our anxiety with performance, and then wonder why nothing tastes right.

That’s what religion often does when it loses sight of grace.

It starts printing its own money.

It calls them sacraments, ceremonies, holy orders, and claims each one is another installment on the balance of salvation.

But the writer of Hebrews looks straight through the smokescreen and says:

> “Every priest stands daily ministering and offering time after time the same sacrifices, which can never take away sins.

But He, having offered one sacrifice for sins for all time, sat down at the right hand of God.” (Hebrews 10:11-12)

Do you hear the contrast?

The priests stand because their work is never finished.

Jesus sits because His work will never need to be done again.

That’s the sound of heaven’s economy changing forever.

No more deposits required. No more payments pending.

The account is settled, the debt forgiven, the books closed.

But people still keep feeding the pig.

They feed it gold when they crave control.

They feed it crypto when they crave novelty.

They feed it good works when they crave reassurance.

And each time, the world grows louder with the sound of spiritual indigestion.

Here’s the truth: you can’t buy peace with effort, and you can’t bribe grace with ritual.

The only tender heaven recognizes is the finished work of Christ.

He didn’t make a down payment on your forgiveness; He purchased it outright.

So when life feels uncertain and the markets tremble, remember this:

Faith doesn’t feed the pig—it trusts the Provider.

Grace isn’t earned—it’s received.

And the next time you hear the world burp, you can smile and whisper, “Mine’s already full—Jesus paid it all.”

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Heaven’s Financial Section

If you listen hard enough, you can almost hear the celestial newsroom breaking the story:

> Breaking News from the Heaven Times

Heaven announces system upgrade to handle Final Judgment traffic; grace servers under maintenance until further notice.

Apparently omnipotence has a bandwidth problem.

Cherubim are recalibrating eternity’s algorithms,

and Gabriel’s trying to reboot the cloud before the connection times out.

Poor Jesus — He’s waiting on Musk and Starlink to boost the signal so He can open the Books of Life in real time.

That’s funny, but it’s also revealing.

Because that’s exactly how it sounds when we start to believe heaven needs human help—

when we act as though grace must be processed through our rituals,

or as though the cross still has pending transactions.

Friend, nothing ever buffers in heaven.