He entered Jericho and was passing through. And there was a man called by the name of Zaccheus; he was a chief tax collector and he was rich. Zaccheus was trying to see who Jesus was, and was unable because of the crowd, for he was small in stature. So he ran on ahead and climbed up into a sycamore tree in order to see Him, for He was about to pass through that way. When Jesus came to the place, He looked up and said to him, “Zaccheus, hurry and come down, for today I must stay at your house.” And he hurried and came down and received Him gladly. When they saw it, they all began to grumble, saying, “He has gone to be the guest of a man who is a sinner.” Zaccheus stopped and said to the Lord, “Behold, Lord, half of my possessions I will give to the poor, and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will give back four times as much.” And Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost.” (Luke 19:1-10)

Zaccheus was a short, rich, tax collector—not exactly a winning formula for belonging. He had whiffed on size, socio economic-class, and vocation. He had struck out and didn’t even have a bench to retire to. For that matter, he didn’t even have a team. Zaccheus was a pariah. No problem though because “The Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost.”

On this day, Zaccheus woke with an ambition: “I want to see who Jesus is.” To do this he was going to have to face his fear—the crowd. The chief tax collector had hardened himself against people. He had to do something with all these people who summarily dismissed and despised him. They hated him, so he hated them back, not because he wanted to—this was just the path his heart took to protect itself from rejection, something the human heart cannot tolerate.

He heard the elevated noise from the street. The crowds were out in force and he knew why. Jesus was passing his way. He set his heart on seeing Jesus, and he set aside his aversion to the crowd. He figured if their attention was focused on someone else, it might not get focused on him. He entered the fray, knowing his size was going to put him at significant disadvantage in seeing Jesus. But if Zaccheus was anything, he was ambitious and smart. He saw the best seat in the house and made his way to the sycamore.

He hadn’t been perched long when Jesus and a throng of followers came into his view. Zaccheus was surprised; “So this common looking fellow is Jesus? This guy is who all the fuss is about?” This mystery only fueled his desire to see who Jesus was. The great Teacher was being carried along by the crowd when, suddenly, he stopped. What had happened? The crowd stilled as Jesus looked up and addressed his admirer: “Zaccheus, hurry and come down, for today I must stay at your house.

“Jesus knows my name? He must stay at my house?” He nearly fell out of the tree as this news struck him. He made his way to the ground only to be met by the crowd who welcomed him with a barrage of grumbling. The sting was not quite so great as he saw Jesus smiling at him, “Hello my friend. Yestoday I must stay at your house.” Jericho’s diminutive outcast and Jesus were now leading this throng whose din was now muffled and sour. With each step, it was dawning on him just who this Jesus was. He was the friend of outcasts. Zaccheus’ heart was melting. Halfway to his house, he turned to Jesus and said, “Behold, Lord, half of my possessions I will give to the poor, and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will give back four times as much.”

Jesus didn’t say, “Well, it’s about time,” or, “Make it five times.” Jesus heard the words, but more importantly, he saw into this broken and hardened man’s heart. Jesus simply acknowledged what he had just seen his Father do, and said, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man has come to seek and to save that which was lost.”

Many are troubled when Jesus is caught seeking out the one in 99. They grumble that he has selectively ignored the 99. I don’t think it is for us to say what Jesus does with the 99. Can Jesus not find them in their tree on another day? How many sons of Abraham were confirmed later that evening? No doubt, Jesus’ most recent follower opened his home to his fellow outcasts, perhaps other tax collectors. Maybe some prostitutes. Rather than focus on the supposed negative side of election, I choose to imagine that if these other stories were all written down, there would not be space enough for the volumes they would fill.

What were the first painful words you ever heard about yourself? Mine happened to come from classmates who I had thought were like me. I was thinking I belonged to them and I was like them. It was in this warm sense of belonging that I first heard kids say, “He’s rich.” The realization that I was not a member of them put some things in motion that effect how I believe Zaccheus thought about the crowd.

Protecting myself from the revelation that I did not belong, prompted me to consciously build my first wall (at a younger age, I had already built a few, which were more reflexive). I became a proficient builder as, over the years, I erected one wall after another. We all do. We all left the Garden with a cosmic sized rejection complex. Our walls become impenetrable fortresses where love is neither received nor given. Like Zaccheus, we end up with hardened hearts—wounded people wounding people. I suspect this is the backstory of human history.

Our one hope is that Jesus is still seeking and saving those who are lost—imprisoned within the fortresses they have built. Zaccheus’ story tells us that when we move toward Jesus, wanting to know who he is, he is faithful to move toward us, in surprising ways. He came to set us outcasts and captives free.  Jericho was a city that knew something about walls coming down. How fitting that Zaccheus would have his walls demolished in this city. How fitting that we would invite Jesus to tear down the walls in our own hearts, that we night receive his love and, in turn, be a conduit of it—that the world might see—that He might reign supreme. Regardless of our theology, we are each the one in 99.

Father, thank you that you still are seeking and saving that which is lost—even those parts of us that remain imprisoned. May our hearts grasp our blessed status as the 1 in 99. Overturn any lies in our hearts which have suggested that we have either been overlooked or are without need. Help us to see who you really are. Amen.

 

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