Born a Jew.
Now a tax collector.
Now an outcast.
It deeply wounded him when he’d been ejected upon accepting his new position. It was anticipated (but nonetheless frightening) when he was kept from entering the synagogue, uninvited to weekly Shabbat dinners, disinherited from his family, and targeted by the community serving his childhood god. But as time passed, he cared less and less what they thought because, frankly, he was better off. More than surviving his isolation, he was thriving from profits.
Growing up, he heard stories about the Lord’s promised Messiah. Back then, he had listened starry-eyed at the thought of the people of YHWH rising to prominence again. He had seen how the Romans treated his father and looked forward to YHWH keeping His promise and putting the enemy in their place. But now, he had outgrown those stories. Now, he had joined hands with “the enemy,” and it was mutually beneficial.
Nevertheless, when he heard about a man who was healing the blind and lame, touching lepers and making them clean, frustrating religious leaders and mesmerizing the crowds… a formerly dormant part of his heart leapt: hope.
Jesus was rumored to have arrived in Jericho today. So, when I heard shouting and cheering in the road, I knew He’d come. I took measures to conceal my identity, but people recognized me anyway. Former friends and neighbors made a concerted effort to press me out and prevent me from seeing Him as He walked up the road.
I had no chance to see Him over the crowd and no way to get through. So, driven by curiosity and determination, I ran to a tree along the road and climbed it. Now above the crowd, I looked for the man I had heard about, but what I saw was underwhelming.
There was nothing incredible about this man. What did I expect? A glowing messenger of the God? The makings of my childhood fairytales?
I turned to descend the tree, feeling foolish and disappointed when a cry rang out over the noise of the crowd.
“Zacchaeus!”
I froze. Surely I hadn’t heard what I thought I heard.
“Zacchaeus, come down immediately.”
I turned toward the voice, and my heart dropped. That man was speaking to me.
The gaze of Jesus was on me, as I trembled like a fool, clinging to the tree above Him. The crowd lobbed several insults (and rocks).
He had called me by name. How does He know my name? Had the synagogue leaders sent Him to condemn me? I shouldn’t have come. “I’m sorry, my Lord. I shouldn’t have come. Allow me to depart in peace.”
“Zacchaeus, my brother, I must stay at your house today. Come down now, and let us go.”
It had never been so quiet in the streets of Jericho. Someone scoffed; many shuffled their feet uncomfortably; everyone waited.
“My Lord, You… what?”
He extended His hand and smiled at me—I couldn’t remember the last time someone had smiled at me. “I said, come down that I might stay at your house.”
“Lord, forgive me, but I cannot.”
“If you do not know how to keep me at your house, then I will teach you.”
“No, my Lord. I mean…” I struggled for words to explain why He could not stay with me, the scorn of the city. “It has been years since I last hosted at my table. I haven’t shared a meal with anyone since…”
“Well, if you have forgotten,” He interrupted, “then I shall just have to remind you.”
“Lord…” I may as well say it. “I am a tax collector.”
“And I am in need of a place to rest tonight. Would you deny Me your hospitality?”
“Of course not, my Lord.”
In a panicked and less-than-dignified manner, I slid down the trunk of the tree. The sea of people parted and grumbled as I approached Jesus. But the closer I got to Him, the less I noticed the disgust of the crowd. My heart pounded with every step until I reached Him.
“My Lord,” I whispered to Him, “There are other houses—ones held in higher esteem than my own—where you would be welcomed this day.”
“I know.” He smiled at me again, and my heart leapt. “Let us go.”
“Zacchaeus, you are bleeding.” Reclining at my table, He pointed at my forearms and ankles where the bark of the tree had left scratches in my hurried ascent and descent.
“Yes, I suppose I was a little desperate to see You, more desperate than I thought.” I laughed. “I didn’t expect you to want to see me though. Honestly,” I paused, “I’ve found this confusing. Are you a prophet of God or not?”
“I came to seek and save the lost. I came for you.”
We ate for a few minutes in silence as I pondered stories of old and new revelations. This is not what I expected the servant of God to be like. This is not how I expected today to go. Everything I thought I had known about YHWH (and myself) was changing with every breath I took in this man’s presence.
“This has changed me to the core. Nothing can ever be the same for me after today. Lord, what do I do? What can I do?”
He smiled at me again, and I suddenly knew the answer.
“My Lord and my God, I will live to make you smile.”
“Today, you climbed a tree, bled, and then welcomed me. And so, salvation has come to this house. Let not the next events be lost on you, son of Abraham. For the Son of Man will achieve salvation for the world.”
JustAnotherWillow 