When Jesus came by, he looked up at Zacchaeus and called him by name. “Zacchaeus!” he said. “Quick, come down! I must be a guest in your home today.” [Luke 19:8 (NLT)]
The little ones at Sunday school love singing the song about the “wee little man” who “climbed up in a sycamore tree, for the Lord he wanted to see.” While “wee little man” makes Zacchaeus sound somewhat endearing, if we were casting him in a movie, we’d hire the short man audiences love to hate: 4’10” Danny DeVito who, with his deep raspy voice, has specialized in playing mean-spirited ruthless people. Zacchaeus was a tax collector (publican) and could have been the poster boy for corruption in Judea. Under Roman rule, people bid on the right to collect taxes. While publicans had to pay a fixed amount to Rome, in lieu of salary, they could charge far more than required and keep the difference for themselves. As the chief tax collector in Jericho, Zacchaeus got a share of everybody’s taxes and had become a rich man.
Although Jewish, a publican was excluded from Jewish social life. Considered unclean, he was made to stand with the Gentiles at the Temple. Despised by both the Romans and his fellow countrymen as a corrupt collaborator, Zacchaeus may have been rich but it’s hard to think he was very happy.
By this time in Jesus’s ministry, our Lord had attracted quite a following and a crowd of people surrounded Him as He entered Jericho. Whether it was a guilty conscience, discontent, or simply curiosity, Zacchaeus wanted to see this unusual rabbi. Perhaps the miserable man had heard that Jesus was a friend of tax collectors and other sinners. Unable to see over the heads of those in front of him, the little man unsuccessfully tried to make his way through the crush of people. As disliked as he was, there may have been a few extra shoves and elbow jabs as he was jostled by the crowd. Determined to see Jesus, Zacchaeus ran ahead and climbed up into a tree to get a better look when He went by.
The children’s favorite part of the Zacchaeus song comes when they point their fingers, and call (as did Jesus), “Zacchaeus, you come down, for I’m going to your house today!” I don’t think the children wonder why Jesus chose this man but I’m sure the people of Jericho did! Picture a crowd following someone like the Pope. Imagine their shock if he stopped his motorcade and called into the crowd, “Bernie Madoff, come over here. I must come to your house today!” Why would someone as holy as the Pope want to spend time with the notorious Ponzi schemer who bilked thousands out of billions? Stunned, the crowd around Jesus was asking a similar question, “Why would the good rabbi pick out Zacchaeus, a notorious sinner, and want to spend time with him?”
Perhaps, out of all of those people looking for a Messiah to save them from Roman rule, Zacchaeus was the only one who saw the need for someone to save him from sin! Jesus hadn’t come for the self-righteous; He came for the ones who knew they were unrighteous. Rather than the self-satisfied, Jesus came for the lost. Like the publican in Jesus’s parable about the Pharisee and tax collector (found in Luke 18), Zacchaeus knew who and what he was: a sinner in need of redemption.
After God rejected Saul as king, He sent Samuel to the home of Jesse, telling him that one of Jesse’s sons had been selected as the next king. Samuel was sure he’d found the new king after taking one look at Eliab, Jesse’s eldest boy. Like Saul, Eliab must have been tall, muscular, and handsome, but mere good looks hadn’t served the people well with Saul. Telling Samuel not to judge by outward appearances, God said that He judges by what’s in the heart. In Samuel’s day, only God could see into the heart; that’s not so today!
The thing I’ll miss most when we move to southwest Florida permanently is easy access to my grandchildren. This summer I’ve relished watching the little guys frolic in the sprinkler, race their scooters down the sidewalk, climb the monkey bars, decorate the driveway with colored chalk, and play bags with their cousins. They insisted on helping in the kitchen, offered to set the table, listened intently to every story read to them, and never tired of endless games of Crazy-Eights and Kings’ Corners. Their squeals of delight at the holiday fireworks and when they mastered riding the Irish Mail (where they pumped with their arms and steered with their feet) were music to my ears. They asked endless questions and pondered every answer. Wanting to please us, they even were obedient. Seeing their unbridled enthusiasm, energy, and desire both to learn and please, I wondered why I wasn’t like that. After all, God wants us to be like children.
I showed the antique dealer the old silver tray we’d found at an antique store many years ago. Having just read Stephanie Kallo’s novel Broken for You, I’d been drawn to it. Hers was a story of secrets and redemption that told of how two women salvaged their brokenness, first by smashing priceless antique porcelain pieces that had been stolen from Jews during the Holocaust, and then by repurposing the fragments into beautiful mosaics. The novel was an homage to the beauty of broken people and broken things. The tray’s handle had been damaged and soldered back on and I imagine much of the silver plate had worn off its top. It was, however, a thing of beauty because it had been artistically covered with broken pieces of antique painted china. The dealer told me that artists often come into her shop looking for chipped pieces of decorative porcelain. Because they plan on breaking it to use in jewelry or mosaics like my tray, they don’t mind chips or cracks.
After driving out an evil spirit from a man in Capernaum, Jesus went to the home of Andrew and Peter. When He learned that Peter’s mother-in-law was sick with a fever, Jesus went to her bedside, took her hand, helped her up, and the fever was gone. Having shown his authority over both demon possession and physical disease that day, reports of His ability circulated throughout town. That evening, a crowd gathered wanting to be healed by Jesus.
When writing about Elisha, the widow, and the oil, I thought the first conversation between the prophet and distraught woman worth a deeper look. From their exchange, it is clear that the prophet either knew or knew of the widow’s husband. One of Elisha’s followers, the widow reminds the prophet of how much her husband revered and feared the Lord.
Devotions of the Heart 