People: Zacchaeus
When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” (Luke 19:5)
Outsiders in God’s Kingdom
Jericho must have been loud that day. But not just from footsteps and the market noise of people, but also, loud with judgment. Because when the people saw Zacchaeus, they didn’t just see an average man. To some, they saw a tax collector. For others, a traitor or even worse, a thief. To them, Zacchaeus was the kind of man you wished bad things about behind his back, and you definitely would never invite to dinner. Zacchaeus was a man who had wealth, but he did not have peace. He had a position, but he did not have a belonging. He had what we call today “visibility” or “virality”, but no real connections. And if we’re being absolutely honest, some of us know exactly what that can feel like.
To be known for your worst moments or even a simple mistake.
To be reduced down to the version of you that you didn’t have control over.
To have the story about you already told from one moment of your life, with no one really knowing the true story or the whole person.
To be surrounded by people and still feel like an outsider, still feel all alone, and still feel so misunderstood.
So, what does Zacchaeus do? He does something that someone will call undignified or even childlike. He climbs a tree! A grown man, who is wealthy and powerful, starts climbing a tree like a child just to get a glimpse of Jesus. Because when you’re desperate for something real, you stop caring how you look when you’re trying to get a hold of it. Then, in that moment, in search of something real, it happens, Jesus stops. Not at all with the loudest voice, and not at the most righteous person in the crowd. He stops at that tree, looks up, and calls Zacchaeus by name. This reminds me of a song by Tasha Cobbs, He Knows My Name. Jesus didn’t call Zacchaeus a sinner. He did not call him a tax collector. He did not call him the problem. He simply called him by his name. “Zacchaeus” (Luke 19:5).
This is where everything begins to shift because before Zacchaeus's repentance, before he began to try to restore things, or try to make anything right, Jesus chooses him. Here is the invitation: He says come down. I’m staying at your house today.
Just for a moment, let that sit with you. Jesus invites himself into the home of a man whom everyone else has already written off. I can imagine in the crowds how the mumbling begins to start, and I can only imagine how the heart of Zacchaeus begins to change because grace will always offend people who are more comfortable with judgment. But something happens at that table in Zacchaeus' house that day. Something much deeper than simple behavior modification, but a change in heart posture. Something that had more power over Zacchaeus than the public shame.
Zacchaeus stands up and says, “I’ll give half of what I own to the poor… and if I’ve cheated anyone, I’ll pay them back four times over” (Luke 19:8). Notice this: Jesus didn’t demand repayment from Zacchaeus, and he didn’t shame Zacchaeus into change. But he did create a space where transformation could take place, and Zacchaeus didn’t just apologize. He began the process of restoration in order to be restored. The doorway for this invitation was opened by Zacchaeus's boldness and willingness to go up in a tree and search for something real that could change him. This is what real repentance looks like, not just an “I’m sorry,” but I am changing my heart to make it right genuinely. It’s not just an emotion, but a holy action. This means taking action that is set apart and sacred. It’s not just conviction, but it is a repair with the right heart posture.
Jesus responds with something radical, “Today salvation has come to this house” (Luke 19:9). Not because Zacchaeus was perfect, but because Zacchaeus was willing and he took action. Then, Jesus gives us the mission statement of His ministry: “The Son of Man came to seek and save the lost.” He did not say the Son of Man came to save the polished and perfect. Nor did he say the ones who have it all together, not the ones who have it already figured out. The lost are the overlooked ones; people who are judged, sitting at the edge of the room, wondering if there is still a seat at the table for them.
Here’s the truth we all would like to believe: we would’ve welcomed Zacchaeus as a brother in Christ. But if we’re being honest, sometimes we’re more like the crowd than like Jesus. Subconsciously, we begin to categorize people. Unintentionally, we begin to keep score, and in some ways, we decide who deserves access to love and who needs to earn it. But let’s look deeper here, Jesus flips the order of how typical society looks. In Jesus’ order, belonging comes before behavior, connection comes before correction, and love comes before change. This shows his spirit of grace and his heart of mercy.
The truth is, the story of Zacchaeus isn’t just a story about one person’s experience. It’s a mirror asking, “Where are you an outsider?" Where have you disqualified yourself from being loved? Have you allowed your past to become your identity? On the other side of this mirror, the questions become: Where are you like the crowd? Who have you labeled? Who have you kept at a distance?
The thing is, Jesus still stops at trees. He is still calling names. He still chooses people others overlook and sits at tables no one else would sit at. Jesus also offers you a seat at
the table, a seat that no one can take from you. Maybe today, he is calling you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Frank Ivey is a husband, father, brother, and friend who is deeply committed to growing, loving, and showing up fully in the lives of those around him. He holds a master's degree in health services and is a Made for Pax Fellow in the Contemplative Activism + Spiritual Formation Cohort. He’s passionate about becoming a better man through self-awareness, faith, and real-life experience. You can learn more about his services, here.