A Big Change for a Small Man

Can I invite you to turn back with me to Luke’s Gospel and to chapter 19?

Now, with our Bibles open, let’s ask for God’s help:

Make the Book live to me, O Lord,
Show me yourself within your Word,
Show me myself and show me my Savior,
And make the Book live to me.[1]

Amen.

If your Bible is open there at the nineteenth chapter of Luke’s Gospel and you allow your eye simply to scan the two pages which should be before you, then, if you look carefully, you will realize that this is Luke’s description of the last personal encounter with Jesus before he enters Jerusalem. Following this, we have the parable of the ten minas, to which we’ll come, and then, in verse 28, the triumphal entry into Jerusalem. This is the last occasion outside of the city when Jesus will have the opportunity to meet and greet those who are interested in seeing him. And what we have in these verses is, of course, one of the most striking stories of conversion that is contained in all of Luke’s Gospel.

Back in chapter 5, some of you may remember that there was a party which took place at the home of another tax collector. His name was Levi. He became part of Jesus’ immediate group of disciples. And when Jesus had called Levi from his tax collector’s booth and Levi had left everything and got up to follow Jesus, he then had a big party at his house. And on this occasion, he invited all of his friends. And as a result, of course, a great crowd of tax collectors and others were eating with them.[2] I’ve sometimes wondered if on that occasion and at that party there was this little tax collector there, and he’d been present on that occasion when, as a result of their hanging together as a group (because they needed to hold together; they weren’t really very well-liked by the population), he may have had opportunity to get an inkling of things.

However, I’ve only thought about it sparingly, and not for very long, because I think it seems unlikely, because if he had already met with Jesus, then it would be surprising that Luke would tell us that this little man was concerned to see who Jesus was. So perhaps the word had just leaked out from this occasion—out through the tax collector fraternity, as it were—and this little man had found out that there had been this amazing party, and a bunch of people that weren’t usually invited to the synagogue services had shown up. And on that occasion, of course—and this is the reason that I turn to it—the Pharisees and the teachers of the law had complained to the disciples, saying, “Why does Jesus eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners?” And Jesus, of course, had told them, “It’s not the healthy who need a doctor, but it’s the sick. I didn’t come to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.”[3]

Now, that explanation by Jesus is germane to the incident which is before us now in the nineteenth chapter. And indeed, Luke’s summary statement of the ministry of Jesus here in verse 10 ties in very cohesively with the prior statement to which we’re referring in the fifth chapter. “The Son of Man,” he says in verse 10, “came to seek and to save what was lost.” Why did Jesus show up at the party in the home of Levi? Because there were a lot of people there that needed to meet Jesus. Why did Jesus take time to stop under the sycamore tree and meet this interesting little man? Because this interesting little man needed to meet Jesus. Why would Christ, as it were, stop at the seats of individuals gathered here in this congregation this morning and knock, as it were, on the door of your heart? The answer is the exact same, despite the passage of time. Because there are individuals here this morning who fit the category whom Jesus came to address: the Son of Man came seeking to save the lost people.

Now, some of us don’t know that we’re in that category, and so we need the Bible to speak to our hearts and show us that what we didn’t understand has become apparent to us and that we are in need of this seeking Savior. If you have any interest in getting beyond simply hearing a man talk about the Bible, then in your heart and deep in your spirit, as you listen to my words, you should be saying, “Lord Jesus Christ, speak to me as if there were not another person in this room. Speak to me through your Word. Call me. Seek me. I need to meet you.” And to the extent that that is the expression of your heart, then you will discover that Jesus comes seeking to save the likes of you.

Background on Jericho

But here we are. It’s Cleveland. It’s a long way from Zacchaeus’s life. It’s a long way from Jericho, and if you read this—“Jesus entered Jericho”—you probably don’t have much of a concept at all. You may even think that he entered some kind of sleepy little village, and this man crawled himself out of his bed and showed up, and there were a few people hanging around. Or you may have some other idea in your mind, but the chances are most of us have got no concept at all.

Let me sketch in a little of the background for you as a result of my own investigation. You say, “How do you know all these things?” Because I read books; clearly not because I was present in Jericho on the occasion. And so you, too, can read books, and indeed, you do read books, and some of you may have read the same books as me, in which case this will be no surprise to you.

Jericho was a desirable place to live. People moved there in the same way that people move from certain cities in America to others—usually on the basis of location and climate. It was known as the “City of the Palms.” One Roman historian described it as a little paradise.[4] It was full of beautiful fragrances. The sycamore trees, the cypress flowers, the balsam plantations—all of these were striking to anyone who visited Jericho. Antony had given to his love, Cleopatra, the revenues of the balsam plantations when he was part of the jurisdiction that oversaw that region.

If we had gone up to this city at the time that is described for us here and in the immediate time following it, we would have discovered that it was dominated in its skyline by four fortresses, and one of these was the royal palace. Archelaus had been responsible for building these magnificent gardens which were present. And the descriptions are of feathery palm trees blowing in the breeze, of great stretches of rose gardens as far as you could see, the large sweet-scented balsam plantations out behind these royal gardens, and the perfume from the balsam being carried as a fragrance on the breeze—so much so that “Jericho” actually means “the perfumed place.” And so, as people entered it, they would have said, “Mm! This place even smells good.”

And furthermore, the climate was very desirable. The historians tell us that even in the winter, the residents could only bear the lightest clothing of linen on their backs. So, this was like Palm Springs, or better than Palm Springs. It was, at the same time, on the caravan route from Damascus to Arabia. Consequently, it was not only a desirable place to live because of its climate and because of its beauty but also because of its commercial prospects. And so, if you could live there or if you’d been born there, you enjoyed all of the benefits that accrued.

At the same time, it was a military center. The population was a variegated population: families employed in the various responsibilities of the jurisdictions of politics and of the military. All of these gardens required gardeners. The soldiers were there because they needed to watch out for the city. Publicans, such as Zacchaeus, were plenty, because with all of this trade and with all of this real estate, there were taxes galore. There were always travelers. There were always visitors. It had, if you like, a tourist trade. And when the tourists arrived, they met the priests, and they looked over their shoulder, and they said, “He looks like a shady character. Do you think he’s possibly a robber?” Because “a certain man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among thieves, [who] stripped him of his raiment … and departed, leaving him half dead.”[5] And out on those limestone cave areas, it was just full of bandits and robbers. And, of course, they had to come into the town to do their business as well. You could have met religious zealots. You could have met all of these different people—families gathering and life going on.

And in the middle of all of that, because of its location as the last station on the road to Jerusalem for all of the celebrations, it was customary at certain times in the year for processions to be going through Jericho. And this journey from Galilee or from Perea up to Jerusalem took people inevitably along this road. It was customary, when a festive crowd came through the town, that the people would all come out and greet them. Now, life has taken on all kinds of different pictures for many of us, but the simplicity of many of our lives when we were younger and perhaps lived in more rural settings was such that it wasn’t unfamiliar for us to go out of our homes or into our gardens or into our yards simply because somebody or something was coming down the street. It’s hard to imagine much that would get us out of the citadels in which we live today, shackled away as we are behind all of our electronic gadgetry, but it was such that when the crowd came through, the people came out to welcome them and to watch them. There would be men in the gathering who simply wouldn’t want to miss the occasion. They were routinely there, wondering: “I wonder who will be in the crowd today.” And when the word would come that a crowd was on its way, any peculiar notions would, of course, be passed quickly through the community.

So do you think that anybody was missing from this bystanders group when the people said, “You know, about six miles away at the moment, at the fords of the Jordan, there is a company of people making their way towards Jerusalem, and Jesus of Nazareth is right in the heart of the group”? Jesus of Nazareth! The buzz would have gone out: “The prophet from Nazareth, the carpenter from Nazareth, the man who did the miracles, the one who’s done the healings—he is in the group. He’s in the group. He’s on the way! He’s on the way!” And suddenly, the whole city is stirred as they anticipate not just any festival procession but a unique one, because right at the very core of it is this character, Jesus of Nazareth.

So men who, presumably, on other occasions would have let their wives go (“Ah, no, no, I don’t want to go trick-or-treating. You go out. I don’t really have any interest in it at all. No, I don’t want to go there. No, you go there. Let me know how it is,” that kind of thing), on this day, they go out, because this is like no other procession that has come through. Saying to their friends, “Oh, I didn’t expect to see you here.” “Oh yes,” said the fellow. “I couldn’t miss this one. I wanted to at least see him. I want to see if he’s tall. I want to see if he’s short. I want to see him. I wanted to see this Jesus of Nazareth.” Women holding up their babies above the crowd in the hope that he would do for their children what he had been doing in other places—namely, take them and bless them and pronounce blessing upon them.[6] People wondering, saying to one another, “Do you think he’ll stop? Do you think he’ll just pass through?” “I wonder,” says somebody in the crowd, “if he’ll do a miracle here?” Somebody said, “Do you think he’s going to do one of those stories that he does? Do you think he’ll stop? Do you think he’ll just do one of those great stories?” “I wonder, will he be the guest of somebody in Jericho? I wonder if he’s going to go to one of the leaders’ homes, or perhaps to one of the religious figures. What do you think is going to happen?”

The Seeker in the Sycamore

Of all the possibilities that buzzed through the minds of the assembled throng, probably there was none less likely than what actually took place. And probably of all the people in the crowd, there was nobody who probably could have guaranteed to himself never, ever having the chance to meet this Christ. Because after all, this little man to whom we’re introduced was not exactly in the mainstream of Jericho’s life. He was on the periphery of it. He was on the outskirts of it.

Look at what we’re told about him: “A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus.” If you allow your eye to go back up to verse 35, you see this kind of symmetry, don’t you? “As Jesus approached Jericho, a blind man was sitting [there] by the roadside.”[7] So, from the story of one man who couldn’t see to another man who couldn’t see, but for different reasons.

Zacchaeus, Zaccai—his name actually means “the just” or “the pure,” which is an indication of the longings that his parents must have had for this little boy when they brought him, in the custom of the time, before the Lord and into the temple. And they must have said, “O God, we want little Zach here to become the embodiment of his name. We want him to be just, and we want him to be pure.” And what an irony that he should grow up called “the pure one” or “the just one” when his whole life is about embezzlement, and about bribery, and about corruption, and about lining his nest, and about the fact that people said, “I can’t understand why anybody would want to hang around with Zaccai—with that guy Zaccai. I can’t imagine it!”

Now, what do we know? Well, we know that he had a house—probably a quite nice one. We know that he had a job—definitely a despised one. We know that he had money, that he was actually wealthy—verse 2. We know also that he was short in stature—verse 3. And we also know that he had a desire, because “he wanted to see who Jesus was.”

“He wanted to see who Jesus was.” It’s interesting, isn’t it? Some may be here this morning, and actually, the reason you’ve begun to come along to Parkside is because, in various environments, you’re finding that the Bible is taught, and what you want to do is you want to find out who this Jesus was. And we’re so glad that you’re here. Now, clearly you’re not going to meet him in physical terms the way that Zacchaeus was privileged to do, but you may meet him in the Bible as it unfolds for us—and as God, in this mystery and this wonder, takes the truth of the Bible and creates faith within the hearts of the earnest seeker.

So, Zacchaeus had to go to his bed the previous night. Whether it was the previous night or whether he awakened in the morning we don’t know. It’s all conjecture. But if it had been in the evening, he might have said to himself as he put his slippers underneath the bed, he said, “You know, when I get up in the morning, I’m going to go out there, and I’m going to see this Jesus. No matter what else happens tomorrow, I’m going to get a glimpse of this Jesus.” I wonder why? Curiosity alone? Was it just that he was a kind of investigative little man? He was curious about things, and he didn’t want to let anything to pass him by, and so curiosity was taking him out onto the street? Or was it, as I suggested earlier, the possibility of a connection in the fraternity of the tax collectors—maybe even with Levi himself? Or certainly that the word had got out?

Was it possibly as a result of his conscience? When he lay in his bed at night, and he looked up at the ceiling, and he thought about his life, and he looked across his bedroom, and he saw all that his ill-gotten gain had managed to provide for him—as he pulled the beautiful silks over him, as he looked at his wardrobe, as he saw his shoes, as he saw the finest of things—and it was like daggers into his heart as he realized, “You know, your mom and dad, they called you Zacchaeus because they longed for you to be pure and to be righteous, and you are impure and you’re unrighteous.” Was it his conscience? Was he saying to himself, “I can’t keep on like this,” the way some of you may have arrived at church this morning? Oh, no one else around you knows, but that’s what’s been happening to you as you’ve been driving in your car. As your life has confronted you, and as you realize the gap that exists between where you are and where you need to be, you’ve said to yourself, “I can’t go on like this. I can’t keep on like this.”

Was it perhaps because of the compassion that he had learned filled the eyes and the heart of this Jesus of Nazareth? Which, of course, would have been very appealing to him. It would have been so unlike the harsh leaders and the religious teachers of Israel, who, frankly, just had nothing to do with him or his kind. There was no welcome for him at the local synagogue. There was nobody saying to him, you know, “We have an evangelistic opportunity we’d like you to come to.” No, he was just snubbed and abused and marginalized. So the news that this Jesus of Nazareth, with a compassionate heart, was coming may have been a draw in itself.

Or was it the fact that Jesus had made so many his companions? That the crowd was growing? Oh, it wasn’t huge, but it was significant. That every so often as he went through the business of his days, he found that there were others saying, you know, “I[’ve] found a friend in Jesus—he’s everything to me”?[8] People were saying, “You know, I was in such and such a place, and I met Christ.” And he’s saying to them, “What do you mean you ‘met Christ’?” “Well,” they said, “I don’t just mean that I saw him but that I actually was encountered by him, and he has become my Friend, and he has become my Lord, and he has become my Savior.” And Zacchaeus is saying to himself, “I don’t understand that kind of thing. Everything that I’ve known of religion is out there and beyond me and is dull and is cold and is abstract. This companionship…” For companionship’s a big draw to a lonely man, isn’t it? Companionship’s a big draw to the girl who feels lost in the crowd. Zacchaeus maybe found himself saying, “The day-to-day level of my living is really fairly meaningless. Underneath the superficial level of my life, I put my feet down, and I hope for rock, and all I find is a shriveling loneliness. Yeah, I’m going to go, and I’m going to see Jesus.”

Somewhere within this Zacchaeus there was a deep, nameless, irresistible urge to meet Christ. We’re going to find out just how that happens in a moment or two—or the mystery of it, at least. But I had a conversation with someone this week, and it was clear to me as I sat and listened to the gentleman speak with me that there is within his life—in fact, he was prepared to acknowledge it—there is within his life a deep, nameless, irresistible urge to know Christ. And I said to him, “This is a wonderful thing. And you should be greatly encouraged by this, because by your nature, you have no interest in knowing Christ.” “There is none that seeketh God; no, not one.”[9] It’s not as if everybody is roaming around just looking for the chance to meet Jesus. By and large, the two million people of greater Cleveland this morning have no interest in Jesus at all—or if they do, it’s a superficial interest that is catered to two or three times a year. But it’s not that the people are in the streets saying, “Excuse me, could you tell me where to meet Jesus?” Did anybody stop you at a traffic light and roll the window down and say to you, “Excuse me, could you tell me where I might meet Jesus today?” Has anyone said that to you? No, because by and large, people have no interest in meeting Jesus. Therefore, when within your heart there is a deep, nameless urgency within you saying, “I’ve got to find this Christ; I’ve got to know this Christ,” then it is an indication of the fact that this Christ for whom you’re seeking is actually—as Zacchaeus was to discover—seeking for you.

Now, there were hindrances. There always are. There were hindrances in the previous story for the blind man. He couldn’t see who it was. He had to ask, “What’s all the hullabaloo?” They told him, and then he said… When he found out that it was Jesus, then he started to shout for Jesus.[10] This man has a hindrance in that he’s small. Big crowd, wee guy, can’t see; therefore, he’s going to have to do something about it.

I understand this. I used to go to soccer games. It’s funny for me to think about it now, but when I was really small, and when we stood for those occasions, it wasn’t unusual for me to take two bricks to a soccer game. You realize how life has changed with all the hooliganism that is represented: the idea of walking into a soccer game today somewhere in the United Kingdom carrying two large bricks is absolutely phenomenal to me. In fact, I think I’m making it up even as I describe it, it sounds so far-fetched. But I took the two bricks from my uncle’s yard, and then I put them on the ground, and then I stood on them, because I was too small to see the people standing in front of me, and nobody sat down. Even now, I think I could use those bricks on many occasions.

But the fact is that this man determined that he would cast aside all restraint, all concerns about what his neighbors may say, and he would go run ahead of the crowd, because he knew that it was coming along that way—verse 4. There was only one way along, and he knew he was coming along that road, so he said to himself, “Well, what I’ll do is I’ll buzz up ahead of this crowd, then I’ll climb up in a tree”—the wide and welcoming branches of the sycamore that come low enough down that a wee guy could get a start on it. No point in climbing up in a tree where he needs a ladder to get to the first branch. This kind of tree made it possible for him at least to make a beginning. And so he climbed up into a sycamore tree, waiting for Jesus to come along.

Jesus comes along. The focus moves now from Zacchaeus looking for Jesus to Jesus—verse 5—speaking to Zacchaeus: “When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up.” It’s quite striking, isn’t it? Because all of the faces would be at eye level to Jesus—the majority of them. The people in the crowd would be standing in their front gardens or whatever it was along the sides of the road, and as Jesus came down in the procession, he would be able to look, and he would be at eye gaze to the vast majority of the people. And yet he turns his gaze away from the gathered throng, and he looks up into the tree. And there sits Danny DeVito.

And he can’t believe his eyes. I mean, what he wanted to do, he said to himself the night before, was get a glimpse of this man. So he realized, “I’m going to have to do something fairly dramatic.” So he climbs a tree. He’s up in a tree, perched like a bird looking down off the branches, hopeful of the fact that he may get a chance to see from an angle as Jesus comes through, and the amazing thing is that Jesus actually stops under the tree. (He must have said to himself, “You know what? I am good.” You know, “This is Zacchaeus at his best. Can I pick a tree!” you know. “No wonder I’ve been able to do these people as well as I have. Look at this. I’ve picked the very tree! Oh! He’s looking at me.”)

From Curiosity to Conversion

So, the least likely to be noticed, the most hindered in coming, the most concerned of all is the one that Jesus addresses. Principle: the first will be last; the last will be first.[11] The snobs will be rejected; the humble will be welcomed. The religious snobs will receive the most stinging condemnations, and the poor slobs will receive the most wonderful welcomes.

And there was a lady, and she had a necklace, and it had ten coins, and she lost one, and she swept the place out, ’cause she wanted the one even though she had the nine.[12] There was a shepherd, and he had a hundred sheep, and he had ninety-nine in the fold, and he went out into the darkness of the night, because although he had ninety-nine with him, he wanted the one that wasn’t there.[13] And Jesus comes to make his last journey through Jericho on his way to Jerusalem—his last personal encounter—and do you think he stopped under this tree by chance? No, he’s working all things out according to the eternal counsel of God’s will.[14] This is a divine appointment.

There are throngs of people in the street, and there’s only one guy up the tree, and it is to the man up the tree that he speaks. “Wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles.”[15] I can’t read these chapters here now, and I’m in Roof. And I’m on a big Fiddler on the Roof kick. I just bought the remake of Fiddler on the Roof on CD.

My kids say, you know, “You’re so old, Dad, and messed up. What are you listening to?”

“I’m listening to Fiddler on the Roof.”

“Oh dear. Oh dear.”

But I was thinking, you know, “Who’s looking for who here?” The eyes of Christ fasten on him. They look up to him! The eyes of heaven look up into the tree. The eyes of heaven look down onto the earth. Suddenly, he gazes into the eyes of this Christ. And not only that: his ears are transfixed.

“Zacchaeus!”

“He knows my name,” he says to himself. “He knows my every thought. He sees each tear that falls, and he hears me when I call.”[16]

Do you realize that Jesus has such an intimate awareness of you as this? He knows your name! He knows where you are. He’s got your address. He knows your email. And he knows your name that goes with your email address. He knows everything about you. He seeks to save the lost people.

“I’m going to go and see if I can see him.” Jesus says, “Listen, come down immediately.” Why? “I must stay at your house today”—this divine necessity. Why is there a “must” there? Because of verse 10. Why must he stay at the house? Because he’s come “to seek and to save what was lost.” Zacchaeus is lost. He must go to his house, because the lost one is to be the found one. And the necessity that Christ conveys in verse 5 is more than matched by the hospitality that Zacchaeus displays in verse 6: “He came down at once,” and he “welcomed him gladly.”

And in the afternoon sun of this new day, here in the heart of this man, a transformation is taking place—a new creation.[17] The angels are singing; the sons of God are shouting together.[18] And in his little heart—in his little messed-up, busy, energetic, wealthy, isolated little soul—there is all of a sudden a melody! There is all of a sudden a joyfulness! There’s something going on here as he comes slithering down the tree. It’s not clear to him what’s going on. He couldn’t… If you asked him, said, “Excuse me, Zacchaeus. Could I just have a word with you? Could you explain to me the doctrine of justification by faith?”—he said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re doing. I… Who are you? I’ll talk to you later. I’ve got to get down the tree. Jesus of Nazareth is here, said he must come to my house. I’ll talk with you later.”

“No, no, excuse me! We were wondering about sanctification and how it fits…”

“No, no, no. Sorry, I don’t know anything about that at all! I know nothing about that! Jesus is down the tree. I’m going down the tree. He’s coming to my house. Talk to you later. Bye!”

Were you here the other evening when Helen Roseveare spoke of how she came to Christ? She said that in all of her emptiness, in all of her loneliness, suddenly the friendship of Christ consumed her in her room at Cambridge University. Suddenly, she was enveloped in the wonder of his love. She had never met anyone that could explain to her the details of what was taking place.

Well, why would we be surprised by this? “You see the evidence of the wind,” Jesus says. “You know the wind blows. You can’t tell where it’s coming from or where it’s going. So it is of everyone who is born of the Spirit of God.”[19] Oh, it will eventually unfold. It will eventually be unpacked. Eventually, Zacchaeus will be able to go through the foundations of the faith, and he’ll be able to put all the pieces in the puzzle together. But for now, his favorite hymn—his favorite hymn is

I know not how the Spirit moves,
Convincing [men] of sin,
Revealing Jesus through the Word
[And] creating faith in him.

But I know whom I have believed.[20]

“I know I was up the tree, messed up. I came down the tree. He came to my house. I’ve never been the same since.” That’s conversion! This is not joining the church. This is not ceremonial approbation. This is a dramatic, dynamic encounter with God. That’s what we’re about at Parkside Church: we’re about seeing unbelieving people become the committed companions of Jesus. And we have a problem: we cannot effect that transaction. Only God can. That’s why we have the verb where we have it: to “see” unbelieving people, not to “make” unbelieving people the committed followers of Jesus. ’Cause we could never make them. But we have seen them. And we’d love to see more. And you are one of the ones that we would love to see.

So, what’s the response of the crowd? Verse 7: they’re ticked. “Of all the people he could have gone and spent time with, goodness gracious! Zacchaeus! Man! I was here from five o’clock this morning waiting for a chance to shake his hand, and he comes here, stops under a tree… How he knew Zacchaeus was up in that tree I’ll never know,” somebody said to his friend. “I mean, I didn’t… Did you know Zacchaeus was up there? I never knew he was up there. It’s amazing—Zacchaeus climbing a tree. Isn’t that funny? Hey, a little publican climbing a tree! Man, he must have really wanted to see Jesus, don’t you think? Because that’s embarrassing, climbing trees.”

I mean, you want to figure this in contemporary terms: this is like somebody who’s a kind of well-heeled executive living in Shaker Heights climbing up on the top of the roof at the Rapid station down there at Shaker Square, and all dressed in his three-piece suit ready to go to work. And he doesn’t care who sees him, because he is so desperate to meet this Christ! And when he comes skidding down off the roof and is welcomed into his home, he’s happy that everybody knows, ’cause he’s so overwhelmed with the fact that he stopped right there.

So the crowd all begins to mutter, “He’s gone to the guest of a sinner, a sinner…” And the interesting thing is, we’ve got no record of the conversation between Jesus and Zacchaeus, do we? Now, wouldn’t you like to know what went on in the house? I mean, where did they start? What did Jesus say? “Okay, Zacchaeus, first of all let’s talk about this.” Maybe we’ll find out. It makes me think of the Christmas carol:

How silently, how silently,
The wondrous gift [was] given!
[As] God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of his heaven.[21]

A veil of silence cast over the most important conversation of all! Everybody doesn’t need to know everything about you and Jesus. It’s not everybody’s business about everything.

But when there’s been that personal encounter with Jesus, then it will be apparent because of the transformation that takes place. And in Zacchaeus’s case, of course, it was very, very obvious. He had been on the fiddle, and he quits being on the fiddle. He’d been taking people to the cleaners; now he’s taking people on vacation. He had been doing all of this funny stuff in relationship to business and money, and so he stands up and he says, “Lord, I’m done with all of that.” People say, “Well, what happened to you, Zacchaeus? What do you mean you’re done with that?”

His fraternity brothers, on the first day that they’re going out again on one of their road trips, said, “Hey, you know what? I think we can make a killing on this one. Because the way they’ve got this tax system set up, if you…” And then they go into elaborate explanation. Zacchaeus says, “I’m out.”

They say, “What do you mean you’re out? Oh, do you think you’re Mr. Pure or something? Or Mr. Zaccai? Mr. Righteous? You going all righteous on us now, are you, Zacchaeus? What do you think you’re on about? Turned over a new leaf, have you, Zacchaeus? Got religion, Zacchaeus?”

“No, I don’t know. I don’t know any of that. I’m telling you: I went up the tree, I came down the tree, he came to my house, and it’s changed. I mean, you know how much I love this stuff. I invented most of these fiddles! I’m a genius at this! But I lost the taste. I lost the desire. Things are different. Something dramatic has happened to me.”

And the explanation’s there from Jesus—verse 9. What’s going on here? Well, “today salvation has come to this house.” He’s a true son of Abraham now. “Abraham believed God.”[22] He trusted in God. Abraham wasn’t made the friend of God as a result of all the things he did. Abraham was the friend of God as a result of God’s gracious kindness to him. And Abraham responds in childlike trust, and they go on together in companionship.

Oh, I can imagine Zacchaeus wrestling with this when, finally, he closes the door and Jesus proceeds with the rest of his journey. And he’s talking out loud to himself in the kitchen. He’s walking up and down, and he says, “You know, I went out there to get a glimpse of him. I went up the tree in the hope that I might see him. And apparently,” he says to himself, “apparently, he came to Jericho looking for me. I can’t understand this,” he said. “That he would come to Jericho looking for me! ‘I’ve found a friend, oh such a friend! He loved me ere I knew him; he drew me with the chords of love, and thus he bound me to him.’[23] You see, I went up the tree ’cause I was looking for him, and he stopped at the bottom of the tree because he was looking for me.”

Jesus comes seeking to save the lost. Do you know him? Do you know the companionship that this man discovered? Are you a companion of Christ—he who has conquered death and is able to share his life with you forever? Here in companionship with Christ is forgiveness.

You see, Zacchaeus needed a whole new start. He needed a whole deal where he got all of his past, murky, dark stuff dealt with—all of his cheating, and all of his lying, and all of the things that he was hardly even prepared to admit to himself when he looked up at the ceiling in his bedroom at night. Listen: that’s what Jesus offers when he comes to save. He grants to us forgiveness. No one else offers this. No one else can offer it, because nobody else picked up the tab for all your sin and all of your rebellion. He paid the price when he died upon the cross. The reason for his death upon the cross is because we are lost, and we need to be found. And here in companionship with Jesus is forgiveness. Here in companionship with Jesus is significance. Significance. You say, “Well, Zacchaeus had significance.” No. He had wealth. He had a house. He had a job. He had all of that stuff. But he was an insignificant little character.

And some of you feel that way today. You feel like you’re a cog in the machinery. You think you’re adrift on the freeway of life. And here is the wonder of it: Jesus comes seeking you—yes, actually seeking you. You! Not just “you,” but you! Not a generic you but a specific you. That’s significant—to be adopted by the King! An orphan on the street picked up by the carriage and taken home to the royal palace! Here in companionship with Jesus there is purpose. Now Zacchaeus knew what he was supposed to do with his life: don’t go out and cheat people blind but actually to know God and to enjoy God. Here in Zacchaeus’s life, there was a challenge. And for you, if you would entrust yourself to the companionship of Jesus, there is a challenge as well. He stood up, and he said, “I’ve done this, and I’m now doing this.”

It is very costly to say no to my sin, to say no to my selfishness, to say no to my secrecy. But it is not as costly as saying no to the Savior.

Here for Zacchaeus, in the companionship of Jesus, there was a gift to be accepted. There is no indication that Jesus said to him, “Now, if you’ll do this, and if you’ll do this, and if you’ll do this, then perhaps we can put a deal together whereby I may accept you.” But no, he comes, and he says, “Zacchaeus, I want you to come down. I am coming to your house today. I must come to your house today.” And Zacchaeus walks out the door, and it all becomes apparent. See, because the entry fee into this kingdom of God about which Luke is speaking so much—the entry fee has been paid. You couldn’t come up with enough—I couldn’t come up with enough—to gain entry into the welcome of heaven. The entry fee is paid. But the annual subscription is all that you’ve got. Because to be welcomed by the companionship of Jesus will cost us our sins. We cannot hold on to Jesus as our Savior and at the same time hold on vigorously to sin—to things in my life from which he wants to set me free. It doesn’t work that way. Therefore, it means saying no to my sins. It means saying no to my selfishness, my independence, my running of my own deal. It means saying, “Lord Jesus Christ, I want you to take the whole deal. Take my home. Take my finances. Take my job. Take my marriage. Take my kids. I want to be for good and for all with you.”

And it means also it will cost me not only saying no to my sins and saying no to my selfishness but saying no to my secrecy. People say, “Well, you know, religion is a private matter. You don’t want to get involved with those things.” No, it’s never a private matter in the New Testament. It is a personal matter, but it’s not private. And Jesus said, “I want you to be a candle in the dark. I want you to be salt in the midst of rot.”[24]

Make no mistake: it is very, very costly to accept the gift of companionship in Christ—but not as costly as rejecting it. It is very costly to say no to my sin, to say no to my selfishness, to say no to my secrecy. But it is not as costly as saying no to the Savior. “For what would it profit a man if he gained the whole world and lost his own soul?”[25]

Father, we thank you that one can plant and another can water, but only you can make things grow.[26] And we pray that you will grow seed within our lives: the seeds of faith, the seeds of repentance and of trust in Jesus. We pray that you will come down the rows of this church and that you will stop, even as you stopped at the tree there with Zacchaeus, and call names and call them into forgiveness and purpose and to companionship with yourself.

And may the grace of the Lord Jesus, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit rest upon and remain with each one, now and forevermore. Amen.

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[1] R. Hudson Pope, “Make the Book Live to Me.” Language modernized.

[2] See Luke 5:27–29.

[3] Luke 5:30–32 (paraphrased).

[4] Josephus, Jewish War 4.8.3.

[5] Luke 10:30 (KJV).

[6] See Luke 18:15–17.

[7] Luke 18:35 (NIV 1984).

[8] Charles W. Fry, “The Lily of the Valley” (1881).

[9] Romans 3:10–11 (paraphrased).

[10] See Luke 18:35–42.

[11] See Matthew 19:30; 20:16; Luke 13:30.

[12] See Luke 15:8–10.

[13] See Luke 15:1–7.

[14] See Ephesians 1:11.

[15] Sheldon Harnick, “Miracle of Miracles” (1964).

[16] Tommy Walker, “He Knows My Name” (1996).

[17] See 2 Corinthians 5:17.

[18] See Luke 15:7, 10.

[19] John 3:8 (paraphrased).

[20] Daniel Webster Whittle, “I Know Not Why God’s Wondrous Grace” (1883).

[21] Phillips Brooks, “O Little Town of Bethlehem” (1868).

[22] Romans 4:3 (NIV 1984).

[23] James G. Small, “I’ve Found a Friend” (1866).

[24] Matthew 5:13–16 (paraphrased).

[25] Matthew 16:26; Mark 8:36; Luke 9:25 (paraphrased).

[26] See 1 Corinthians 3:7.