It's Easter--Are You Listening?

 

 

Luke 24:1-12

Hanging with the drop, the Guillotine, the electric chair, the gas chamber, and lethal injection are all, like crucifixion, means of execution.  Yet, they are unlike crucifixion in on important way.  Strange as it might seem to our modern sensibilities each of these means of execution, unlike crucifixion, were devised to do their work as humanely as possible.  They were designed to minimize the pain and suffering of the victim. 

Crucifixion—death by a cross—was a study in inhumanity, designed to maximize the suffering of the victim.  Describing crucifixion as death be slow torture is accurate bur covers up the brutality inflicted on the one crucified.  And, in the first century, the Romans were masters of this horrific art.  Good Friday recalls how they applied this art to Jesus.

As Luke 24 opens, Jesus has already died and his body has been placed in tomb, the gift of an admirer who could no longer keep his devotion quiet.  It is now the morning of the third day following Jesus’ death.  It is the first day of the week.  Listen to what Luke says. [Read Luke 24:1-12]

As I studied this passage I began to realize something.  It is a skillfully written story.  It has feeling, movement, and tension.  Short as the passage may be, it has both a beginning and an end. Like most stories do.  But here is where we see Luke’s skill.

Luke’s story begins with the end and ends with the beginning.

Let me explain.

Luke begins by telling us about a group of women who were convinced it was the end.

These women Luke writes about had dared to believe Jesus was God’s Anointed One, the Messiah.  Though they may not have fully understood his mission, they believed he had come to change things.  They believed he would bring them closer to God.   They had sat under his inspiring teaching, marveling as stories about a God who was like a father who yearns for his prodigal son to come home.  They had seen him heal the sick and set others free from the power of Satan.  One of the women Luke mentions, Mary Magdalene, could testify to having experienced that liberation.  They had sensed his respect for everyone regardless of social class or gender.  They devoted their time and their possessions to his cause.   Then they had watched him die.  There was nothing “good” about that Friday for them.  For them it was the end.

Do your best to put yourselves in their hearts.  Try to forget you’ve heard the story before and you know what’s about to happen.  Erase Easter from your mental calendar.  Think yourself back to that early morning as these heartbroken woman walked toward the tomb they believed held the body of the man they had placed their hopes in.  Above all, don’t be too critical.  Remember it was a frightening, painful time.  But still they set out on a mission of love.

Heartbroken as they were, they wished to perform a final gesture of respect to honor Jesus.  He had been quickly buried.  Some efforts had been made to prepare the body, but they wanted to do more.  The men burying Jesus had rushed to finish before the Sabbath; they would take their time.  So, at dawn on the first day of the week they set out to do this final act of devotion.

Who were these women?  Luke names some of them.  There was Mary Magdalene, a woman Jesus had set free from “seven demons.”   There was another Mary who was the mother of one of the apostle James the Less, called that to distinguish him from John’s brother James.  There was Joanna, who was the wife of an official in Herod’s court and who may have been healed by Jesus; Joanna used her personal wealth to support Jesus.  Some scholars believe Joanna was Luke’s source for this story.  And there were others Luke for some reason doesn’t name.

We can sympathize with these women.  As they walked to the tomb that morning, the reality of what had happened must have weighed heavily on them.  Maybe they resolved to do their best to keep Jesus’ memory alive.  But they probably knew that in two or three generations their family members would think of Jesus as just a man the old folks used to talk about. 

While they may have had such thoughts, we know from other gospels they had more practical concerns.  They wondered who would roll the heavy stone away from the tomb’s entrance so they could perform their task.  As it happened, when they reached the tomb, they found the stone was already rolled away.  And, the tomb was empty.

Well, at least the body of Jesus wasn’t there.

Now Luke ends this story by telling us of a group of women who were told of a beginning.

Three times in his writings Luke used the phrase “suddenly two men.”  He used it here, at the Transfiguration, and following the Ascension.  In each instance, he is reporting the presence of heavenly visitors.  In this instance, these “two men in dazzling clothes” were angels.

Perhaps Luke intends to remind us that Jesus’ birth was announced by angels to the frightened shepherds.  Now angels have another announcement for these frightened women.

“Why do you seek the living among the dead?

He is not here, but has risen.”

The announcement begins with a kind of heavenly logic:  If you’re looking for Jesus, the cemetery is not the place to begin.

It was an astounding announcement:  Jesus the one they had seen crucified, was alive.  Before they fully grasp this news, the angels go on to explain the cause of their problem.  They hadn’t been listening.  In a gentle rebuke, the angels say, “Remember what he told you back in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be betrayed into the hands of sinful men and be crucified, and that he would rise again on the third day.”

Well, once reminded, they did remember.  And remembering, everything made sense.  So they hurried back to tell “the eleven apostles and the other disciples” the great news.  They told them and, wouldn’t you know it, they didn’t listen.  Actually, they thought what the women said was “pure nonsense.”

There were probably a couple reasons for this response to what the women said.

First, it was women who said it.  I don’t want to make too much of this, but this was a culture that didn’t consider women to be especially reliable witnesses.  A woman couldn’t even testify in court.  So, despite Jesus’ example of treating women with respect, the disciples were still reluctant to accept their report.  Ultimately, they hadn’t listened to Jesus either.

Strangely, this becomes an important pointer to the authenticity of this account.  If Luke or the other gospel writers had wanted to fabricate a story that the mass of people would accept, they wouldn’t have given women such a key role.    Yet each writer presents women as the first to hear and share the news of the resurrection.  That seems to suggest this is just what happened.

The second reason the rejected what the women said is more significant.  Dead people don’t come back to life.  Death is permanent.  Death is the last enemy and cemeteries around the world are reminders of that enemy’s many victories.  In the minds of the disciples who rejected the women’s story as “nonsense,” death had claimed one more victim—Jesus.

Remember, the apostles hadn't listened either.  Three of those apostles had witnessed the Transfiguration where they saw Christ in his glory and heard the Voice from heaven say, "This is my Son, whom I have chosen, listen to Him." Luke brackets the Transfiguration with Jesus' warnings about his death. The Apostles didn't listen to the women because they didn't listen to Jesus.  But remember how Luke crafts his story.

Luke concludes his story with the beginning.  Soon the disciples would be convinced by “many infallible proofs” that Jesus had defeated death.  It would be the beginning of a new way of thinking about God and about the future.  It would be the beginning of Christ’s people carrying on the Risen Christ’s work.

Luke’s story might not be as exciting as some of the other post-Resurrection stories but it presents an important lesson.

Doubt, despair, and confusion are our reward for failing to listen to Jesus.

As I thought about this, I remembered an incident that took place years ago.  Some of you will remember Bob and Cheryl and their two children Lauren and Conner.  On the day Conner was born Pat and I took care of Lauren who was only about five.  We took her out to eat, took her to see the butterflies at Franklin Park, and took her to some other places we thought a little girl might enjoy.  At one point, as we were heading down Broad Street I failed to make a turn Pat had told me to take.  From the back seat I heard Lauren say, “You don’t listen very well, do you, Jim?”

Don’t be smug when you think about these women who hadn’t really listened to Jesus.  Even though we have the benefit of Easter-shaped hindsight sometimes we don’t listen very well. 

When news reports or our experiences fill us with fear we need to say, “I must listen to Jesus when he says, “Don’t let your hearts be troubled.’”

When bitterness and anger consumes us, when we yearn for revenge toward the one who has wounded us, we need to say, “I must listen to Jesus when he says, ‘Forgive your enemies and pray for them.’”

When the challenges of life threaten to crush us, when we feel we can’t face one more day toiling at a thankless job or one more night caring for a loved one, we need to say, “I must listen to Jesus when he says, ‘Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.’”

When we worry that following Jesus will cost our friends, we need to say, “I must listen to Jesus when he says, ‘I assure you that everyone who has given up… brothers or sisters or mother or father or children… for my sake-… will receive now in return a hundred times as many…brothers, sisters, mothers, children—even in the midst of trial.’”

When we complain that life is insipid and we have no purpose, we need to say, “I must listen to Jesus when he says, ‘As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.’”

When we grieve the loss of a loved one who has meant so much to us, we need to say, “I must listen to Jesus when he says, ‘Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted.’”

When we shudder in the face of our own mortality, we need to say, “I must listen to the Risen Jesus when he says, ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me will live, even though they die; and those who live and believe in me will never die.’”

It’s Easter.  Are you listening?

A Ride Into Town

 

 

Luke 19:28-44

Last Sunday was St Patrick's Day.  If you were here you may recall I said most of us would never have a parade in our honor.  On the first Palm Sunday, Jesus didn't so much have a parade as he was the parade.  Others may have fallen in line and entered Jerusalem with him but it certainly wouldn't have been much of a parade without Jesus.

No doubt, among the things the crowds in Jerusalem were discussing as the Passover season began was the Teacher from Nazareth.  He had been gradually attracting attention for a little over three years and now people were beginning to wonder what would happen next.

Some--but perhaps not the majority--wondered if he would declare himself to be the long-awaited Messiah who would bring a new day to the nation.

Some may have wondered if he would call the people to insurrection against Rome and wondered if such an insurrection would be any more successful than the others.

Some may have wondered if he would show up at all.  In fact, the disciples wished he wouldn't.  He had been making ominous predictions about the Romans and crucifixions.

But Jesus was determined to go.  In fact, he had to make his own travel arrangements.

If you and I were going to try to make a memorable entrance to a city planning to celebrate the most significant holiday of the year, we would look for a classic car.  We wold have expected Jesus to look for a white stallion, the kind of horse a Roman commander would ride.

But Jesus had something else in mind.  He recalled that prophecy of Zechariah that spoke of the Messianic King coming to his people riding on just such a humble beast.    You wonder if that donkey was Jesus' way of telling the crowd, "Don't make assumptions about what I'm up to."

Robert Stein writes about Jesus' intention:

 

In conscious fulfillment of the Old Testament prophecy...he arranged for an unridden donkey to be ready for him. Having fetched it, he rode.  Yet he mounted no warrior stallion, for he was meek and humble.  He rode into Jerusalem not to mount a kingly throne but to fulfill his Father's mission.  In majesty he rode on--to die.

 

So, the Triumphal Entry was the setting in motion of the final phase of God's great work through Jesus.

God would be something wondrous and new.  In only a week, the world would never be the same again.

 

God still does wondrous and new things. And what we see in this story is often repeated when He does.

When God is about to do something wondrous and new...we shouldn't be surprised to discover He'd been laying the groundwork beforehand.

For thousands of years God had been preparing the world for the birth of Jesus.  He was at work in the lives of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.  At work in the injustices Joseph faced.  At work in the heart of a prostitute named Rahab so that she allied herself with God's people and became an ancestor of the Messiah.  At work in the life of David.  At work in so many ways to finally bring a puzzled but obedient couple to Bethlehem almost three and a half decades before Jesus took his ride into Jerusalem.

With all this in the background, should a quiet visit to the owner of a donkey surprise us? 

In the 1930s and 1940s, America reeled under a Great Depression and the impact of a world war on two fronts.  At the end of that war, the nation needed spiritual renewal.  Who would have guessed that God was preparing the son of a North Carolina dairy farmer to be the conduit of that renewal? 

Of course if we step back and take a broader look, we see that God was preparing others besides Billy Graham to bring awakening to their nations and regions.  Or getting those nations ready for the attempts to shut out the gospel.  John Sung was the brilliant son of a Chinese Methodist pastor who, equipped with a PhD in chemistry from OSU, might have taught wherever he wanted but chose to be a traveling evangelist throughout most of Asia.  Though he died at 43 on the eve of the communist takeover of his homeland, he made an indelible impact on the area.

No one can say how much of an impact Sung made on the millions of Chinese Christians who have been subject to repression and persecution.  What is clear is the miraculous growth of the Chinese church, despite the efforts of the government to squelch it.  One estimate suggests that some 20,000 Chinese become Christians every day. 

God knew the Chinese church would face the fury of Mao and prepared his people to do remarkable things with only his help.

Who knows what groundwork God is laying right now.

When God is about to do something wondrous and new...We know there will be a role for those willing to take a risk.

The words Jesus instructed his disciples to use in securing the donkey were in the form of a royal request for something to be used for the king's own purpose.  That says something about Jesus' self-understanding.

 But the event says something about the owner as well.  What would happen to the donkey and colt?  Would he ever see them again?  It didn't seem to matter.

When God is about to do something wondrous and new, he my ask us to take risks.  We may be asked to give our time, talents, and goods with no certainty of the outcome. 

On such occasions, we have to respond with simple trust.  The donkey's owner didn't ask if it was a good idea to go riding into Jerusalem during such a turbulent time.  He didn't ask if the demographics suggested another approach, one less likely to antagonize the religious and political leaders.  He didn't ask for guarantees his property wouldn't be confiscated by the authorities.  No, he just allowed Jesus to use the animals as he saw fit.

This story reminds us of the countless, nameless individuals who have had a part in God's work all because they were committed.

 

When God is about to do something wondrous and new...We can expect there will be mixed responses.

Picture the excitement of the crowd.  They were shouting and throwing down their coats as they would for a king about to enter the city.  They were filled with joy, despite any apprehension they may have had.

Of course, we know their enthusiasm would soon turn to shock and disappointment.  Not only would Jesus fail to act as they had believed he would act, the authorities would crucify him.  Their commitment would be tested.  While I think it's unfair to assume the crowd that celebrated his entrance to the city formed the same crowd that would cry "Crucify him," many of them may have assumed they had embraced a false hope.  But we also know that hope would be renewed when they realized God was doing something greater than they expected.

Picture the resistance of the Pharisees. In his last specific mention of the Pharisees, Luke tells us they were displeased about what was happening.  Jesus wasn't one of them.  Not every pharisee was born an aristocrat but, once a pharisee, he didn't keep associating with the untrained and undisciplined. Jesus seemed to relish being around all the "wrong" people.  Then, too, Jesus seemed to consider minor what they considered to be major.  Washing hands and tithing garden herbs didn't seem to interest or impress him.  All this hubbub over Jesus just showed how confused his followers were.

Jesus' response to the Pharisees is interesting.  After telling him to silence his disciples, Jesus told the Pharisees, "I tell you, if my disciples were to keep quiet, the stones will cry out."  The notion that inanimate objects might give praise to God is found in other places.  Psalm 19 begins, "The heavens declare the glory of God."  If Jesus were gesturing toward the stones of the city wall or the stones of the temple, the idea would be that the great city and the beautiful building dedicated to God's glory would not miss the opportunity to give their praise.  But there may be yet another meaning here.  Apparently, some referred to the Gentiles as being like stones.  Trying to teach them the truth of scripture was like trying to teach a stone, the reasoning went.  Jesus may have been looking ahead to the time when the Gentiles would acknowledge him. 

David Garland comments on Jesus' words:  "The primary point of the saying is that silencing the disciples and even silencing Jesus will not negate that Jesus is King, nor will it derail God's purposes."

Picture the absence of the leaders.  Usually, a king would be greeted by the leaders of the city.  They would come out to greet him and enter the city with him.  There would be speeches of welcome and celebration.  The indifference of the leaders amounted to rejection.

This led to Jesus' lament as he approached the city.  In rejecting Jesus and God's plan for his people as revealed in Jesus, the city was sealing its fate.  Decades later, in 66, the city would foolishly rebel against the Romans.  General Titus would lay siege to the city to starve the population into submission.  When the final surrender came, in 70, the city was destroyed along with the temple.  Because the leaders had rejected the chance for peace--real peace--the inevitable outcome of their striving for temporal power would be destruction.

In allowing the Messianic prophecies to be applied to him and in saying that Jerusalem's future was tied to the city's response to him, Jesus was making a bold claim about himself.  He was claiming to be that Redeemer-Deliverer the nation had been waiting for.  But most had their own picture of what that Messiah would be like and it sure wasn't Jesus. 

So, in view of their resistance we can hear a further message in Jesus' words.  His critics are deceiving themselves. He seems to say to them:  If you were who you think you are, you would know the Messiah you want is not the Messiah you need. And, if you were to become the people you think you are, the Messiah you need would be the Messiah you want.

Even today, men and women respond to the work of God in various ways.  In times of awakening, some see God transforming society in ways no social scientist could imagine.  In times of awakening, some are disappointed God seems more interested in saving and remaking their souls than in making them happy.  Some see the missionary enterprise as a reflection of God's love and grace for the entire world; others see the missionary enterprise as a reflection of arrogance and religious bigotry.  We need to pray that we will be neither blind to God's work nor too proud to welcome his blessings whatever the means he uses to bestow them.

When God is about to do something wondrous and new...We can expect that work to be as broad as our need.

 The work of Jesus is about our salvation.  We are right to think of this salvation involving forgiveness and reconciliation to God.  That was certainly accomplished on the cross.  When Jesus speaks of himself here as the One who could give peace he was speaking of more than an absence of military conflict.  He was speaking of peace of heart born out of peace with God, a peace that would create peace with others. Tragically, Jerusalem--the "city of peace" rejected "the Prince of Peace."

But Jesus still offers that peace and many have found it.  As Paul says in Romans 5, "Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ."  The cross waiting at the end of this week would bridge the gap between God and humanity.  Because of that the "dividing wall" that tended to separate people from one another had also been torn down.  The One whose birth inspired the declaration of "peace on earth" would bring to earth the very peace known in heaven. 

Consider this, the Bible pictures humanity as being in rebellion against God.  We have shaken our puny fists toward heaven and challenged God's power.  The psalmist pictures humanity plotting against God, planning to be independent of his power and will.  How does this psalmist picture God responding?  'The One enthroned in heaven," the psalmist says, "laughs; the Lord scoffs at them."

On earth, when one military force finds itself outmatched and outnumbered, it will often send emissaries to the more powerful leader to try to establish peace, to try to avoid the inevitable destruction.  In the Biblical story of our warfare with God, God sends the peace Envoy.  He comes to offer peace, a peace that does not mean subjection and humiliation but a peace that brings blessings no earthly rebels could ever expect to receive from the ruler whose authority they have flouted.

Jesus gives that kind of peace.   The peace Jesus gives means peace in every dimension of life.

Luke implies that Jesus intended to make a difference in more ways than one.

Jesus ends this ride into the city with a visit to the temple.  He hasn't come to pray.  He has come to make it possible for others to pray.  Though he had expelled them near the beginning of his ministry, Jesus finds the abusive money changers once again at work in the temple. 

Taking advantage of the strict rules about what animals could be sacrificed or the kinds of coins that could be used in offerings, these hucksters gouged the poor people who only wanted to come before God in worship.  Historians believe the high priests ignored this travesty because they received a cut of the profits.  As a consequence, these thieves were safer in the temple than the pious.

Once again, Jesus drove them out.  And we are reminded that the salvation Jesus brings involves not only the promise of life in heaven but the hope of new life here as well.  When the church forgets the gospel has a social dimension, it forgets the example of Jesus' own ministry.

Then, too, what Jesus said and did on that ride into Jerusalem ought to warn the church against forgetting the dangers faced by any organization, religious or otherwise.  Structures can become rigid and unchangeable.  Rituals can become mere traditions with their true meaning and significance lost in the past.  Rules and laws replace grace.  Leaders can become power-hungry, jealous of anyone perceived to be threatening their position.  In the eyes of such leaders, people lose their identity as fellow-pilgrims and become objects of scorn because they don't possess the special status accorded the enlightened few.

In predicting the destruction of the temple, Jesus was warning the church against allowing itself to follow the course that forgets its reason for being.

When God is about to do something wondrous and new...We should remember he may do so in a way that is unexpected.

Late on Good Friday afternoon, Jesus' followers would think it was all over.  They would imagine their hopes and dreams were in vain.  They would think they had been wrong.  Then, ....  But that's a story for another day.

Conclusion

God still wants to do new and wondrous things for and through his people.

God still enjoys surprising us.  Fifty years ago, who would have imagined the Chinese church would be one of the fastest growing churches in the world.  A hundred years ago, who would have imagined the global south would be the center of Christian growth.

Of course, God may have a few surprises closer to home.

George Barna recently examined the "unchurched" in America.  He defines the unchurched as those who haven't been in a church, except for a funeral or wedding, in six months or so.  He reported that 62% of the 76 million Americans who almost never attend church consider themselves to be Christians.

Now, admittedly, some of these folks may believe that being born in America makes a person a Christian.  But, consider this, 13% of these men and women who almost never attend church--a church like ours--do attend small groups or house churches at least once a month.  An additional 15% attend such house churches less frequently, but they attend.  So, nearly 30% of those who never attend a "regular" church, do get together with others interested in studying the Bible and sharing times of fellowship.  But church as we know it rarely appeals to them.

Now I by no means believe this is the only venue in which God is at work today.  Still, these findings raise an interesting question.  Wouldn't it be curious if the spiritual awakening we've been praying for came through those who are doing something so very different: people who were not going to church? 

Of course, should such an awakening occur we would eventually realize those people not going to church were doing something more important--they were being the church.

If we hope for God to involve us when he does something new and wondrous, we who still go to church should also resolve to be the church.

 

 

 

 

 

The Kind of Man He Was

 

 

Luke 19:1-10

When Pat and I moved to Fort Worth back in 1970 neither boy had been born.  So our household consisted of Pat, me, and Jo.  Jo was short for Josephine, although he was male—he was named for a character in Little Women.  When some of our new neighbors first saw Jo they thought we had somehow found a pet that was the mix of a small dog of indeterminable breed and a fox.  Our neighbors had never seen a Welsh corgi.

Jo was a gift to Pat, given by the students she directed in a high school musical.  They knew she had lost her beagle and felt the pup would be a better gift than a bunch of roses.  I had heard about corgis but had never seen one.  We quickly fell in love with Jo and have had a corgi or a corgi-mix most of our married life.

Regrettably, they have become popular.  Maybe it’s because we’ve become fascinated with the “royals” and corgis are Queen Elizabeth’s favorite breed.  Today, Pat would have probably been given the roses since a corgi puppy sells for well over a thousand dollars.

Indulge me as I tell you just a little more about them.  The corgi is intelligent, determined, and almost fearless.  Yet, they are so short.  “Corgi” means “dwarf dog.”  The ranchers who first saw Jo didn’t believe me when I told them corgis were cattle dogs.  They’ve been called “big dogs in a small body.”  We realized something was different about Jo when, still a pup, he challenged a St Bernard twice his size and had the St Bernard cowering.   Maybe the man who takes care of the queen’s dogs put it best when he said the corgi displays “the wee man syndrome.”  Smaller than many other dogs, they’re born determined to prove themselves.

I thought of that as I began thinking of Zacchaeus.  Remember how the Sunday school song goes.

Zacchaeus was a wee, little man,

 And a wee, little man was he.

 He climbed up in a sycamore tree,

 For the Lord he wanted to see.

 

It’s a shame to be remembered just because all your life people looked down on you.  Still, that’s the way it was with Zacchaeus

Just who was Zacchaeus?  Luke makes a most important biographical comment when he offers a note on his occupation.  Zacchaeus was a “chief tax-collector.”

In fact, he was the chief tax-collector in Jericho, a resort city.  It was a wealthy city and a man could make lots of money as a tax-collector in such a place.  The Romans didn’t care if tax-collectors gouged people as long as the Empire got its cut.   Many tax-collectors lived by J. R. Ewing’s formula for success:  “Once you give up integrity, the rest is a piece of cake.”  Integrity wasn’t a big deal with men like Zacchaeus.

Still, working for the Romans was seen as selling out his own people.  Why would he do such a thing?  Certainly, it fed his greed.

Then, too, could he have desired some type of retaliation?  We can imagine the kids laughing at him, saying things like, “Zacchaeus is so short his name is bigger than he is.”  It’s not too hard to imagine the little tax man wanting an opportunity to have the last laugh.  When he came to collect taxes you can be pretty sure no one laughed at his height.  They probably addressed him as “Sir.”

But do these motives really explain a man like Zacchaeus?  As powerful as these motives may be, I don’t think they do.

I think that somehow Zacchaeus just wanted to walk a little taller.  Not just physically.  No, I think his inner man wanted to walk just a little taller.  He wanted to be a big man, no matter what the cost.  He wanted to matter.

Maybe that’s why he was so interested in Jesus.  Had he heard that this man Jesus had something to say to men like him?

Certainly the priests who lived in Jericho didn’t have a good word for the likes of Zacchaeus.  The priests may not have been able to keep tax-collectors out of their purses but they could keep them out of their temples.  From their point of view, God had turned his back on them.   Tax-collectors weren’t allowed in the inner court of the temple or to participate in Jewish worship.  Their money wasn’t even welcome in the offerings.

But with Jesus it might be different.  Jesus, the Pharisees constantly complained, was a friend of sinners and tax-collectors.  So, a spark of hope glowed in Zacchaeus’ heart.

That’s why when Zacchaeus heard that Jesus was passing through town; he just had to see him.  And that was easier said than done.  The crowd was so large and so tightly packed that he couldn’t see a thing.  And, trust me, no one was about to give way to a man as despised as Zacchaeus.

If only he could stand on something, climb onto something.  But, wait a minute.   There were trees down the road, sycamore trees.  All he would have to do is climb one of those trees and he could get a good look at Jesus.  That was the game plan.

It’s tough enough for a tall person to climb a tree, but a short man like Zacchaeus is a sight to see.  Remember, the bark of those sycamore trees could be pretty slick.  Zacchaeus probably didn’t make it the first time.    Maybe not the second time.  Then, too, I suppose I don’t have to remind you that dignity is one of the first casualties when you try to climb a tree in a tunic.  Can you imagine that on Judea’s Funniest Home Videos?  Anyway, with scraped knees and rumpled clothing a breathless Zacchaeus finally made it up into the tree.

Zacchaeus may have been surprised at Jesus.  At first glance the man from Galilee looked so ordinary.  He was dressed like a peasant, not like a man whose fame had been parlayed into wealth.  Still, there was a confidence in his walk, he walked tall.  There was a light about his face.  Zacchaeus realized this ordinary-looking man was far from ordinary.

As Jesus approached what was soon to be the most famous sycamore tree in history he stopped.  Zacchaeus looked around to see what had captured the teacher’s attention.  Was there a well-known priest in the crowd?  Did Jesus see someone who had a need, a paralyzed person, a blind person?  Zacchaeus couldn’t spot where Jesus was looking.

Then, he realized those eyes were not looking into the crowd at all; they were looking upward, looking into the tree, his tree.  Jesus was staring at him!  Zacchaeus was uneasy, especially when he realized Jesus was walking over to the tree.  Jesus was obviously going to say something to him.

“Oh no,” Zacchaeus thought, “I had to put myself up here in plain sight.  Now this Jesus is going to let me have it.  He’s going to use me as a sermon illustration.  He’s going to remind the crowd of the dangers of sin—by pointing at me.”

Zacchaeus steeled himself as Jesus began to speak.  “Zacchaeus,” Jesus said, ‘get down her right now.  We’re going to party.”  Zacchaeus blinked and Jesus repeated the strange invitation—even in those days you didn’t invite yourself to someone’s house.   Still, what Jesus had said was clear.  He wanted to dine with Zacchaeus.

When a man has a reason, he can get out of a tree pretty fast.  Zacchaeus had a reason.

As he led Jesus toward his house—the house built by extortion—the taller man matched strides with him.  Zacchaeus usually had to hurry to keep up with most people but this man seemed content to walk at Zacchaeus’ pace.  As they walked, we wonder if he heard the crowds murmur, “That Jesus is going to eat with a sinner.  Some holy man he is.”

The crowds following Jesus were often like that—fickle.  They were thrilled to see Jesus when they thought he might say something profound or do a great miracle, but when he chose to be gracious to the ‘wrong’ person, they were outraged.  Whatever joy they had died when Jesus showed kindness to someone they considered a traitor and an apostate.  Of course, had Jesus invited himself into their homes, it would have been perfectly proper.

But back to Zacchaeus and the rest of the story. 

For all its honest and forthright treatment of sin, the Bible still surprises us with its respect for privacy.

What did these two talk about during that meal?  What questions did Jesus ask his host?  What secrets did Zacchaeus reveal about himself, how did he venture to explain the life-choices he had made?  Perhaps what was said was too personal, too intimate, to be recorded for all subsequent history.  But, if we’re not allowed to know the content of their conversation, we are allowed to see the consequences.

Zacchaeus stood up—maybe a little taller than usual—and made a daring declaration:  “Look, Lord, here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor.”  (Note that a heart filled with greed was replaced by a heart filled with generosity.  By the way, the poor, like the tax-collectors, were sometimes considered to have been abandoned by God.)

Then Zacchaeus continues, “If I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.”  (In that pledge we see not only a promise of restitution; we see a new respect for his countrymen.)

Jesus met that testimony with a word of affirmation and recognition:  “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham.” 

This was a great moment.   Zacchaeus, who had long lived with rejection and censure, needed those words which confirmed his new spiritual condition.  But the words had other implications. 

On the one hand, they remind us of the reality of salvation.   Zacchaeus means “pure,” but he had lived anything but a pure life.  He had taken advantage of his neighbors and built his wealth on avarice.  Jesus had changed him.

Then, too, the words are a gentle reminder that although salvation comes by faith, it is confirmed by works.  Zacchaeus did not receive salvation because he promised to make restitution; he promised to make restitution because he had received salvation.

Just as relevant to the story, Jesus was declaring that, in contrast with to the self-righteous persons who had rejected the diminutive tax-man, Zacchaeus was a real descendent of Abraham.

According to tradition, Zacchaeus lived a long time after his first encounter with Jesus.  His life changed.  It’s even reported he became a leader in the young church, a pastor.  Zacchaeus, who had been so hurtful, became a blessing.  You might imagine that, as this little man ministered lovingly and generously, everyone looked up to him.  Because of his encounter with Jesus, that’s the kind of man he became.

And Jesus?  Well, Jesus said it so clearly that day at the party:  “The Son of Man has come to seek and to save the lost.”

Not long after this, Jesus would fulfill his destiny; he would take the road to Jerusalem and then to the cross.  Palm Sunday, Good Friday, and Easter would take their places on our calendars.  Jesus would continue the ministry he was carrying out that day in Jericho as he changed the life of a “wee little man.”

Jesus would go on seeking and saving the lost.  Just as he did when he walked among us, he continues to search out those who are rejected by polite society, hated because of their mistakes and failures.  He still delights in surprising cynical onlookers by transforming those considered beyond God’s help and love. 

Jesus continues to rescue the “lost” because that’s the kind of Man he is.

Throughout the history of the church, those whose lives have been changed by Jesus have joined him in that work.  They seek the lost so they might know the saving power of Jesus.

Conclusion

Keep that in mind on this St. Patrick’s Day.  I don’t mention Patrick because I want you to begin thinking of green beer, corned beef and cabbage, and shamrocks.  I want to remind you that Patrick—the real Patrick—was a missionary.

Never mind the story of banishing the snakes or the shamrock becoming an illustration of the Trinity, Patrick was driven by a desire to bring the love of God to the Irish. 

Patrick was raised on the west coast of what would become England; he was the son of a prosperous Christian deacon.  In 406, when he was about sixteen, Patrick was kidnapped by Irish pirates and sold as a slave.  Laboring as a shepherd, his devotion to God grew deeper; then after six years God seemed to direct him to flee to a port town where a ship waited to take him back to Britain. 

Soon after his homecoming, instead of harboring bitterness toward those who had enslaved him, Patrick felt called to return to Ireland to preach to the people there.  He trained as a priest and went back to Ireland as a bishop.  In time, he had preached throughout the island and left behind churches wherever he went.  After his death, Ireland became a center of Christianity and the base of missionary operations throughout much of northern Europe.

He was joining Jesus in the same work he was doing in Jericho.  It was the kind of man he had become.

You and I aren’t likely to have a day named after us.  There won’t be any parades honoring us.  But we can continue to join with Jesus in the work of seeking those who need to know God’s love and point them to the One who can change their lives.

Will we be that kind of people?