IF I WERE ZACCHEAUS THAT DAY

Copyright: Cherry M. Stoltz 2003

                        I know people think I’m a fool. They despise Tax Collecters. Unless I climb this tree I won't be able to see over their heads. Avoiding eye contact with those who stare in amazement, derision or hate - or those who are laughing at me, I keep my eyes firmly fixed on a very ordinary man walking calmly in the midst of the clamour. He appears so relaxed and confident . . . yet strangely vulnerable. It doesn’t take long to realize that he must be the ONE.

                        Hopefully he’ll walk right past. I don’t want him to see me in this embarrassing position. Oh no, he’s looking straight up! I sense the crowd’s disapproval and wish I didn’t care what they think! Jesus actually looks happy to see me. His voice is thrilling. It rings out over the murmuring and he calls out my name. He knows me – but how? He calls with such urgency and joy! I can’t seem to clamber down the tree fast enough. When I stumble he quickly reaches out to stop me from falling. His hand is warm and strong and gentle. He’s very tall but I feel incredibly safe at his side. He looks down on me but I’m ten feet tall!

                        I can’t believe it. He wants to visit me – in my home! Why? There are so many other people to choose from and many of them live very good lives. Why me? If I voice my thoughts he might change his mind. I want to sing and dance all the way home. I think he’d be glad but it would be better to wait until we’re alone - if that’s possible. The crowd is following us closely, pushing and shoving like greedy women at a bargain sale.

                        Jesus steps over my threshold and the dim room suddenly grows lighter. He gently thanks me for having him and reclines on the couch, patting the place to his right. He wants me to sit next to him - in the place of honour! He leans closer and looks at me without saying a word. I see eternity in His eyes. I see my life. I see my filth. He touches me gently on the arm and I start to weep because he knows. I want to turn away but can't. The crowd mutters even louder now but Jesus is all I can think of. He compels me to meet his gaze. His expressive eyes glisten. Tears hover like precious diamonds on his eyelashes and his face is filled with love. I can’t stand it . . . yet it’s impossible to turn away. What’s happening? Waves of pure, visible love pour from his breast straight into my heart and I know that I know that I know that this man is GOD!

            How do I say thank you? What can I give Him? Money would be an insult! He turns to the crowd and looks at them in the same way He looked at me. He loves them as well! The filthy blind man, the crazy demoniac, the leering prostitute, the twisted cripple, the arrogant Pharisee – all of them.  God loves them all! I don’t have to hide behind this mask anymore, because he loves me too – just as I am.

            If Jesus loves the crowd, so can I! We all have something to hide! Suddenly I hear myself speaking and the words come tumbling out. "Lord, please show me how to love them as well. I’ve hated them for so long. Forgive me! I want to start over again with a clean slate.” His answer is all I ever hoped for but never expected in my wildest dreams. He tells me I’m saved. Saved from myself. He says I’m free. Free to be me. He turns to the crowd and says exultantly, " His faith has saved him and set him free!"

            How can I do anything but believe? I was lost yet He found me!