The middle of the week has a way of showing us ourselves. By Wednesday, the good intentions of Monday have usually bumped into real life. You snapped at someone. You put off the thing you promised to do. You were a little more selfish, a little more anxious, a little less like Jesus than you meant to be. And somewhere in the back of your mind a voice says: get yourself together first, then come back to God.
Luke tells us about a man who had every reason to believe that voice.
“There was a man named Zacchaeus. He was a chief tax collector, and he was rich. He was trying to see who Jesus was, and couldn’t because of the crowd, because he was short.” (Luke 19:2-3)
A man up a tree
Zacchaeus wasn’t just unpopular. He was the kind of person a whole town could agree to resent. Tax collectors worked for Rome and often took extra for themselves, and he was the chief one in Jericho. His wealth had been built, at least in part, on other people’s losses.
And yet something in him wanted to see Jesus. Not to argue, not to be seen, just to look. The crowd wasn’t going to make room for him, so he did something a little undignified for a rich, important man: he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree (Luke 19:4).
I love that. There’s no speech about repentance yet. There’s no plan to change. There’s just a man who is curious, a bit desperate, and willing to look silly to catch a glimpse of Jesus walking by.
Maybe that’s all you have today too. Not a polished faith. Just a quiet wanting, somewhere under the noise, to see Him.
He looked up
“When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and saw him, and said to him, ‘Zacchaeus, hurry and come down, for today I must stay at your house.’” (Luke 19:5)
Out of all the people pressing in on Him that day, Jesus stops under one tree and looks up. He calls Zacchaeus by name. And then He does something nobody expected: He invites Himself over. Today. I must.
Notice what Jesus doesn’t say. He doesn’t say, “Come down, give back the money, and then maybe we’ll talk.” He doesn’t make a list of conditions. The welcome comes first. The table comes first. Jesus is willing to be seen walking into the house of the man everyone else had written off.
The crowd noticed. “He has gone in to lodge with a man who is a sinner,” they grumbled (Luke 19:7). Jesus didn’t seem to mind the reputation.
Change that comes from being loved
And here’s the beautiful part. Zacchaeus does change, but look at the order:
“He hurried, came down, and received him joyfully.” (Luke 19:6)
Joy first. Then, standing in his own home with Jesus as his guest, Zacchaeus says he’ll give half of what he owns to the poor and pay back four times anything he took unfairly (Luke 19:8). Nobody forced it out of him. It poured out of a man who had just been loved before he deserved it.
That’s how Jesus works on us. We think we have to change so that He’ll come close. He comes close, and that’s what changes us.
Jesus sums it up in one sentence that is worth carrying through the rest of today:
“For the Son of Man came to seek and to save that which was lost.” (Luke 19:10)
He came looking. You’re not the one who has to find the way back on your own. He is already walking down your street, already looking up into whatever tree you’ve climbed.
Come down this afternoon
So whatever this week has shown you about yourself, you don’t have to fix it before you talk to Him. Come down out of the tree. Let Him into the messy house, the unfinished work, the conversation you’d rather avoid. Receive Him joyfully, and let the changes come from there.
He’s not waiting at a distance for you to get better. He’s saying your name and asking to stay.
A midday prayer
Lord Jesus, thank You for looking up and seeing me, even here, even halfway through a week I haven’t handled well. I want to see You. Come into my house today, into the parts I’d rather keep hidden. I receive You with joy. Change whatever You want to change in me, not so You’ll love me, but because You already do. Amen.