Now a man there named Zaccheus, who was a chief tax collector and a wealthy man, was seeking to see who Jesus was; but he could not see him because of the crowd, for he was short in stature. So, he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see Jesus, who was about to pass that way. When he reached the place, Jesus looked up and said to him, "Zaccheus, come down quickly, for today I must stay at your house."  And he came down quickly and received him with joy. When they all saw this, they began to grumble, saying, "He has gone to stay at the house of a sinner." But Zaccheus said to the Lord, "Behold, half of my possessions, Lord, I shall give to the poor, and if I have extorted anything from anyone, I shall repay it four times over." And Jesus said to him, "Today salvation has come to this house because this man too is a descendant of Abraham. For the Son of All has come to seek and to save what was lost." 

I saw him inching his way to the front of the crowd. Of course, he would be up front, he always was. My boyhood enemy, Samson. Like his namesake, he was tall and handsome and always managed to come out on top. All through school the teachers loved him, the neighbors loved him, and the other boys loved him, not to mention the girls! And my life growing up was another story. For as long as I could remember I never quite measured up to the other boys, literally and figuratively. Now, in manhood, I still stood a good head under the average man, and Samson was not the average man. No, he was almost a head taller than average and had the kind of looks that caused women and men alike to draw in their breath when they saw him. Now here he was heading to the front of the crowd even though he would have been able to see from back where I stood, unable to worm my way through the bigger and stronger men and been unable to nudge my way through the crowd of women, afraid to get too close to them. Women never liked me much. I saw them snicker at my size and knew they would never give me the time of day.

But I had shown them all - the boys I went to school with, the girls who hid when they saw me approaching, the teachers who made me work twice as hard as the other students to get one tiny bit of praise. Even my parents and siblings who were always ashamed of me, wondering what sin of theirs had been visited upon me causing me to be so small. I made up for my size by accumulating a fortune greater than any of them could imagine. While the boys I went to school with were laboring as carpenters, picking olives, or pressing grapes for wine, I was busy collecting taxes. The Roman occupation was the best thing that ever happened to me. 

When the Romans first entered our village, we all hated them. But I was so eager to leave my miserable childhood behind me, that I quickly found a way to use the Romans to gain an advantage for myself. I realized that being a collector of the Roman taxes was the best way for me to gain stature in the community, if not physically, at least politically. Now, everyone still hated me, but at least they feared me. And they envied me. I could extort a lot of money from the very people who taunted me throughout my childhood. Most of them hated me as much as the Romans. Except for Samson. Even though he was still good looking and popular, he was not a wealthy man, and he gladly paid the little taxes he owed. I was even beginning to feel a little sorry for him, although he was still the most popular young man in town. And now here he was, happily moving his way through the crowd to be at the front when this Jesus passed by.

The crowds were pressing close together, despite the heat of the day. Jesus was coming, this strange young man who spoke the words of a prophet, healed the sick, and treated everyone with respect. Everyone wanted to get a good look at Jesus even if he just passed through the town for a short while. There was a small furor building near the back of the crowd and those near to the eye of the storm began laughing when they saw what was causing the stir. It was none other than Zacchaeus, the hated tax collector, who was trying to push his way through the crowd, so he could see Jesus too.

Well, Jesus surely would not want to see him! The little man was a criminal! Taking their hard-earned money; why, he was even worse than the Romans. “I’m surprised he didn’t hire someone to hold him on their shoulders, so he could see,” one woman laughed. They hoped he would be trampled to death, and they would finally be rid of him. They laughed even harder when they saw to what lengths Zacchaeus would go to rise above the crowd - he had climbed a tree! Well, if nothing else, you had to give the man credit for being smart - and bold! Jesus was getting close to the sycamore tree now and the crowd was humming. They hoped he would rebuke Zacchaeus or maybe even force him to share his wealth with them. But then they got the shock of their life. Jesus spoke to Zacchaeus and called him down from the tree. He was going to dine at Zacchaeus’ house! How could he eat with that snake? Why would he want to consort with a sinner of the worst kind, a friend of the Romans!

No one was more shocked than I was when he called my name than I was. How did he even know my name? If he knew who I was, then he surely knew my profession. I had been told that he could read people’s thoughts and that just looking at someone he could tell everything about them. Surely if this was true, he would not be calling me by name and wanting to sup with me. But yes, it was true, he was coming to my house that very day! What would I do? What would I say? He came into my house that day and he ignored the obvious wealth of my home and sat on the floor, ignoring the soft cushions and divans I had made especially for entertaining even though very few ever entered my house. So, what could I do, I sat down next to him on the floor and felt like my size no longer mattered, the fact that I had cheated all my townspeople didn’t matter, my relationship with the Romans no longer mattered. He simply cared about me! It was too much to bear.

Instantly I hated the wealth that surrounded me, I no longer cared if I was short and ugly or tall and handsome; it just didn't matter anymore.  We talked, we laughed, we drank wine, we ate little, but I doubt either of us was hungry for food. I know I was not. I was hungry for the very words that came from his mouth. I could almost taste the words. I wanted to chew them and savor them and be filled with them. And he spoke on and on. I can’t even remember now exactly what he said, only that he said it to me. He gazed deeply into my eyes as he spoke. And I knew he cared about me. He didn’t care about anything I had done before. He didn’t even seem to care when I told him I would repay all those I had cheated and that I would give my money to the poor. Even that didn't seem to matter to him. All that mattered to him was ME! And all that mattered to me was that I had gotten to see up close, the face of Jesus.

This story is from one of my recently released books, The Face of Jesus, 2^nd Edition. You can pick up the book here. It would be a great book for a study group. There are questions for study and reflection included in the book.