Standing Tall
by Dr. Ralph F. Wilson
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Christ Powered Life (Rom 5-8)
"I'm not small," the little man would say to himself.
"I'll show them." And over the years he had found
lots of ways to prove it, at least to himself. He had discovered,
for example, that money helped. A rich man always had friends
around, even if he was short.
Of course, some people didn't approve of the way Zacchaeus raked
in his money. The tiny entrepreneur was a small but increasingly
important cog in a great revenue machine that channeled money
from the far-flung provinces of the empire into the coffers of
Rome. He had started as a common tax collector. He had been
given a certain area from which he was obligated to bring in a
specific amount of tax money each year. And he had worked hard
for his money. Farmers and fishermen didn't part with their money
easily.
The little man would have to prod and plead, threaten and cajole.
He would declare an outrageous value on some personal property
only to bring it down a bit when he saw enough fear and anger
in the client's eyes. Yes, he had worked hard. But the beauty
of the system was that whatever money he could bring in over his
allotted quota was his to keep. And money helped this small man
live somewhat larger than life.
Power helped, too. The threat of Roman soldiers breaking in and
confiscating a merchant's entire stock had won many an argument.
And a few years ago he had been promoted. As chief tax collector
for the district, he had several collectors working under him
now. They would skim the money from their clients, he would skim
the profits from his subordinates, and the rest-- always right
at the precise quota amount--would find its way up the chain to
the Roman governor, and from him to Rome itself. Power elevated
the little man.
Of course, power had its price. "Dirty Roman traitor,"
people would whisper as he scurried through the narrow streets
of Jericho. Rotten vegetables would splatter his robe as he turned
into a doorway. Long ago the synagogue had formally excommunicated
him. No self-respecting person would enter his door.
But money and power did buy wonderful parties. His guests would
be some of the other "sinners" in the area, of course,
but "You're a force to be reckoned with," he would tell
himself. "You're a big man about town."
For such a big man about town, it was strange the excitement that
possessed Zacchaeus when he heard that Jesus of Nazareth was headed
into Jericho this dusty, summer afternoon. No matter that he
had figures to check and money to count. He must catch a glimpse
of this itinerant preacher who had caused such a stir up and down
Palestine.
People raced past him to the edge of town to welcome the Master,
but Zacchaeus took this opportunity to climb unnoticed into a
large, spreading sycamore-fig tree that shaded the main street.
His shoulders ached as he pulled himself onto a branch, but he
didn't notice. He could see Jesus at the end of the street now,
mobbed by hundreds of townspeople, clouds of dust rising as the
multitude came closer.
When the throng had nearly reached Zacchaeus' vantage spot, the
Master stopped dead in his tracks. Zacchaeus chuckled as distracted
followers ran into each other behind Jesus, one after another,
until the whole crowd stood still. Maybe I'll get to hear him
teach, thought the little man.
Then Jesus' head turned upward until his eyes met Zacchaeus' eyes.
And the eyes of each person in the crowd looked up, too. Jesus
smiled a peculiar, won't-this-be-fun smile, and spoke quietly
above the hush of the crowd.
"Zacchaeus," he began. How does he know my name? thought
Zacchaeus, turning red all over. How does he know me?
"Zacchaeus," the Master continued, "come down right
away. I just have to stay at your house today."
Zacchaeus almost fell out of the tree. His house? Of course!
Jesus would be impressed with his house. But then the little
man's stomach knotted up within him. Jesus was a holy man. He
was a sinner. How could Jesus come to his house. Didn't he know?
Jesus did know. He could hear people in the crowd mumbling, "He's
going to the house of a sinner," but Jesus just smiled again,
and motioned him down. He does want to talk to me. He knows
my name. It doesn't matter what people say, Jesus cares about
me.
By the time Zacchaeus reached the ground, tears of joy had begun
to flow down his cheeks. The crowd had parted a bit, and he darted
to where Jesus stood, falling on his knees at Jesus' feet. He
felt a warm hand on his shoulder after a moment, and an arm helping
him up. He thought he could see the trace of a tear in Jesus'
eyes, too.
He stood up. "Lord," he began, "here and now I
give half of my possessions to the poor." It just poured
out of Zacchaeus. People gasped in disbelief. Skinflint Zacchaeus?
But Zacchaeus wasn't finished. "And if I've cheated anybody
out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount."
"He means it!" muttered one man who was close enough
to see it all. "He'll do it!"
The crowd began murmuring as the news of Zacchaeus' words were
passed person to person from the center out to the edge of the
crowd. Few people were able to hear Jesus' words as he hugged
the little man. "Today salvation has come to this house,"
he said joyfully, "because this man, too, is a son of Abraham."
At those words Zacchaeus pulled himself up to full height and
beamed. A son of Abraham! The Master himself had said it. I
am a son of Abraham!
Jesus looked around to the bewildered crowd and spoke with such
conviction and force that it seemed as if he were trying to distill
his entire life's purpose in a single sentence: "The Son
of Man came to seek and to save what was lost."
"I swear," said one of the disciples, watching Zacchaeus
half-walk, half-dance beside Jesus as they made their way to the
tax collector's home. "I swear, he doesn't look so little,
so wizened up after all." He scratched his beard. "He
looks taller somehow."
And to tell the truth, Zacchaeus felt ten feet tall.
Based on the Bible story found in Luke 19:1-10
Copyright © 1985-2008 Ralph F. Wilson. <pastor
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