Jesus sees, calls, and transforms the overlooked and broken, offering grace and belonging to all who respond to His invitation, no matter their past.
Friends, picture it with me: a crowded street in Jericho, hot dust swirling, elbows and shoulders jostling for a glimpse of a traveling Teacher. At the edge of that scene is a man who feels small in more ways than one. He has money that can buy him furniture but not friends, status that sparks whispers but not warmth. He is perched on a branch like a boy, hoping for a look, hiding in the leaves. His name is Zacchaeus. Maybe you know the feeling of trying to see from behind the crowd—standing on tiptoe to glimpse hope, wondering if grace has room for your story.
And then, Jesus stops. He looks up. He calls a name. Not “hey you,” not “sir,” not “tax collector.” He calls, “Zacchaeus.” The Shepherd knows His sheep. The Savior speaks the syllables that shape a soul. In a sea of faces, Jesus sees a person. In a city of noise, Jesus speaks with tenderness. Could it be that today He is stopping beneath the tree of your worries, looking up into your life, and calling your name too?
Some of us walked in today feeling unseen and unwanted—overlooked by people, overrun by shame. Others carry the quiet ache of regret—old choices with fresh consequences. Hear this good news in words so clear they calm a racing heart. Tim Keller said, “The gospel is this: We are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope.” That is Zacchaeus’s story, and it can be ours as well.
When Jesus enters a town, tables turn and hearts soften. He seeks the sidelined. He brings mercy to the margins. He walks straight into the house that others avoid, and He turns a stingy heart into a generous one. Have you been praying for someone who seems far off? Have you been telling yourself your past is too tangled for God’s grace? Have you wondered whether people can truly change? Come and see what happens when Jesus calls a name, steps through a doorway, and sits at a table.
Before we open our Bibles, let me say this to the weary and the waiting: Jesus is near. He stands under the limbs of our limitations and says, “Come down. I’m coming over.” That is not a scolding. That is a saving. That is not a wagging finger. That is an open hand. So let’s read the Word that still speaks, still seeks, still saves.
Luke 19:1-10 (KJV) 1 And Jesus entered and passed through Jericho. 2 And, behold, there was a man named Zacchaeus, which was the chief among the publicans, and he was rich. 3 And he sought to see Jesus who he was; and could not for the press, because he was little of stature. 4 And he ran before, and climbed up into a sycomore tree to see him: for he was to pass that way. 5 And when Jesus came to the place, he looked up, and saw him, and said unto him, Zacchaeus, make haste, and come down; for to day I must abide at thy house. 6 And he made haste, and came down, and received him joyfully. 7 And when they saw it, they all murmured, saying, That he was gone to be guest with a man that is a sinner. 8 And Zacchaeus stood, and said unto the Lord; Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have taken any thing from any man by false accusation, I restore him fourfold. 9 And Jesus said unto him, This day is salvation come to this house, forsomuch as he also is a son of Abraham. 10 For the Son of man is come to seek and to save that which was lost.
Opening Prayer: Father, thank You for sending Jesus to seek and to save. Thank You that He knows our names and sees us with compassion. Open our eyes to see Him clearly today. Open our ears to hear His call. Soften our hearts where they have grown hard. Where guilt has lingered, pour grace. Where shame has shouted, speak peace. Where selfishness has settled in, stir holy generosity. Lord Jesus, step under the trees where we hide. Call us down with Your kindness. Sit with us at the tables of our homes and heal what is broken. Give us courage to make things right with others, wisdom to walk in integrity, and love that reaches those our world pushes aside. Holy Spirit, anoint this time. Comfort the hurting, confront the proud, and change us from the inside out. Make us a people who welcome the weary, who restore what we have wronged, and who reflect the heart of our Savior. In the name of Jesus, the Friend of sinners and the Seeker of the lost, amen.
The scene in Luke 19 shows what happens when Jesus sets His attention on a person others avoid. The man in the story is marked by his job, his choices, and his past. People see the label first. Jesus walks right into that tension and makes contact. He does not ask the crowd for approval. He does not seek a safe path. He moves toward the person everyone has pushed to the edge.
“Today I must stay at your house.” That line sits at the center of the story. The word “must” is strong. It sounds like purpose. It sounds like a plan set long before the street filled with people. Jesus does not schedule a later talk in a neutral space. He picks the man’s home. In that world, a meal means closeness. It means you are welcome at my table. So Jesus ties Himself to a man who has harmed his neighbors. He takes His holiness into a room where deals were made and bills were padded. He chooses presence. He brings clean hands into a stained place. He gives weight to a person who had none in the eyes of the town. This is how He works. He goes first. He enters the space where shame had settled in. He does not ask for proof before He comes through the door. He gives a gift of time and attention, and that gift becomes the ground where change can grow.
That move speaks to us. Many people live outside the circle of welcome. Some carry records, addictions, or broken trust. Some bear labels they never picked. The way of Jesus sends us toward them, into homes, into stories, with calm courage and real presence. We go when it is messy. We go when it draws a frown. We go because He said “must,” and His “must” now lives in His people.
The text also shows a personal touch. Jesus speaks to the man with care. He does not use a title. He does not speak in vague terms. He speaks like a friend who knows who he is. This is not a small detail. In a public moment, a person with a stained resume hears his own name as a word of grace. The past is known. The present is seen. The future is opened. The crowd has numbers and noise. Jesus has focus. He calls a person out of the fog. He gives him back a face and a voice. For many of us, this is where hope starts. When we are treated like a case, we shut down. When we are treated like a person, we stand up. To mirror Jesus here, we learn names, we slow down, we listen, we speak in ways that return worth. We stop talking about “those people” and start speaking with a neighbor. We honor the image of God in front of us. A simple sentence can lift a heavy heart when it carries respect.
Think of how that lands on a soul that is tired of being reduced to a file or a rumor. A father hears his name and remembers he is more than his worst choice. A woman hears her name and feels seen after years of being passed by. A teen hears his name and feels a door open. This is the way the Lord works. He addresses the person, and that address begins to heal what shame has taken.
The crowd does not like any of this. Verse 7 says they grumbled. The pushback is loud. The people think this guest is unfit for a rabbi. They speak with suspicion. They police the edges of grace. Jesus does not answer them. He keeps walking toward the table. He holds the weight of their words and still gives Himself to the man in need. Love often needs a thick skin. If we want to move toward people on the margins, we will hear whispers and sometimes direct challenges. There will be seasons when the easy path is to step back. There will be moments when our presence with a neighbor will cost us comfort or standing. This story tells us that the cost is real. It also shows us that the cost is worth it. The good of one person is worth the noise of many critics. In fact, the grumbling makes the grace stand out more clearly. Mercy is seen when it runs against strong winds and keeps its course.
This is a word for the church. We will face pressure to keep our hands clean and our schedules safe. We will face fear of being misunderstood. The Lord calls us to hold steady. To eat with people who are far. To sit in rooms where pain is fresh. To accept the slow work of trust. To keep our eyes on the person across the table, more than the voices around us. It will test our patience. It will change how we plan our days. It will call for prayer, teams, and wise boundaries. It will also put us in the middle of God’s work.
Look at the change that follows. The man stands up and speaks in clear terms about money. He offers half of his goods to the poor. He pledges fourfold repair to any person he has squeezed. This is not a tip. This is strong restitution. The Law spoke of double payback in some cases and fourfold in others. He chooses the heavy path. He moves toward the people he harmed and makes things right. Grace has touched his heart, and now grace moves through his hands. He does not give words alone. He touches the places where his sin had done the most harm. He takes the hit that others had carried. Then Jesus gives a verdict. “Today salvation has come to this house.” He also names him a “son of Abraham.” That line brings him back into the family story. He is not a shadow on the edge anymore. He belongs. The room is different now. Neighbors who had suffered will be heard and paid back. The poor will find relief. The man finds a new path. This is salvation with teeth. It is mercy that makes repair. It is faith that shows in a ledger and a doorstep and a handshake.
This is the pattern Jesus sets for us. When we move toward the people at the edge, we are not offering cheap words. We are bringing the presence of Christ that can rebuild lives. We ask hard questions about harm. We invite clear steps toward repair. We cheer for generosity that costs something. We form plans that include the poor and those who were wronged. And we keep saying what Jesus says in verse 10. He came to seek and to save the lost. That is His heart. That is His work. And that is where we are sent.
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