Jesus’s run-in with Zacchaeus is one of the most enduring texts in all of Scripture. Broadly speaking, we’re all familiar with all the characters, the setting, and all the beats of this story (Luke 19:1–10), from the “wee little man” himself, the tree, Jesus passing by, the meal they share, and an unforeseen response that sees a swindler vow to return what he’d stolen, and then some. The redemption of Zacchaeus is so plain to see we teach this Bible story to kids ad nauseam. But like many other church-y things that are geared toward kids, adults are too often guilty of overlooking what is so readily apparent.
Zacchaeus’s story is almost so familiar we tend not to let ourselves be taken by surprise by it. But what can we glean from this little story that we haven’t gleaned before?
1. Building Up to This
Contextual details abound, each of which gestures to this story being the culmination of a series of teachings and not some random one-off. From the parable of the tax collector (Luke 18:9–14) to the childlike faith that Jesus delights in (Luke 18:16–17) to a rich young man whose love for wealth precluded him from becoming a disciple (Luke 18:18–30), Jesus’s encounter with Zacchaeus serves as a remarkable scene in which all those threads are drawn together. After all, Zacchaeus is the chief tax collector who childishly climbs a tree to see Jesus, which results in him making the exact opposite decision of the rich young man. In that sense, this moment isn’t random as much as it is a crescendo of grace.
From healing the lepers (Luke 17:11–19) all the way through giving the blind man his sight (Luke 18:35–43), up to Zacchaeus himself, Jesus distills what his mission and ministry are all about—namely, “to seek and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10). In all of these moments, Jesus demonstrates just how eager he was to find lost and hurting sheep, and bring them home (Ezek. 34:11, 16; Matt. 18:12)—an enterprise that includes us just as much as Zacchaeus. His testimony in the aftermath of his time with Jesus is what all sinners can say whenever Jesus comes looking for them. And he always comes looking.
2. From Praising to Grumbling
Once Jesus “set his face to go to Jerusalem” (Luke 9:51), a certain resolve or intentionality seems to accompany his every step. As he draws nearer to that city and the cross that would be erected just outside of it, he never fails to notice the sinners and sufferers that meet him along the way. In Jericho, Jesus stops for the chief tax collector, Zacchaeus, who had climbed a tree just to lay eyes on him (Luke 19:1–6). But when Jesus invited himself over to Zacchaeus’s house, “they all grumbled” (Luke 19:7). But who, exactly, is the “they”?
We’ve heard grumbling of this sort on a previous occasion, when the Lord told a trilogy of parables as a retort to the self-righteous murmurs of the “scribes and Pharisees” (Luke 15:2). But in this instance, “they” isn’t reserved to just the pompous religious aristocracy; it includes everyone who just a moment ago “gave praise to God” (Luke 18:43).
The contrast between praising and grumbling is deliberate, and serves to show what every person in that crowd truly valued. Bartimaeus, the blind beggar who sat by the road into Jericho (Luke 18:42; cf. Mark 10:46), was deemed worthy of grace and healing, and the crowd rejoiced to see it. Zacchaeus, the chief tax collector, however, wasn’t deemed worthy of any such grace, least of all the grace of a Rabbi’s company. So they all “grumbled” and muttered curses under their breath. But, of course, Jesus knew what he was doing. He knew the kind of reaction he’d get when word got out that he’d gone to be the houseguest of such a notorious sinner.
3. The Man No One Went to Visit
As the Sunday school lessons emphasize, Zacchaeus was one of the most hated men in his city, and for good reason. Tax collectors, or “publicans” as they’re also known, essentially worked as government contractors for the Roman Empire, collecting taxes and raising money to fund Rome’s continued global advancement. This, as you might imagine, made Jewish tax collectors doubly hated and largely regarded as irredeemable. They were treated as traitorous collaborators who were content to get rich at the expense of their own brothers.
And though Luke tells us that Zacchaeus was “rich,” exorbitantly so, that wealth came with an equally exorbitant amount of social stigma. Piercing glares and damning jeers would follow him everywhere he went. It’s a wonder he dared to venture into the city at all, knowing what kind of looks and remarks his mere presence would garner. But there he was, one of the most influential men in Jericho, up a tree, with Jesus staring up at him. “Zacchaeus,” he shouts, “hurry and come down, for I must stay at your house today” (Luke 19:5).
Jesus’s request implies more than a one-time dinner; more like lodging overnight. Of course, entering, let alone staying, in the home of a known sinner meant risking being identified with that sinner, and Zacchaeus’s life was bespeckled with sin. Even if no one could prove it, they saw what his extortion led to, which explains why that crowd was so scandalized by Jesus’s offer. As Rev. Alexander Maclaren so vividly put it, “There was not a ragged beggar in Jericho who would not have thought himself degraded by putting his foot across the threshold that Jesus now says He will cross.” There goes that Rabbi from Galilee, fraternizing with sinners again (Luke 7:34). But before you shake your head at that crowd for their disgust at Jesus’s actions, if we’re honest with ourselves, we’re just like them.
We all have a list of people we think don’t deserve grace, and you’re likely on somebody else’s. And this, I think, was precisely Jesus’s point. He was more than willing to hobnob with the despised and rejected if it meant restoring them. He knew what Zacchaeus was and invited himself over anyway. Likewise, he knows what you are and seeks you out, too, so much so that he died for you while you were still a sinner (Rom. 5:8). Jesus never let the norms of society and propriety govern whom he ministered to, whom he showed grace to.
Part of the good news of Christ’s salvation is the realization that he’s perfectly okay with scandalizing his own name if it means saving yours. It’s the reason he came.
4. When Grace Comes to a Cursed Place
When Jesus “set his face to go to Jerusalem,” we’re meant to see that as a deliberate move. His time was drawing near, the time when his mission would be fulfilled. Every step on that journey, then, is imbued with a sense of purpose, which also means that every interaction on the road to Jerusalem further unfurled what he had come to accomplish. Jericho, therefore, wasn’t merely another city to pass through as quickly as possible. It was an opportunity to show everyone, from his most enthusiastic followers to his most ardent detractors, what his mission was.
This was already somewhat crystallized when the blind man got his sight back (Luke 18:42), which put a beaming spotlight on the fact that Jesus was the Messiah (Luke 4:18–19; Isa. 61:1–3). But along with that, it’s worth noting that Jericho was one of the most ancient cities in the history of humanity. It was “older than dirt,” as they say, even in Jesus’s day. Entering the gates of Jericho meant stepping foot in a city that had over 8,000 years of history piled up. This massive metropolis, which is also referred to as “the city of palms” (Deut. 34:3), was a haven for the wealthy, eventually serving as the site of Herod’s winter palace.
You might know Jericho from the story of Joshua’s conquest of Canaan. It’s the city whose walls tumble down after seven days of marching around it (Josh. 6:20, 25). And in the aftermath of that victory, Joshua lays down a curse on it and anyone who’d attempt to rebuild its walls (Josh. 6:26–27; cf. 1 Kings 16:34). Surprisingly enough, it’s also the city that receives a striking prophetic blessing after Elisha comes to heal a cursed spring of water in the middle of town (2 Kings 2:19–22). Jericho, the desolate and cursed place, is restored by a word of grace. A similar event happens when the true and better Elisha enters there, bringing healing and grace to a man who was cursed by his neighbors.
It wasn’t a coincidence that brought the Lord by that road that day. He was going to a specific spot where he knew Zacchaeus would be (Luke 19:5). Jesus knows where sinners are, and that’s where he goes. He ventures into the cursed places, the places of death and ruin and decay, to bring life. He did this for Zacchaeus, and he does this for you as well. All the sins you have buried, all those regrets you’ve repressed that haunt you, and every last frustration that still trips you up, he sees and knows. And that’s where grace goes. There is no place of sin that’s off-limits.
5. Grace Comes Looking for You
The point is that Jesus doesn’t just know what you are made of; he knows who you are at the deepest level of who you are. He knows everything about you — all the sins you keep locked away, all the anxieties that keep on keeping you up at night, all the stuff you don’t let anyone else see, all the shame that bogs you down, all the questions you’re afraid to ask, all the failures you can’t seem to escape. Jesus knows all of that, and he still calls you by name and welcomes you to become one of his own. The great comfort of Jericho’s “wee little man” is that “behind the salvation of Zacchaeus is all the saving work of Jesus,” as R. C. H. Lenski put it.
Jesus came to be “numbered with the transgressors” by bearing their sin so that the transgressors might “become the righteousness of God” (Luke 22:37; Isa. 53:12; 2 Cor 5:21). Long before Zacchaeus scrambled up a tree to see Jesus, Jesus was already seeking him out. And the good news is, he has sought you, too.
