Most of us know Zacchaeus as the “wee little man” who climbed a tree.
We learned the song in Sunday School. We remember the sycamore tree. We remember that he was short and wanted to see Jesus.
But what if we’ve been paying attention to the wrong movement in the story?
What if the most important thing isn’t that Zacchaeus climbed up?
What if the most important thing is that Jesus stopped?
Luke tells us that Jesus entered Jericho.
That detail matters.
Jericho was no ordinary city. It was one of the oldest cities in the world and the first city conquered when Israel entered the Promised Land under Joshua. For centuries, Jericho stood as a symbol of victory, conquest, and power.
Now, centuries later, another Joshua enters Jericho.
The names Joshua and Jesus both come from the Hebrew name Yeshua.
The first Joshua entered Jericho to conquer a city.
Jesus enters Jericho to win a heart.
And He does so while on His final journey toward Jerusalem.
Luke tells us repeatedly that Jesus has set His face toward the cross. The shadow of Calvary is already stretching across the road. His suffering is coming. His death is coming.
Yet on His way to save the world, Jesus stops for one man.
That alone should get our attention.
Because most of us would have walked right past Zacchaeus.
The crowd certainly would have.
Zacchaeus wasn’t simply a tax collector.
He was the chief tax collector.
He had become wealthy collecting taxes from his own people on behalf of Rome. He was successful. Influential. Comfortable.
And deeply unpopular.
The crowd had already decided who he was.
They had labeled him.
Written him off.
Dismissed him.
Sound familiar?
We still do that today.
We reduce people to categories.
Political labels.
Past mistakes.
Failures.
Addictions.
Rumors.
Reputations.
The crowd thought they knew Zacchaeus.
But Jesus saw something they couldn’t see.
The crowd saw a sinner.
Jesus saw a son.
The crowd saw a problem.
Jesus saw a possibility.
The crowd saw what Zacchaeus had been.
Jesus saw what grace could make him become.
Luke tells us Zacchaeus ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree.
Most of us have heard that part of the story so often that we hardly notice it anymore.
But think about what is happening.
A wealthy public official is climbing a tree like a child.
He is willing to look foolish just to catch a glimpse of Jesus.
Something inside him is hungry.
Something inside him knows there has to be more.
More than money.
More than success.
More than reputation.
More than climbing.
And isn’t that true for us as well?
We spend much of our lives climbing.
Climbing toward success.
Climbing toward approval.
Climbing toward significance.
Climbing toward security.
Sometimes we even turn faith into climbing.
“If I pray enough.”
“If I serve enough.”
“If I become good enough.”
“If I clean up my life enough.”
“Then maybe God will notice me.”
“Then maybe God will love me.”
“Then maybe God will accept me.”
But the Gospel tells a different story.
When Jesus arrives, He doesn’t tell Zacchaeus to climb higher.
He tells him to come down.
“Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.”
That little word must is important.
Luke often uses it to describe God’s divine purposes.
Jesus isn’t looking for lunch.
This isn’t happenstance.
This is mission.
This is why He came.
He must stop.
He must seek.
He must save.
He must go to Zacchaeus.
Why?
Because that is what love does.
Love goes first.
Jesus does not wait for Zacchaeus to change before He visits him.
Jesus visits him first.
Jesus does not wait for repentance.
Grace comes first.
Jesus does not wait for generosity.
Mercy comes first.
Jesus does not wait for transformation.
Love comes first.
And then something beautiful happens.
Zacchaeus changes.
Not because he was shamed.
Not because he was condemned.
Not because he was forced.
But because he was loved.
One of the most beautiful lines in this story comes near the end.
Jesus says:
“Today salvation has come to this house.”
Notice what He does not say.
He doesn’t say Zacchaeus found salvation.
He says salvation came.
Salvation came because Jesus came.
That is the Gospel.
Christianity is not ultimately about our search for God.
It is about God’s search for us.
John Wesley called this prevenient grace, the grace that goes before us.
The grace that seeks us before we seek God.
The grace that pursues us before we know we need pursuing.
The grace that calls our name before we ever call upon His.
Long before Zacchaeus was searching for Jesus, Jesus was searching for Zacchaeus.
Long before we were searching for God, God was already searching for us.
The challenge of discipleship is not simply receiving this grace.
It is learning to reflect it.
The chapter we recently studied in Love Goes First reminds us that some of life’s most beautiful moments happen because someone chooses to make the first move.
Someone reaches out.
Someone offers forgiveness.
Someone extends kindness.
Someone refuses to let bitterness have the last word.
Someone loves first.
That is exactly what Jesus did.
And it is exactly what Jesus calls His followers to do.
The Gospel begins with God making the first move.
Perhaps discipleship means learning to do the same.
God’s love cannot be earned.
You do not have to perform your way into God’s favor.
Grace is a gift.
Receive it.
Come down from self-reliance.
Come down from shame.
Come down from the exhausting effort of trying to save yourself.
Christ is already extending the invitation.
Who in your life needs you to make the first move?
A phone call.
A note.
A conversation.
An apology.
An act of kindness.
The love of Christ always moves toward people.
So should we.
Lord Jesus,
Thank You for seeking us before we ever sought You.
Thank You for calling us by name.
Thank You for stopping beneath our trees and inviting Yourself into our lives.
Help us to stop striving and receive the gift of Your grace.
And teach us to love as You love—by taking the first step, extending the first kindness, and making the first move.
Amen.
Reflection Question:
Who in your life might need you to make the first move this week?
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