Based on Luke 19:1-10

The name’s Zach. I know I’m not much to look at. Never have been. I’m short. Vertically challenged. Lacking in stature. I’ve met 10-year-olds taller than me.

I got picked on a lot as a kid. I got tough, and I fought back. Maybe that’s why I became a revenue agent for Rome. I wanted people to look up to me. I wanted to be a big man. And I got what I wanted—almost.

I know people still whispered about me. They called me a traitor behind my back, but no one said it to my face. They treated me with deference. Me, little Zach. When I interviewed for the job, I knew I’d get it. The Roman official looked bored, but he asked sharp questions. He must have seen that I would do whatever it took to collect the money owed to Caesar. My countrymen just saw me as a collaborator with a hated enemy. I didn’t care. I got rich.

Most of it was my commission on what I collected, but sometimes I assessed taxes that weren’t really owed, especially when I knew the taxpayer had done me wrong. I was smart, though. I didn’t cheat anyone with powerful connections, and I started diversifying my investments as soon as I accumulated enough to feel secure.

But I was lonely. It’s not easy being despised by everyone. For my Roman employers had as much contempt for me as my own flesh and blood. I was resigned to living the rest of my life alone and unloved.

Rumors began to spread about a young itinerant preacher. They said that crowds followed him to hear his teaching. He spoke with confidence in his own authority and claimed God was his Father. When he quoted the Law or Prophets, he often gave it a twist or said blasphemous things like claiming that he was the fulfillment of some prophecies. If it had only been words, I doubt anyone would have paid much attention, but the rumors also credited him with miracles. He touched sick people and they got well. Lame people walked. Lepers were cleansed. Demon-possessed people were restored to sanity. He even welcomed women and permitted them to hear his teaching.

One day word came that he would be passing through Jericho on his way to Jerusalem. The whole city was in an uproar. Of course, I was curious. Who wouldn’t be? I decided to try and see him, but the street was packed. Though I shoved and prodded, I could not get through the crowds waiting to see him. I could tell from the crescendo of sound that he was coming near. I spotted a sycamore nearby and was up it before I could even think about it. I could see him getting closer. He looked ordinary enough. I didn’t see anything special about him except maybe the way he smiled. I was seized by a sudden, irrational desire to see that smile turned on me. At the same time a terrible fear gripped me that he would notice me sitting in the tree, too short to see him any other way.

As he came even with the tree, he suddenly looked straight at me and said, “Zacchaeus, come on down! I’m staying at your house.” I was thrilled. I had imagined inviting him, but I knew he would decline, and there he was inviting himself. I climbed down and welcomed him to my home. Naturally I got dirty looks from people in the crowd and overheard people criticizing the preacher for going to eat with me. I didn’t care.

My life changed that day. If you ask me what he said, I can’t really tell. One thing I’ll never forget. We were reclining at the table when he looked at me with his frank, open expression and said, “Do you mind if I call you Shorty?” There was laughter in his eyes, but his voice was serious, and I suddenly felt that my stature was a gift. He was inviting me to accept it. He talked a lot about love and forgiveness, but it wasn’t so much what he said. It was how he treated me. I don’t know how else to put it, but with him I felt tall.