Someone Who Believed
in Me
I grew up with a soccer ball never too far from my feet. My dad made sure of that. He had taught at a high school in Nigeria for a couple of years, and while he was there he had fallen in love with soccer. My older brother took me under his wing when I was old enough to play. In our backyard, he taught me proper technique and all sorts of tricks. Entire afternoons would be lost as we played against one another. I was an attacker, he was a defender. Like iron sharpening iron, we made each other better. Because we never fell into the same age bracket, we never played on the same team. But he would show up at my games, and I would show up at his. His support meant a lot to me.
About seven years ago, I began to play in an adult recreational league. It was exhilarating to be playing soccer again, but it took a while to recover everything I had learned—in part because I was playing on a team of strangers, and it takes time to build relationships and earn the trust of your teammates. A couple years later, my brother, who had been living in Texas, returned to Virginia. (As some of you know, he’s pastor at Goochland Baptist Church.) I invited him to join my soccer team. For the first time in our lives, we would be playing on the same team. I remember vividly the first game we played together. I played better than I had in years. Usually, if I were lucky, I might score a single goal in a game. In that game, I scored four. Everything I tried came off. You know how sports players will sometimes point to the heavens after they accomplish a great feat, as if to say, that wasn’t all me? Well, that’s how I felt.
But I don’t believe that God above had preordained that I would have an amazing game that night. I believe the reason for my performance was much closer to the ground. That night, I was playing the game with someone who believed in me. My brother was shouting encouragement at every turn, urging me to shoot when I had a shot, celebrating when I scored a goal. The paradox is that what I did that night, was very much within my capabilities. My body knew all the right motions. Yet, it had never put them together like that before. It needed to be unlocked, unleashed. I think that is what my brother did, just by being there, just by believing in me.
I’m willing to bet that, if you consider your own life, you will find similar moments, when another person’s belief in you called forth from you something you did not know you had. Maybe it was a spouse’s support that inspired you in a difficult time, or a child’s love and trust that made you more responsible than you knew yourself to be.
“What Is Impossible
for Mortals”
Nobody believed in Zacchaeus. We learn this in the middle of today’s scripture, when Luke tells us that everyone in the crowd grumbled about him that he was “a sinner” (19:7). Maybe this reputation is because he is a tax collector who takes more than his share. Or maybe he simply fails to live according to the moral standards of his Jewish community. In either case, his reputation precedes him. I remember as a child thinking that Jesus spoke Zacchaeus’ name as a demonstration of his divine knowledge. Now I think he spoke Zacchaeus’ name simply because he had already heard all the grumbling about Zacchaeus, this sinner of Jericho. Now I think that if Jesus’ address to Zacchaeus demonstrates any sort of divine power, it is not the power of knowing everything, but rather the power of love. Jesus believes in Zacchaeus.
Luke’s introduction of Zacchaeus—“he was a chief tax collector and was rich” (Luke 19:2)—draws a comparison between him and a rich man whom Jesus has only moments ago encountered. In the previous chapter, a rich man asks Jesus how he might receive the fullness of life. Jesus invites him to sell his possessions and follow him, but the rich man cannot let go of his riches. He walks away from Jesus sad, and Jesus laments, “How hard it is for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!” When the disciples ask, “Then who can be saved?” Jesus answers, “What is impossible for mortals is possible for God” (18:18-26).
In other words, there are some things we cannot do by our own will. It takes something outside of us to unlock us. For me on the soccer field, that outside something was my brother’s belief in me. If you’re familiar with fairy tales, you might recall that very often what breaks the evil enchantment is not a person’s own magical power or intelligence. It is someone else’s kiss. Love breaks the shackles of the spell and liberates the enslaved person.
That is precisely what we see in Zacchaeus. Luke tells us that when Jesus invites himself over to Zacchaeus’ home, Zacchaeus is “happy”—or “joyful” is probably a better translation (19:6). Perhaps for the first time in years, Zacchaeus feels that someone else loves him and believes in him. Here is someone who does not judge him, someone who does not look at him with recrimination. Here is someone who, before anything else, desires to spend time with him. He scrambles quickly down the tree, and soon he does what the rich man was unable to do. He gives away half his possessions and pays back four times all his fraudulent profits (which may well account for the remaining half of his possessions). Jesus then pronounces, “Today salvation has come to this house” (19:9).
What’s fascinating here is the order of events. Usually, in our world, repentance comes first, and forgiveness comes second. Forgiveness must be earned. “Tell me you’re sorry. Prove it to me.” But this course of action is often counter-productive. Shame does not unlock a person. It does not liberate us. If anything, it isolates a person and closes them off to the world. Shame shuts us down. Jesus shows us another way. He makes no demands on Zacchaeus other than that they eat together.[1] Zacchaeus’ joy suddenly unleashes a whole new person. This is what repentance means anyway—a change of mind. What this story suggests is that forgiveness comes before repentance, that forgiveness can help to change a person’s mind. Just as my brother unlocked certain abilities within me on the soccer field, just as a kiss awakens the sleeping beauty or transforms the toad prince, Jesus’ acceptance of Zacchaeus changes his mind. Trusting in his own goodness, he lives not out of fear and greed but out of love for others.
Jesus at Our Tables
Growing up in a church where we shared the Lord’s supper only once a month and in great solemnity, I understood the Lord’s table to be an almost magical, otherworldly fixture. The Lord’s table was the sacred property of the church; it had scripture printed on it and fine silver lying on its surface. It required silence and a recollection of my sin and shame.
But today’s scripture turns the tables on my old understanding. Jesus invites himself to Zacchaeus’ table. He turns our tables into his own. The Lord’s table is not a heavenly table descended to earth, but an earthly table blessed with God’s love. It is not a table that requires our penance, but a table that declares we are accepted just as we are. The rest of the world might look upon such a table and say it’s folly. If you just accept people as they are, they’ll never change or grow! But Zacchaeus’ story suggests otherwise.
Remember the rich man who could not let go of his money and follow Jesus? If ever there was a picture of a model disciple, it would appear to be him. He says he has followed the commandments since his youth. And as if that weren’t enough, he wants to know what else to do. He’s the student every teacher dreams of. But when it comes down to it, he cannot learn. He cannot change and grow as Zacchaeus does. Why? Let me suggest an unconventional—even ridiculous—interpretation. It’s because he’s not happy. I’m not talking about superficial happiness, but about the deep joy that Zacchaeus feels when he learns that Jesus believes in him and accepts him as he is. The rich man is uneasy and unhappy; he does not believe that God accepts him as he is. For this reason, he feels compelled to secure his life by power and wealth. He cannot let go of it.
The good news of Zacchaeus is that we do not need to secure God’s love. It is already ours. Christ accepts us as we are and makes our broken tables his own. And his acceptance does what we could never do on our own. It is like the kiss that breaks the enchantment. It is like when someone’s belief in us unlocks unbelievable capabilities within ourselves. When we receive Christ’s acceptance, it makes us deeply happy; it changes our mind about who we are…and may transform us in ways we could never foresee.
Prayer
You make our tables
Your own table.
Help us to know
The joy Zacchaeus felt.
Help us to feel your kiss on our lives,
Your steadfast belief in us.
…
Awaken us to a fuller life.
May salvation come to our houses today:
Amen.
[1]
Scholars point out that the language in this text bears strong connotations of
table hospitality.
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