a dose of grace
For youth group this year, we’re working our way through Max Lucado’s book Jesus: The God Who Knows Your Name (which, if you’re looking for a faith-based read, is well-worth your time). I’m constantly amazed at the way Lucado makes things simultaneously profound and simple - rich truths about God that are understandable for regular people like us!
In one of the chapters, he writes about the story of Zacchaeus. Let’s dive into this story for a moment.
Zacchaeus was an Israelite, but he worked as a tax-collector, which made him a social outcast. His job was to collect taxes from his fellow Jews on behalf of the Roman Empire. A typical day in his life would involve setting up his tax collector’s booth and stopping hapless countrymen to extract a toll - warranted or not. Since the regulations for tax collectors were pretty vague, so as long as Rome got its share, Zacchaeus was allowed to collect whatever he pleased and pocket the difference.
The Jews hated him because they saw him as a traitor - he was, after all, working directly with the Roman Empire to take their money. Zacchaeus was also profiting from their struggle by over-taxing them and keeping the excess for himself. Talk about slimy!
To top it off, Zacchaeus’ name meant “pure” or “innocent”. He was certainly neither. I’m sure the irony wasn’t lost on him. I wonder if his parents sighed over the failure that was their son. I wonder how often he was filled with self-loathing for the place he found himself in. I wonder how he felt knowing that most people regarded him with disgust and disdain.
Most people, except Jesus.
Jesus was travelling through Zacchaeus’ town, which caused a huge stir. Zacchaeus may have heard stories of the traveling carpenter, who performed miracles and shared powerful sermons wherever he went. At any rate, he wanted to see Jesus, so he followed the crowds thronging to see Jesus. Our boy Zach was short, so he scrambled up a tree to get a better view of the passing preacher.
Little did he know that while he was only trying to get a glimpse of Jesus, Jesus was trying to get after Zacchaeus’ heart.
Jesus noticed Zacchaeus, up in his tree. He noticed the short man that most people avoided eye contact with in the street. He looked him square in the eyes and said, “Hey Zach, I wanna hang at your place today! Let’s go!” (loose translation).
Zacchaeus was floored. Jesus had noticed him. Him. And Jesus wanted to come to his house, too? It seemed too good to be true. But it was true. He climbed down from his tree, breathless, wiped his dusty hands on his robe, and beckoned. "Come with me, Jesus!”
Jesus visited Zacchaeus at his house that day. Lucado writes, “grace walked in the front door, and selfishness scampered out the back. It changed his [Zacchaeus’] heart. Is grace changing yours?”
As I prayed over this passage and asked God to show me what to share with the youth, I had a little epiphany moment.
I realized that I am good at recognizing myself as a sinner.
I’m good at noticing my shortcomings and flaws.
I’m good at being down on myself and thinking how good God is to love someone as worthless and wretched as me.
And yes, it’s true that I am a sinner and that I can’t save myself from my evil nature. It’s true that I can’t do good apart from God. It’s true that sin is absolutely abominable and that God hates it. It’s an affront to Him because He is good and sin is everything but good. But I’m so good at viewing myself as a worthless sinner that I forget that God loves me immeasurably.
Maybe you’ve been here, too.
Maybe you forget that God doesn’t see you as worthless. He thought you were worth dying for. He assumed the cost of loving you, knowing it would cost Him His life.
He assumed the cost of loving you, knowing it would cost Him His life.
He doesn’t see you as the sin you commit. He doesn’t see you as a good-for-nothing failure who messes up over and over again. He doesn’t see you as the product of the mistakes you make. When Jesus looked Zacchaeus squarely in the eyes, he didn’t see a lying, thieving tax-collector, but a dear son. He knew that Zach definitely had a sordid history, but that history didn’t define him. It didn’t exclude him from grace.
Your history doesn’t exclude you from grace, either.
When Jesus looks at you, He doesn’t see you as a list of the bad things you’ve done. He doesn’t hover around you at every moment waiting to catch you doing something wrong to guilt-trip you. Instead, He comes into our worlds, catches our downcast eyes and says, “hey friend, I wanna hang at your place today. Let’s go!”
There’s no shaming in His presence. There’s no berating or lecturing. There’s simply an open invitation: “Come as you are.”
You don’t need to get so wrapped up in how pathetic and weak you are that you lose sight of the Saviour. We need a Saviour. God already knows that, it’s why He sent Jesus!
Come as you are.
You are never disqualified from God’s love. His grace has no qualifiers or limitations. It is rich and free, and there’s more than enough for you. He invites you to come as you are, with all the messy, broken, and downright awful pieces of ourselves. He doesn’t want you to try cleaning yourself up before you come to Him - it’s His job to do the changing, slowly, piece-by-piece.
Come as you are, and let His grace change your heart.
♪ - listen to Grace Alone by Kings Kaleidoscope.
