The changed life of Zaccheus
I am an observer. I typically don’t like to be the center of attention. Rather, I’d prefer to be somewhere along the outskirts of the situation, watching. When my daughter was younger, I took her to West Ridge’s Christmas Eve service and she wanted to sit in the front row. Come on, really? I’d say no and sit somewhere in the middle, thinking I’d made a compromise. But then, people would come sit in front of us. You know, the tallest people in the church. Right in front of us. I’d get “the look” from my daughter. She liked front row so she could see everything, up close.
I also like to think that I’m a considerate person to a fault. It’s always “you first” when I approach a door with a stranger…or when I’m with friends. “You first” when walking on the sidewalk and we need to make room for someone coming the opposite way.
I think about Zaccheus in Luke 19:1-10, who knew Jesus was coming and, because he couldn’t see, he climbed up a tree to get a better look and Jesus called him by name. I think about what I would do if that were me and worry that I’d hide in the back: I’ll just sit here in the back and watch what happens – watch for a glimpse of Jesus. Watch the crowd and their reaction. Would I miss that opportunity for Jesus to look directly at me and say, “You, come forward.” Or, would I hide in the shadows when He called my name?
At what point do I need to be at, to leave all inhibitions behind and go to Jesus? My logical self wants to yell, “COME ON, it’s JESUS! Go to him! Who cares what others think or see?” But I don’t know that I would do it. This is something I’m working on. If I can finally let myself go to the grocery store with no makeup on, why would I care if others saw me doing everything I can to find Jesus?
I am on this path to find Him. It’s slow-going, but it’s going. In the end, it’s between Him and me. Not anybody else.