Seek and Save the Lost

October 30, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Luke 19:1-10[1]

Zacchaeus, the chief tax collector, was known for colluding with Rome and skimming from the top of the collections. He was rich but despised, an outcast among his people, called a sinner by the grumbling crowd. We don’t expect a happy ending for Zacchaeus.

Jesus has criticized the rich several times already in Luke’s Gospel. “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God… But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation” (6:20, 24). Remember the parable, “The land of a rich man produced abundantly” (12:16)? And of course, there’s the one about the rich man and Lazarus (16:19-31). We expect a rebuke of Zacchaeus, and actual rich man standing before Jesus, caught red-handed if you will.

And yet, there is something different about Zacchaeus. He is the twist in the parable, the turning of the tables. We expect a rich and powerful man to push his way to the front of the crowd, or stand whispering in a doorway with the other rich men of Jericho as Jesus passes through. Instead, discarding all decorum, Zacchaeus runs ahead to climb a tree, just to get a good look at Jesus. And not only did he see, he was seen! Jesus called up to him, called him by name, and honored him by staying at his house.

A more pompous or self-righteous person might be apprehensive of what Jesus might say to him, a powerful rich man. Instead, “he hurried down and was happy to welcome him” (v. 6). The crowd was shocked by the social outcast being honored by Jesus. But Zacchaeus was joyful, overcome by love, and declares his lavish commitment to generosity. He will give away half his possessions to the poor, and repay his fraud with four times as much. Not with grudging acquiescence, but with a smile on his face and light in his heart.

“Salvation has come to this house,” announces Jesus (v. 9). Zacchaeus was who he was, but he is a child of Abraham, just like the rest of the crowd. He belongs to the family of God. He may have been lost, but now he has been found, and that is worth celebrating. After all, that is the mission, “to seek out and to save the lost” (v. 10). In seeking out Zacchaeus, Jesus shows the extravagant love of God who seeks out the lost, searching for those who have wandered away, because they still belong to the family of God.

We often focus on finding God, finding Jesus. We may think of ourselves as lost, seeking for the one light, for salvation. We stumble around in the dark, not noticing that our eyes are closed. Perhaps we’ve wandered away looking for quicker, easier, more seductive ways of life. What we have forgotten is that Jesus is looking for us. Jesus is seeking for us, walking miles and miles to find us, again and again. And it may only take opening our eyes or climbing a tree for us to be seen, to be found, to be called by name.

You may recall how, in the parable of two who went to the Temple to pray, the Pharisee bragged of his righteousness: “I fast twice a week; I give a tenth of all my income” (18:12). He already thought of himself as righteous, justified, saved. Here we see a different response. Zacchaeus, who has not been so righteous before, has changed his ways. “I will give to the poor… I will pay back four times as much” (v. 8). In this moment, standing before the Lord, in the midst of the crowd grumbling about this sinner, Zacchaeus has been transformed. Without any sense of arrogance, and without being asked, he pledges his fortune in restitution for his crimes, in repentance for his sins. He is changed, and his mended heart will be seen in his new commitment to kindness, justice, and generosity.

We might think of repentance as the work required to earn God’s love and salvation. Here we see a better definition. Repentance is an act of gratitude for the grace extended by God. It can be an act of remorse, but it can also be an act motivated by joy. I messed up. I want to do better; I want to be better. And thanks be to God, I can be. The thing I find to be important is to remember that God doesn’t need us to pay back God for what we’ve done wrong. It is the people we’ve harmed who need our restitution. It is the poor we’ve ignored and those we have cheated who need our acts of repentance. It is our community that must see the change in us. God already loves us, has sought us out save us. Now we must commit ourselves to acts of justice and love among God’s people in thanksgiving and in joy.

Come, Lord Jesus, come and fill our hearts with your life. Let us be your voice of hope, of peace, and of love.  Amen.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

Witnesses to the Light

December 13, 2020

St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11; John 1:6-8,19-28

I have this cup. We all have one kind of like it. It is the cup that holds joy inside us. One of my favorite musicians, David Wilcox, wrote a song about the cup that holds love,[1] but I want to bend that metaphor just a little. The cup gets filled up with joy, you see, whenever we experience joy. Sometimes just a drop or two gets added to my cup, like when my son gives me a hug. Sometimes it feels like an open tap is pouring joy into my cup, like when I hear a beautiful song.

The thing is, there’s a break in the cup. There are little holes in my cup of joy that let the joy leak out. This hole was made when I heard Errol Hamilton had passed away. This one is from a young person who is having a hard time feeling like she belongs. I have lots of little ones lately from things I hear on the news.

There are some big holes in my cup, too. In my role as a minister, I sometimes hear the stories of tragedy and heartbreak in people’s lives, and I wouldn’t be human if it didn’t affect me. I have heartbreak stories of my own, like the death of my sister-in-law from cancer.

Some of these holes will heal. Some of these holes can be patched up with time and effort. Prayer and repentance can close some of the holes. But new ones will take their place. There will always be holes in my cup. And I’m sorry to say, there will always be holes in yours as well.

So, I try to recognize and be grateful for each trickle of joy. I try to be thankful for every person who has shown me some light, some joy in the world. And I try to show some light, some joy to those around me as well. We are, all of us, witnesses to the light.

John the Baptizer was a witness to the light. He made it clear to the priests and Levites from Jerusalem that he was not the light. He was not the Messiah. But John was here to cry out in the wilderness, to prepare a way, and to show us where we could find the light.

I am thankful for the fountains of joy that have filled my cup lately. I am thankful for seeing my family and celebrating the birthdays of my parents, even if it was only over Zoom. I am thankful that Bonnie is expected to make a full recovery from COVID. It gives me joy to see that my wife’s cousin, Caleb, has graduated from college. It gives me joy to talk on the phone with an old friend.

Grady Nutt, from the old TV show Hee Haw, had a saying, “Laughter is the hand of God on the shoulder of a troubled world.” Laughter is a gift of God, a gift that we need today, in this Advent season, when the news is filled with division and sickness, when all is not calm and all is not bright.

Joy and laughter are a gift we need today.  But laughter does more than fill up our cup of joy. Laughter bring us to life. There is a Proverb in the bible about this gift of laughter and our need for it: “A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a downcast spirit dries up the bones” (Proverbs 17. 22).

We all need the joy that brings us to life, like a desert blooms after the rainfall, because without joy, we’re just empty cups. And when we have been drained of all joy, that can be dangerous. We might try to fill the empty space with something that feels like joy, but isn’t. We might try to fill the void with overuse of alcohol or drugs or food. We might overindulge in other unhealthy behaviors which make holes in the cup as fast as they fill it.

We need genuine joy, the joy that comes as a gift from God, which flows freely from the beauty of nature, the love of family and friends, and the sharing of our stories of joy with one another.

The lectionary scriptures for this third Sunday of Advent speak of the power of that kind of joy:

The prophet Isaiah said:
“I will greatly rejoice in the Lord; my whole being shall exult in my God” (Isaiah 61:10).

Psalm 126 says:
“Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy” (Psalm 126:2).

And the Apostle Paul wrote to the Thessalonians:
“Rejoice always” (1 Thessalonians 5:16).

The message of the prophet Isaiah is so relevant for us because it acknowledges the pain and loss and the devastation the people of Israel had endured; and at the same time, it points to something beyond the present condition. Isaiah shares God’s promise that there is light and love and joy yet to be found.

Creation will be renewed. 
The ruined cities will be rebuilt. 
The exiles will come home. 
The oppressed will hear the good news. 
Those who mourn will be comforted.

When we witness to the light of Christ that shines into our lives, we build up the ancient ruins and repair the ruined cities. When we witness to the joy that we see in the world, when we share joy with one another, we help fill up that cup that holds joy inside us. And the more we practice witnessing to the light, the more it becomes a part of who we are and how we live our lives.

Another song by David Wilcox illustrates this way of living:

I went to see an old friend, who was soon to pass away. 
He said “This life has been so good to me, now I’ve still got one more day.” 
He said that as he watched the morning sun, and then he smiled my way; 
Because he said that every morning, he’d lived his life that way.[2]

There is the kind of experience that can fill us up with joy long after it has passed. Maybe you have some moments like that in your memory. Here is one of my joyful memories.

The summer after I graduated high school I went on a trip to Oregon with some other young people from Colorado. One day we went on a tour of the waterfalls that flow into the Columbia River. We made a stop at one place where the waterfall was back from the road through a narrow ravine. The only way to get there was to walk up the creek. People were taking off their shoes, but the rocks were slippery and hard to walk on. I remember looking at my new shoes and thinking, “I will never be here again.” I walked up the creek in my shoes to swim under that beautiful waterfall. It remains a golden moment of joy in my memory.

When Jesus was born in Bethlehem, in that region there were shepherds. They had a golden moment of joy in their memory:

“Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord’” (Luke 2:10).

Have you seen the light of joy, peace, hope, and love? Be witnesses to the Light.  Amen.

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[1] David Wilcox, “Break in the Cup” on Big Horizon © 1994.

[2] David Wilcox, “Sunshine on the Land” on Nightshift Watchman © 1987.