Two firefighters from the Decatur station recently were in my neighborhood, checking smoke detectors and replacing batteries. After welcoming them, I pointed to the detector on the hall ceiling, and started to get a step ladder. The tall guy smiled and said, “Not necessary,” then reached up and checked the device on his own.
I marveled at his nonchalance in performing a feat that’s impossible for me. You see, I’m one of the short people you see in the grocery store, struggling to reach the yogurts on the top shelf. I’m the one craning my neck at church to peer over the giant blocking my view.
Little wonder I love the biblical story about Zacchaeus, described as a man of “short stature.” One day, he’s mingling in a crowd of onlookers, trying to glimpse the rabbi visiting his town, and he climbs a tree to get a better view.
Zacchaeus was extremely unpopular, since he was a well-off tax collector, who overcharged his neighbors and kept the surplus. Imagine everyone’s surprise when the rabbi — who is Christ — asks him to climb down from the tree, saying, “I must stay at your house today.” The crowd grumbled, because they considered this man a sinner and resented him getting special treatment.
In a dramatic conversion moment, Zacchaeus vows to give half his possessions to the poor and repay the people he’s cheated. Surely it was a thrill to hear the rabbi’s words: “Today salvation has come to this house.”
Christ sought people whom others shunned, such as prostitutes, lepers, adulterers and hypocrites. His willingness to hobnob with society’s outcasts showed his deep compassion, which went beyond warm and fuzzy feelings. Unfortunately, some preachers emphasize God’s mercy and love, without mentioning that he expects something from us.
For example, when Christ saved the life of a woman accused of adultery, he admonished her to stop sinning. He loved her so much, he didn’t want her to harm herself and others through her misdeeds.
The word “conversion” means turning around, and involves a change of heart, which is like falling in love. You suddenly see the beloved with new eyes, and you are drawn to them in a deep, heartfelt way. Years ago, during my own conversion journey, I fell in love with God, when I marveled at the endearing creatures he’d created — from the fuzziest hamster to the heftiest kangaroo.
My love intensified, when I met believers who committed their lives to helping the world’s outcasts. One example was the religious order launched by Mother Teresa, the Missionaries of Charity, who have a home in Atlanta dedicated to serving indigent women with AIDS.
Conversion doesn’t come cheap or easy, nor does it unfold like a frilly Hallmark greeting card. Once we grow closer to God, we want to stop sinning, which may entail letting go of former relationships and familiar habits.
People in our lives may be perplexed, when they witness us changing our ways. It’s possible Zacchaeus became the laughing stock of the village, as he transformed from a despised taxman to a humble disciple.
His story shows how God calls us from our hiding places, so he can dwell in our hearts. Short, tall, skinny, fat, young, old — we all have a place in the kingdom.
Lorraine’s email address is lorrainevmurray@yahoo.com.
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