Locations & Times

He’s coming.
Jesus is coming.

The streets are filling quickly—crowds pressing in, voices rising with anticipation. I’ve heard the stories, the miracles, the authority He carries. And yet, I never imagined I would be this close. But how will I see Him? Even if I push through the crowd, no one will make space for me. Why would they? I’m not just overlooked—I’m despised. A tax collector. A traitor. A man who built his life on the backs of his own people.

And then I see it—the sycamore tree ahead.

If I climb, I’ll at least catch a glimpse.

That’s all I want, just a glimpse.

So I run ahead. I climb. I position myself above the noise, and I hide among the branches. Safe. Unseen.

Then—I see Him, He’s right there.

As Jesus approaches, surrounded by the crowd yet somehow untouched by its urgency, He walks with intention, as if He knows exactly where He’s going.

And then … He pauses. My breath catches, and my heart is racing.

He looks up at me.

“Zacchaeus,” He says.

My name.

Not my title. Not my reputation. Not my sin.

My name.

“Come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.”

I freeze.

Me?
He wants to come to my house?

I climb down quickly, my heart pounding. Confusion and wonder swirl within me. Why me? Does He know who I am? Does He understand what I’ve done?

As I walk beside Him, the weight of the moment settles in.

The crowd begins to murmur. “He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.” Their words echo the truth I’ve tried to outrun.

Sinner.

Will He change His mind?
Will He turn away when He sees the brokenness of my life?

But He doesn’t.

He keeps walking. With me.

And something begins to shift—not because I’ve earned it, but because I’ve been seen.

He saw me when no one else would.
He called me by name when others defined me by my failures.
He chose to come close when everyone else kept their distance.

And in His presence, I cannot remain the same—because His grace confronts everything I’ve been and invites me into everything I was meant to be.

We arrive at my home, but the walls that once gave me comfort now feel hollow. The wealth I clung to feels heavy. The life I justified no longer holds its ground.

I turn to Him, my heart exposed.

“Look, Lord… here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.” (Luke 19:8)

This is more than an apology. This is my surrender.

And Jesus with a smile on his face—full of compassion, unwavering in truth—responds:

“Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” (Luke 19:9–10)

Salvation.

Not because I climbed high enough.
Not because I fixed everything first.
But because He came looking for me.

He saw me.
He called me.
He restored me.

I was lost…
and now I am found.

- - -

Can you relate to Zacchaeus and his encounter with Jesus?
Have you ever felt like parts of your story were too messy, too broken, or too far gone for Him to step into?

We’ve all wrestled with that tension—wondering if we need to hide, fix ourselves first, or somehow become “better” before coming close to Him.

But here’s the truth: Jesus isn’t intimidated by any part of your story.
He’s not swayed by opinions, labels, or what others may think.
And He’s not waiting for you to clean everything up before He draws near.

He already knows you—fully and personally.
And still, He calls you by name, not by your past or your mistakes.
He steps into the very places you’re most tempted to hide—the places that feel the most unworthy of being seen.

Transformation doesn’t begin with striving.
It begins with surrender—choosing to be seen by Jesus and responding to His invitation.

You don’t have to carry shame.
You don’t have to be defined by who you used to be.
You don’t have to believe the lie that you are unworthy of love or a relationship with Him because of something you’ve done.

Zacchaeus’ story reminds us that Jesus is still doing the same thing. He is still seeking. Still calling. Still stepping into the lives that others may overlook.

His invitation is still the same—personal and present: Walk with Me.

Will you respond?
Will you come down from the place you’ve been hiding? Let Him into those places. Let Him heal what’s been holding you back from fully experiencing life with Him.

This isn’t just Zacchaeus’ story—this is your invitation.

If this encouraged you, check out more articles from our Flatirons Spiritual Formation Team for practical tools, encouragement, and ways to grow in your faith and leadership. Click here.