Rev. David Inglis November 4, 2007

Luke 19:1-10

(As Zacchaeus): Have you ever felt like you didn’t measure up, like you’re out of place, like you don’t belong? I grew up feeling like that. Nobody ever called me by my real name–Zacchaeus. To my parents, I was “the runt.” To my relatives, I was “Pip-squeak.” To other kids, I was “Stubby.” I was the one that was easy to laugh at and pick on, because I could never run as fast or jump as high as the others.

I tried not to care. I pulled myself in and closed the door against anyone who could look down on me. The aching loneliness was too painful to feel, so I closed the door against my own heart.

“Some day, they’ll be sorry,” I told myself. “Some day, somehow, I’ll show them I am somebody.”

That day came when a Roman official offered me a job as a tax collector. He told me how much I’d have to collect for each neighborhood. Whatever I could extract beyond that was of no concern to the Romans. I could carry a weapon. And I would have backup. Roman soldiers were all too happy to help enforce the tax, because they knew that’s where their pay came from.

When my neighbors saw what I was up to, they yelled “Traitor!” They spat at me. They treated me like a scum bag. I just didn’t let it bother me. I was already used to being called names. I knew there wasn’t anything they could do about it when I came knocking on their door, looking over their possessions. I got very good at getting what I wanted. I was so good that the Romans put me in charge of other tax collectors, and made me chief tax collector for my district.

Well, I guess I’ve become so famous you already know the rest of my story. I was up in a tree waiting for Jesus, not just because I couldn’t see over anybody’s head, but also so people wouldn’t notice me. I had heard that Jesus was the holiest, most powerful teacher and healer and prophet anyone had ever heard of. But he touched unclean lepers, and talked to prostitutes, and he sat down and broke bread with tax collectors. I just had to see this man for myself.

Then I saw him coming. His smile was so broad and easy as he turned to each person along the path. Some people he touched. Some he stopped and said a few words to. I felt something strange and warm seeping around the closed door of my heart. I found myself leaning forward, opening up a little to this rare feeling from the safety of my perch.

My heart was racing as he approached my tree. My heart ached for more of this feeling. But I was afraid to want it, too. If he saw me, he would know the kind of person I was. I tried to make myself invisible. But his eyes looked up and found mine squinting at him warily. “Zacchaeus!” he said. “Come on down. I’d like to stay at your house today!”

I almost fell out of the tree! Jesus, stay at my house? Nobody had ever wanted to come to my house, let alone an honored guest like him. He was treating me like a long-lost friend. And how long I had been lost–lost in my hatred of my own people. Lost in my hatred of my own self. Lost in my inner hell of lonely worthlessness.

But suddenly I felt found! I knew he had sized me up, and that I came up short in more ways than my height. But somehow what mattered to him wasn’t as much who I had become as who I could be. And I started to feel a new Zacchaeus stirring inside me. A Zacchaeus who wasn’t worthless, but was somehow worth Jesus’ love. A Zacchaeus who wasn’t rejected, but who was embraced. A Zacchaeus who didn’t have to get his kicks by taking from others, but a Zacchaeus who could feel satisfaction in giving to others. It didn’t matter to me that people were grumbling that Jesus was going to the house of such a sinner. I wasn’t going to be that Zacchaeus anymore.

Jesus came to my door and looked inside. I knew some things in my life needed rearranging. “Look, Lord,” I said. “I will give half of my possessions to the poor. And if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay them back four times as much.” I never could have imagined that giving things away would feel so much better then taking them.

Jesus beamed at me, and said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek out and save the lost.” (Zacchaeus headdress is removed.)

_____________________________

Here at HUCC, we have lots of Zacchaeuses among us. I’m one myself. Many of you heard a few weeks ago how I got lost as a young man. In fact, every time I forget down deep that God loves me as I am, I get lost again in trying to prove myself or justify myself. But when I turn back to Christ, and when I come here to worship the God who created and loves us all, I get found again.

One of the most gratifying thing about my ministry is watching our church open its doors and welcome in other Zacchaeuses, who feel something missing in their lives and take the risk of coming through our doors, wondering if they might find a place that feels like home. Is this a place where they will be accepted as they are–with their questions and doubts, with their wounds and their worries, with their vulnerabilities and their inadequacies? Is this a place that will help them grow into that whole, loving, giving person that God put it in them to become? Is this a place that will help them feel like a part of Christ’s own body, working with others to make the world better for everyone?

The story about Zacchaeus reminds us that when we reach out to warmly greet people we don’t know, and get to know them at coffee hour, and invite newcomers to upcoming events and groups, and welcome new people into Bookworms or your guild or your board or committee, we’re not just being friendly. We are continuing Jesus’ work of opening the doors to people who have felt lost and who need a spiritual home.

We have been doing this so well that it is changing our church in a number of ways. Many of you remember when you sat next to, not someone you don’t know, but a big open space in your pew. Some of you choir members remember when you all fit on one side of the choir, and the anthem you sang that morning depended on who showed up and what parts could be covered. Eric Falla remembers when there were so few people to fill our positions, he felt compelled to serve as moderator and a member of two boards at the same time. I remember when our budget deficit was so big, the Trustees were a little upset with me for getting what they thought was a stapler. They did calm down when it turned they had misread the receipt and it was just staples. They supposed that was okay. And I remember when I’d sometimes have to invite adults to come up and hear the Children’s Time because there weren’t any kids to hear it.

If you remember those days before, say, 1995, would you please stand? As we look around us, we see our dear old friends that we’ve known a long time. There’s a special connection we feel towards each other. And though we were kind of small and kind of poor, we faithfully supported this church, we cared for each other, we cared for the world, and we encouraged each other’s spiritual growth and growth in ministry. We didn’t realize that through it all, God was preparing us to be a spiritual home that would offer love, faith and hope in Christ’s name and in Christ’s spirit to so many people. (Be seated.)

Now if you started coming any time after 1995, will you please stand? Look at all of the new life, energy, perspectives, and gifts, not to mention children, our church would be lacking if you hadn’t listened to God’s tug, taken a risk, and ventured through these doors. Because of you, HUCC is not just a church with a faithful past. It’s also a church with a vibrant present and a hope-filled future. And so many of you have not only been welcomed, but you’ve caught the spirit of this church and become warmly welcoming of others. We are so honored and grateful that you have become part of this growing family of faith. (Be seated.)

Whenever there is change, there is a loss of some kind. Those of you who stood first have lost the feeling that you know everybody when you come to church. And now it feels different to have two pastors instead of just one. The church’s spirit is as strong as ever. But our growth has made it feel different in some ways.

I’ve been thinking lately about the early Christians’ image of the wagon wheel. The hub in the center represents God, who is the Center and the Source of all things. We’re like the spokes on the wheel. The closer we come towards the hub, the closer we draw to each other. And the closer we draw towards each other, the closer we come to God. God’s love knows no limits. This wheel can accommodate any number of spokes. It’s not the number of spokes that matters. What matters is whether we’re drawing closer to the hub and closer to those around us.

So Pastor Martha and I, with the help of our Casting Your Nets team, have begun to think about creating more ways for us to share our stories and our lives with each other, to trust each other with our growing edges and our questions, to encourage and empower each other to unwrap our gifts, and to support each other at our places of need. We’re starting to think of lots of ways to do this, and we’re getting excited. If we do this together, all the people we don’t know yet will come to enrich our sense of community, and we will be blessed by knowing even more parts of the body of Christ. We will find that it’s not how long we’ve known each other that really matters. It’s how deeply we know, trust and respect each other that connects us.

Next Sunday is Stewardship Sunday. I can imagine Jesus looking at us and smiling, as he sees all the Zacchaeuses of all sizes and shapes and backgrounds that he has sent us who have found a place that feels like home. I know that Jesus hopes that we will continue to be a church that opens its doors to everyone, that offers each one a warm embrace, that tells each person, “Welcome home. Welcome into this family of faith. We would love you to come and help us be the body of Christ as we minister to each other and the world.”

To keep our doors open wide and our ministries growing takes each person’s commitment of time, talent and treasure–not just as our leftovers but as a priority. Being part of a church isn’t an activity we casually fit into our schedule and our budget, like entertainment or a pastime. Being part of a church connects us with our highest purpose–helping each other become all that God created us to be and doing the work of Christ for each other and for God’s world. We are so blessed to have each other as brothers and sisters in this family of faith. May God help each of us feel deeply at home here in a boundless love that keeps the door open to each Zacchaeus God sends us, and that keeps God’s door open to the Zacchaeus in us.