Everything [in] between Righteousness & Mercy

Everything [in] between Righteousness & Mercy

Everything [in] between: Part 5
Series based on the Narrative Lectionary & Sanctified Art
April 6, 2025
Luke 19:1-10

Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through town.  A man there named Zacchaeus, a ruler among tax collectors, was rich.  He was trying to see who Jesus was, but, being a short man, he couldn’t because of the crowd.  So he ran ahead and climbed up a sycamore tree so he could see Jesus, who was about to pass that way.  When Jesus came to that spot, he looked up and said, “Zacchaeus, come down at once. I must stay in your home today.”  So Zacchaeus came down at once, happy to welcome Jesus.

Everyone who saw this grumbled, saying, “He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.”

Zacchaeus stopped and said to the Lord, “Look, Lord, I give half of my possessions to the poor. And if I have cheated anyone, I repay them four times as much.”

Jesus said to him, “Today, salvation has come to this household because he too is a son of Abraham. The Human One came to seek and save the lost.”

Luke 19:1-10 (CEB)

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 Reflections by Rev. Jeff Chu

“God has a really bad habit of using people we don’t approve of,” Rachel Held Evans once said. “What makes the gospel offensive is not who it keeps out, but who it lets in.”

I might tweak Evans’s formulation and put it this way: God has a really bad habit of loving people we don’t approve of. Or maybe this: God has a really bad habit of showing mercy to people we don’t approve of.

Or maybe: God has a really bad habit of extending grace to people we don’t approve of.

All are true, as is evident in Jesus’s encounter with Zacchaeus.  In those times, tax collectors were loathed. The phrase “tax collectors and sinners” appears multiple times in Matthew, Mark, and Luke, and in one testy exchange with the chief priests and elders, Jesus tosses a rhetorical grenade into their midst, saying, “The tax collectors and the prostitutes are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you.”

Tax collectors were stooges of the Roman Empire. They betrayed their own people and enriched  themselves in service to the oppressor. And Zacchaeus was no average corrupt bureaucrat. He’d amassed immense wealth, climbing on others’ backs to the rank of chief tax collector. In other words, he was a senior deplorable.

So it especially galled the gathered crowds that, of everyone clamoring for Jesus’s attention that day in Jericho, he would choose to stay with that man. Can you believe it?

The good teacher would want to be in the home of that despicable, unrepentant sinner? I say “unrepentant” because, before Jesus invites himself over, the vertically challenged Zacchaeus has done nothing except climb a tree to get a better view, again setting himself apart from his people. He hasn’t admitted wrongdoing, resigned his position, or confessed his sin. Still, Jesus says, I will abide with you.

It’s striking that Jesus never called Zacchaeus out — no loud shaming, no public humiliation. Rather, this seems like the gentlest calling-in. Faced with Jesus’ tender warmth, Zacchaeus descends from the tree, rejoins the people, and immediately pledges restitution — a two-pronged act of reconciliation with both God and neighbor.

Confirmation of this remarkable turnabout comes in Jesus’s declaration: “Today salvation has come to this house.” Our ears might be tempted to hear an absolution of individual sin. But Jesus says “to this house,” not “to this man,” which hints at something broader. The Greek word σωτηρία (soteria), translated here as “salvation,” also means “deliverance.” Woven into σωτηρία is a suggestion not just of cleansing but also of wholeness. In the communal culture of Jesus’ day, salvation meant the wholeness derived from belonging. By repenting, Zacchaeus had been delivered from broken relationship with his people back into the wholeness of community.

We can’t know how Zacchaeus would have responded if Jesus had instead tried loud condemnation. We do know that what worked was winsome grace, gentle mercy, and a love so attentive — and so offensive — that it healed.

Judge

GOD – Part 7

GOD as Righteous Judge
Sunday, February 24, 2019
John 8:1-11, 12:44-50, 1 Corinthians 4:3-5

Jesus stood up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Is there no one to condemn you?” She said, “No one, sir.” Jesus said, “Neither do I condemn you. Go, and from now on, don’t sin anymore.”

John 8:10-11

We’ve heard a million sermons on how it is not our place to judge. We know what Jesus says about the log in our own eye preventing us from clearly seeing the speck in the eye of a brother or sister (Matthew 7:1-6).

On the other hand, we know that God does judge our actions. This truth is uncomfortable for several reasons.

1. The idea of judging someone has such a negative connotation that we don’t want to think of God as being “judgmental.”

2. We know we are saved by grace, not by works, so why would our works be judged?

3. Jesus says explicitly that he did not come to judge or condemn, but to save (John 3:17, 12:47).

And we’ve only scratched the surface.

In the infamous story of the woman caught in adultery, Jesus demonstrates that he is the only one righteous enough to enact true justice, and in the case of this woman, he declared her “forgiven” (John 8:1-11).

We must be careful not to mistake judgementalism with justice, righteousness and consequences.

God’s judgment is just and true, not judgmental. Where judgmentalism is often subjective, opinionated, condescending and condemning, God’s judgement stands as an objective, factual standard of what is right and good.

Dr. Robert Mulholland described God’s justice like gravity. If we choose to step off the roof of a building, we will fall. We will be hurt. We may even die. This truth does not imply that gravity had anything against us. The laws of nature were not punishing us. Rather, the fall is the natural consequence of our choice to act in a way that is contrary to the laws of nature.

In the same way, when we act against the moral laws rooted in the righteousness and love of God, we are bound to fall. This is why Paul writes that the wages of sin is death (Romans 6:23). God is not out to condemn us, destroy us, or to harm us in any way. God desires that all might come to salvation.

And yet God’s perfect nature stands as a moral standard by which our lives are judged and by which natural consequences result. All sin leads us down a path of death and destruction, whether physical or perhaps emotional, mental, relational or spiritual.

As righteous judge, God forgives our sin, but the consequences of sin are ours to bear.

• What emotions do you feel when you think of God as judge?

• How do you see God as a judge in your life? Where do you feel convicted and where do you feel forgiven?

• In what ways do you try to step into God’s role as a judge over others? How does your judgment of others differ from God’s pure and perfect judgement?

“Judgment will again be founded on righteousness, and all the upright in heart will follow it.” (Psalm 94:15)

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