“Zacchaeus was a wee little man, and a wee little man was he. He climbed up in a sycamore tree, for the Lord he wanted to see.”

If you are like me, you probably sang that song as a kid in Sunday School more times than you care to remember. But it wasn’t until I was an adult that I realized that Zacchaeus’ physical stature wasn’t the only thing about him that was small. Given the fact that he was a tax collector, who collaborated with the occupying Romans and made a living by cheating his own people, Zacchaeus would have been considered a “wee little man”—even if he had stood six-foot-seven!

That all changed, though, when Jesus happened to pass through Jericho. Word had it that this man could perform miracles—some even claimed that he was the Messiah—and thus, the crowds lined the streets, eager to see him, touch him, and cheer him on. Among the more curious was Zacchaeus, who put aside the dignity of his public office and shimmied up a tree like a school kid.

He did this, of course, because he wanted to catch a glimpse of Jesus … but it also allowed Jesus to take a nice, long look at him. “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.”

The crowd was obviously surprised, and murmured its disapproval. However, I think it’s safe to say that no one was more surprised by this announcement than Zacchaeus himself. “He knows my name! He is calling for me! Why would a Messiah want to have anything to do with the likes of me?”

Zacchaeus hurried down to greet his guest—a changed man by the time his feet hit the ground. He promptly promised to give fifty percent of his possessions to the poor, and compensate fourfold anyone he had treated unfairly. No doubt, it was a tall order for such a “wee little man” … but then again, sometimes God’s grace has an amazing way of giving us a growth spurt!

So what are we to make of this strange story that only the Gospel of Luke reports? Well, one interpretation is that it exemplifies the very reason that Jesus came in the first place—namely, to seek out and save the lost!

But I think another way to read it is as a cautionary tale for any of us who might prefer to remain at a distance—catching a glimpse of Jesus from afar, but not really wishing to get personally involved. Let’s face it, being a spectator is a lot easier than being a participant. But remaining safety on the sidelines may not be what Jesus has in mind.

He might just look up at you and say, “Hurry down here.”

“Who, me?”

“Yes, you!”

“He knows my name,” you think to yourself. Well, of course he does … you belong to him!