Make me
a sycamore tree. 
by Pastor Scott Polley

One of my favorite accounts of Jesus' ministry is where he interacted with Zacheus.  I can strongly relate to Zacheus. because I see a lot of myself in him.  I am not referring to his physical stature, because I am almost 6’2” and, as the children’s song describes him, he was a wee little man.  Nor am I referring to his profession as a tax collector and his journey to acquiring that position.

What I see in Zacheus is an individual who was empty, alone and disconnected in the midst of his important and busy life.  He was a man who needed to find his identity or at least re-discover it.  A person who seemed, among some groups, to have it altogether.  But yet he wondered where the road he was on would eventually lead. While he did not know where he was heading, he was well aware of where he was.  He knew he was standing in the consequences as an outcast from the “fold” because of compromises he had made.  Those who should have reached out to him and offered assistance in restoring him back into the “fold” were the ones who abandoned him.

All around us there are lonely and outcast people.  Most of the time this status is a result of their doing which drives them away from their “home” alliances.  However, the opportunity or invitation to return has seldom been extended to them from the home community.  These “Zacheuses” are just as removed from restoration as the Zacheus of the Bible was.  They proceed through the motions of life and duty, yet they are empty, lonely and lost — deeply desiring to be re-connected, but shoved behind the crowd, prevented from escaping the dungeon of loneliness and abandonment.

Who around us, around me, have we overlooked that look toward us for redemptive acceptance presented through us by the grace of God?  Who are those who feels as if they are of little stature, because we have forced them behind the crowds to where they cannot see?  Who is the Zacheus around you?  Around me?

We have to read between the lines and intelligently speculate to fill in some blanks about Zacheus’ search for acceptance both from among home alliances and from Jesus.  We have to assume that he had heard of the mighty stories (and at this time they were only stories to him) of what had taken place in people’s lives as they made contact with Jesus.  Not only had he heard of these accounts, he may have personally witnessed such events as they took place in the midst of his personal search for resolve of his disconnection. What about the mighty impact that was made in their lives as Jesus and the others connected?  Rather it was a physical correction, an emotional reformation or a spiritual transformation. And Zacheus could not deny that something beyond the explainable natural took place.

The emptiness that resulted in the unanswered questions that haunted him drove Zacheus into a consuming quest to find answers.  The opportunity was within his grasp to personally reach out for the possible solution.  He heard that Jesus was passing down his pathway of life.  Jesus was in town.  But how, given his stature and status, could he even hope to make contact, let alone be impacted by Jesus?  He knew, or at least presumed to know, that he was not going to receive any real assistance from those in authority, even in the littlest amount, to open the path to meet Jesus.  Those who moved within his circle mocked his longing to return to his homeland.  How would he proceed from there?  What were, in true reality, his chances to make contact with Jesus, let alone to be impacted by or connected with Him?  Would this day conclude just as so many of the past have?  No connection, no transformation of his status, no returning to home.   But he was not content to live one more day without at least making a personal contact with this Teacher, this Jesus, this One who had been proclaimed as the Messiah.  But how?  How could this take place?

As these questions haunted his quest, he threw his hands up in despair.  If only I could see over the obstacles.  If only I could get beyond the press of people.  If only … if only.  And then, as if he was kicked by the camel belonging to the merchant who stood next to him, it hit him.  There it was … the answer.  The way above and over the fence of people in front of him.  There was the sycamore tree.  It was not a pretty tree as trees go, but it was a beautiful ladder.  It was his pathway to raise him above so he could make contact with Jesus as he passed his way.  So up he went, and there he sat.   Just high enough to get him above the crowd, but low enough to make contact with Jesus.

Then it happened … Jesus stopped just in front of him.  Before Zacheus could draw enough breath to speak, Jesus looked up at him and called his name.  Jesus called out to him —  yes him:  Zacheus, the tax collector, the compromiser, the alien from the homeland — that he wanted to have lunch with him at his house.  He never felt larger and taller in his life.  Just the thought that Jesus had stopped and spoke his name brought a security that had evaded him for many years.  Yes, his name — not just a generic salutation — but his personal name.  And it was done in compassion, not in the mockery to which he had grown accustomed.

There it is … Zacheus saw Jesus because of the sycamore tree.  Not only did he see Jesus, but he made contact, opening the door to be impacted by Jesus and then to be connected to the Kingdom of God anew and afresh.  Just as the old legend tells of the dogwood tree used to make the Cross to lift Jesus up before the world, so the sycamore was used to lift up Zacheus to see Jesus.  Oh, may I be a sycamore tree.  Lord, please make me to be a Sycamore tree.

Remember, there are Zacheuses all around us.  Remember, Jesus is in town and he is passing this way.  Are you available to be an old ugly Sycamore tree?  It was not the cedars of Lebanon or the mighty oaks that did the lifting.  It was a twisted limb, shaggy barked sycamore tree.

Please Lord, make me a sycamore tree! 
                      Please make my church a sycamore tree!

 

Pastor Scott Polley with wife,
Debbie Robb Polley