I met Zacchaeus on a Sunday morning.
Not for the first time, of course. I knew his story well. It was one of my favorites growing up.
But this time, as my co-teacher was animatedly narrating his story at the pre-school catechism class, I saw something new.
As I imagined the streets and the sycamore tree, I saw Zacchaeus for the first time as Jesus did. (At least I tried to.)
Waiting to be seen
No one likes me.
Who cares? I’ll just do what I want.
That could very well have been Zacchaeus’ note-to-self every day.
Until the day Jesus met him.
And set aside everything He was doing to eat with him.
The townspeople rolled their eyes. Jesus was going to dine with this sinner! How could He? Why wasn’t Jesus taking this man to task for all his lies and thieving ways?
It’s a good question to ask: Why wasn’t Jesus yelling at Zaccheaus? Why wasn’t He angry?
A question that stared me in the face that Sunday morning. And that’s when I looked at Zacchaeus with fresh eyes.
While the people saw his behavior, Jesus looked at his heart. He saw a man waiting to be seen and understood. A man waiting for an invitation to connect.
As I looked at Zacchaeus, I thought about my children.
And as I looked at the townspeople, I saw myself. Each time I responded to my child’s behavior with annoyance, judgement, and frustration, I was doing what they did.
What if I looked at my children, especially my teens, with Jesus’ gaze? What if, instead of doling out lectures or hours of silent treatment, I called them by name and set aside time to be with them, just as Jesus did with Zacchaeus?
Wouldn’t that be a wonderful way to connect with their hearts? To truly reflect Jesus’ love for them?
The Zacchaeus blueprint
So I decided to try something new.
To be more like my loving Father and less like the always-needing-to-correct mother I tend to be.
I decided to follow the “Zacchaeus blueprint.”
Stop.
When Jesus reached the tree Zacchaeus was sitting on, He stopped.
So now, I try to stop whatever I’m doing at least once each day and to sit down beside my teen. Or casually hang out at the door, if I want to look cool. ????
Look up.
Jesus looked up. He left everyone and everything aside and focused all his attention on the little man.
Yeah, this one is not that easy. Especially when I’d actually prefer to multitask and talk. But it’s critical. Looking my child in the eye shows that he (or she) has got all my attention. That nothing is more important at that moment.
Offer your presence.
Jesus got straight to the point. He wanted to spend time with Zacchaeus. Offer His presence. Not pressure.
So that’s what I’m trying to do, too. To spend time listening, chatting, laughing. Getting into their world. Enjoying their stories.
Of course, there’s the regular “Have you done (*insert chore name here*)?” But when that comes after filling up their tanks with love and fun and laughs, I seem to be calmer when I ask the question and they’re definitely calmer when they reply.
Have faith
Zacchaeus’ encounter with Jesus changed him.
The gospels don’t tell us what Jesus and Zacchaeus talked about at his house, but the story ends with Zacchaeus’ transformation. And with Jesus’ declaration that “salvation has come to this house.”
I, too, have strayed. I, too, have fallen short. And yet, my earthly parents and my heavenly Father have loved me, forgiven me, never given up on me. How could I do anything less?
So no matter what mistakes I see my child make, faith and hope prevail. I know that my Father will lead my child as He led me. In His time.
Until then, I try to offer my presence, not pressure. To reach out and look up and love even when I want to be angry. To connect, then correct.
Zacchaeus and me
I’m so glad I met Zacchaeus that day. Because truth be told, he reminded me more of myself than of my children.
He reminded me of the many times my Savior has chosen to rescue me, forgive me, wait patiently for me, and call out gently to me, instead of choosing to punish me for my many mistakes.
Zacchaeus reminded me to love my children like Jesus does.
To see them as He does.
To remember that they are not the ones I need to fight. They are the ones I need to fight for.
In faith,
