This past weekend was All Saints’ Day— when we lift up that great cloud of witnesses, ordinary souls made extraordinary by God’s grace and love. In Sunday’s Gospel, we meet Zacchaeus. Not a saint—not yet—but a man who goes out on a limb, literally, to glimpse Jesus, and comes down forever changed (Luke 19:1-10). All Saints’ Day shows the finish line of grace. Zacchaeus? He’s the starting block—the moment grace finds us, calls us, turns us toward sainthood.
Zaccheaus is a chief tax collector. Rich. Hated. The face of injustice, profiting off his own, breaking laws that bind a people together. Jericho despises him. But watch this: curiosity stirs. Determination rises. A grown man—undignified— runs ahead, climbs a sycamore, just to see. He knows Jesus welcomes sinners, yet he’s heard his warnings, too: “Easier for a camel to pass through a needle’s eye than for a rich man to enter into heaven.” He plans to hide in the leaves. But Jesus? Jesus sees.
“Zacchaeus—hurry down. I must stay at your house today.”
Not a lecture. Not shame. An honor. A declaration. Astonished, delighted, Zacchaeus scrambles down, throws open his door, and everything pivots. Selfishness? Gone. Greed? Replaced by gratitude—lavish, joyful, fourfold restitution and half his wealth to the poor. Mercy touches him, and mercy overflows.
That’s the rhythm of grace: it finds, it calls, it transforms, it multiplies. Jesus seeks the lost—every last one of us. No one’s too far, too hidden, too tangled in pride or fear. And no one is exempt. “I must stay with you today” isn’t dinner talk. It’s habitation. Jesus wants to fill your heart, your mind, your spirit— today, tomorrow, every day.
Feel the hurry: Zacchaeus runs. Jesus commands, “Hurry down.” Zacchaeus hurries. Transformation? Immediate. Eagerness meets eagerness—grace given, grace received, joy unleashed.
But we? We hesitate. We calculate. We stall. Jesus says, “Today,” and we say, “Let me think.” Friends, grace waits for no committee. It calls for speed—speed to receive, speed to repent, speed to reflect the love that found us.
We are all Zacchaeus— short in stature, long in sin, desperate to be seen. And when Jesus stops beneath our tree, how do we respond? May we climb down with joy and open wide the door! May we give back fourfold, forgive seven times seventy, love without ledger.
The opportunities? They’re everywhere. Pay the debt—and add interest. Share the surplus. Say I’m sorry. Reach the estranged. Speak kindness where critique once lived. Every act is a refrain: “Mercy touched me— I’m passing it on.”
No credentials needed. No training required. Just a heart that says, “Yes, Lord—today.”
So, when Jesus calls, may we hurry like the saints before us. Hurry to forgive. Hurry to restore. Hurry to share. Because God’s mercy is abundant, available, and meant for all. We’re all invited to the feast. The table is set. All that’s left? Come down. Say yes. Let grace begin.
I warmly invite you to join us at Trinity Episcopal Church each Sunday at 10 a.m. You will find a welcoming congregation, uplifting liturgy, and the good news of God’s love shared in word and sacrament. All are welcome — come be part of a community that seeks to stand tall together in faith and love.
