University Christian Church

I told my spiritual director just a few months ago that I had this revelation about my life.

In December, I’m turning 40, and the strange thing is - it feels like I’m just now becoming confident in my skin, what I believe deep down, who I want to be. For too long in my life, I have either let other people define me or made choices based on fear of what others may think about me. But no more. Basically, it’s taken nearly 40 years to really begin to understand who I am.

This morning, I’m inviting you to ask that question of yourself - “Who am I?”

Our new sermon series is based on the 5 Hard Questions from Gregory C. Ellison II’s book, Fearless Dialogues - these questions are part of a dialogue that aims to bring people from all walks of life together and recognize their shared humanity. He writes this about the first question:

“Who am I?” Seems easy enough, but when you ask this question, others quickly follow. Who am I not? Who am I when the shades are drawn and the lights are off? Have I worn a mask so long that I cannot differentiate who I am from who “they” say I should be? If I know who I am, then what do I call myself? What do I call myself? I pose this inquiry to all first-year students in my classes, because the world can call us all kinds of names.

Shameful. Sinner. Traitor. Cheater. Thief. Lazy. Liar. Unbeliever. Poor. Racist. Angry. Failure. Hysterical. Nobody.

Some people in our world, like author Elizabeth Gilbert in her memoir, Eat, Pray, Love, have the kind of money in their bank account to travel the seven seas to experience food, spirituality, and romance - all in an expensive effort to discover who they are - but for most of us, who are tied down with jobs, family, commitments, and modest financial resources, we don’t necessarily have that option. We don’t get to take vacation days to discern our deepest identity or get in touch with the core of our being. We have to make it up as we go - and it’s messy work.

So, I get it. Some of us give up fighting for our identity - to discover who we really are and who God made us to be - and just give in to the names that the world gives us.

• Maybe I am a cheat.
• Maybe I am not a good person.
• Maybe I deserve to be poor.
• Maybe I should get used to be disrespected and mistreated.
• Maybe I don’t know what I am doing.
• Maybe my life doesn’t matter.
• Maybe I am a sinner, and God doesn’t love me.

Zacchaeus in the Gospel of Luke knew what it meant to be called names too.

Our scripture says he was rich, and he was a tax collector. That’s one heck of an introduction. In the politically charged environment, of Jesus’ time, that meant a lot of things. That meant, that when Zacchaeus’ back was turned (and sometimes to his face), he was called a lot of stuff by his neighbors:

• A cheat
• A traitor to his people
• Greedy
• Conniving
• Backstabber
• Dishonest
• Unfaithful
• Unclean

In Jesus’ day, the Roman Empire collected taxes in collaboration with good Jews like Zacchaeus, and anything extra that Zacchaeus was able to collect over what was due for his district, Zacchaeus got to take home. Tax collectors were notoriously corrupt - adding credit card processing fees and surcharges and shipping and handling and compound interest to every dime they collected. Our scripture doesn’t tell us all of these details, so we are invited to imagine them. Did Zacchaeus skim extra off the top? Was he particularly ruthless and ambitious? Did he deserve some of the names he was called?

Add to that, Zach was short. Vertically challenged. If you’ve ever seen a small dog go up and intimidate a big dog, Zacchaeus might have been like that. He hadn’t worked out his issues with his therapist. He was overcompensating for something. It could turn into bullying behavior. Mean. Tired of being overlooked (literally) and picked on. Zach used his position and wealth to place himself on even footing with those who whispered behind his back.

Zachaeus let those names define who he was, and he turned around and did the same to his neighbors.

But even if we think of Zacchaeus as the villain of the story, there was something deeper in Zaccheus. A hunger. More than meets the eye. Zacchaeus had heard about Jesus - stories of healing, teaching, miracles, and salvation - and he wanted to see if this rabbi was the real deal. He gets wind that Jesus is coming his way, and Zaccheus wants a peek.

Verse 3 of our scripture says Zacchaeus was trying to “see” Jesus. In Greek, the root word can also be translated to “experience or attend to”. Zacchaeus, whether he understood it or not, was ready for an encounter with the Living Christ.

Picture it though - here is Zacchaeus, that traitor to his people, that thief, that man who is part of the oppression, trying to cut his way in front of the crowd to see this holy man. Why would a holy man like Jesus have anything to do with a crook and a scoundrel like Zach? The crowds lining the road threw some elbows and shoved that little man back to where he couldn’t see a thing. Serves him right. Who does he think he is?

Zacchaeus was not going to give up. He was going to see this so-called messiah, no matter what, and so he clambered up this sycamore tree to get a glimpse himself. For at least today, to see something holy and pure.

Can you imagine it? A filthy rich tax collector climbing a tree, dangling off a limb, to see a rabbi?

Here comes Jesus, taking his time, meandering along the route there in Jericho, people reaching out to grab an arm or a brush of his robe, crying out for mercy, for hope, for healing. The crowds were pressing in on him.

But Jesus stops. He “looked up to” Zacchaeus. In Greek, that verb shares a root with the verb that means to “recover sight”. It’s not that Jesus can’t see - it’s that Jesus can suddenly see Zach. Recognizes him. This peculiar human being, perched on top of a sycamore tree, staring at him with wide, curious eyes.

Jesus sees him.

All of him.

The color of his skin, the look on his face, his curly hair, his excitement, his energy, the unspoken questions, the beating heart, his stature, his weariness, his broken heart, his need for love and compassion.

Jesus does the unthinkable, “Hey, Zacchaeus, we’re having dinner at your place, right?”

Scripture doesn’t say if Jesus and Zach had a prior relationship. All we see in this passage is that Jesus speaks his name. Calls out to him by the name given by his father and mother, two good faithful Jews. Jesus doesn’t pick any of those slanders tossed out by his neighbors. Jesus doesn’t identify him by his occupation or his mistakes. Jesus doesn’t seek to embarrass him or ridicule.

Somehow, Jesus knows his name. Calls him by name. Affirms the beauty of his name.

Funny things happen when people see you. Truly see you.

When people see your value beyond your bank account, your education level, your resume, your skillset.

When they look past your race, ethnicity, immigration status, gender, or sexuality.

When you are seen fully as a beloved child of God.

This encounter with Jesus changes Zach. His life matters. God sees him. God doesn’t just knows he exists - God loves that he exists.

His life will not be defined by others and the stereotypes or rumors they place around him.

His life becomes defined by his God createdness.

Zach, that day with Jesus, surely had to answer the question - “Who am I?”

Am I what others say about me?

Am I what I think about myself?

Or am I something else altogether?

Zaccheus experienced a life transformation in that moment. Even though he was the same person with the same name, everything was different. Zach couldn’t go back to being the old guy, the mean one, the bully, the skimmer. He turned half of his wealth over to the poor, and in addition, he committed to repaying back 4 times anyone he had wronged. His life got turned upside down.

Salvation. Forgiveness. Freedom. Justice.

One of my favorite praise songs:

I will never be the same again

I can never return, I've closed the door

I will walk the path, I'll run the race

And I will never be the same again

This morning, I ask you to ponder this:

Do you need Jesus to see you?

Do you need to see Jesus?

Are you here in worship today because you are desperate to climb that sycamore tree to see the Living Christ, the one who walks on water, the one who promises to offer ever flowing water from a living well, the one who can raise the dead and make the blind see?

Are you here just because you hope there is a God, a God who might look and notice you, your hurt, your pain, your grief, your unanswered questions?

To be seen by God, to see God - these are accurate ways to talk about our spiritual life. Something happens, like Zach, when the Spirit descends on us and we encounter our Creator in flesh. We become saved. We are asked to turn our life around. We say, “My Lord, my Savior, my God.”

And suddenly, in a profound way, we begin to answer that question - “who am I?” - in a different way. Yes, we remain with our occupations and stories and backgrounds. We check boxes on those forms that say our race, ethnicity, gender, how much we make, and how old we are. But in Christ, there is something there in and through and beyond all those things.

We are God’s beloved.

We are worthy of God’s gracious love.

Once we know that, our lives can never be the same.

When Dr. Gregory Ellison conducts one of his Fearless Dialogues experiences, he stands outside the room where they are prepared to meet, and he says to everyone who makes there way to the event, “It is good to finally see you.” He recognizes the power of being seen - how if we are to be known we must first be seen. (Turn to your neighbor, look them in the eye, and say - “It’s good to finally see you.”)

What might be different about our neighborhood if we could see each other? What would be better about our polarizing political divide if we could see each other? What would be healing about our work to address the needs of those experiencing homelessness and poverty if we could see one another? How would we treat our neighbors better if we could but see them?

See who we really are.

May our fearless dialogue with ourselves and God begin today, and may the Living Christ see us, know us, and remind us who we really are.