Zacchaeus: When the Lost Gets on Your Nerves
Jesus didn't come to reward those who were already close, but to seek out the one nobody wanted at the table.
In a video devotional, Jonathan Avila raises an uncomfortable question: what do you do when the lost gets on your nerves? His starting point is Zacchaeus, and mine is too.
The murmuring that is also mine
Luke 19 opens with a collective complaint: "And when they saw it, they all grumbled, 'He has gone in to be the guest of a man who is a sinner.'" (Luke 19:7, ESV). I read that verse and I recognize myself in the crowd.
Think about the person who pops into your head when you read the word "lost." It could be the one who humiliated you at work, the one who blocked you on social media, or the one who sat at your own table and hurt you. It's not a stranger; they have a name, and that's why the question stings.
«Grace seeks first and doesn't reward merits.»
Zacchaeus fits that category. He wasn't the lost one you'd want to recover, and the people made that clear when Jesus said he would go to his house.
Avila gets it right by not softening the scene. The discomfort wasn't in Zacchaeus; it was in those watching. And that's me too.
Grace isn't handed out by merit
Zacchaeus didn't clean himself up before climbing down from the tree. He climbed up because he wanted to see, and the initiative came from the other side. Jesus closes the episode with a phrase that dismantles my calculations: "For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost." (Luke 19:10, ESV).
There's what bothers me. Grace seeks first and doesn't reward merits. If it depended on deserving, I'd be off the list too. The same measure I apply to the one I can't stand is the one applied to me, and I don't like the result.
I hold grudges because they make me feel right. It's comfortable to have someone to blame. But when I ask God to pass by that person, I'm asking Him to stop being who He is. That looks more like a list of exceptions with my name at the end than zeal for holiness.
What I'd nuance from the video is this: the question isn't answered with a nice feeling. There's real damage, there are relationships that are still dangerous, and there are healthy boundaries that the Bible doesn't condemn. Forgiving doesn't mean trusting again immediately.
The name you don't want to say out loud
Here's a concrete step for this week. Write the name. The one of that person who gets on your nerves and who, according to Scripture, is also the object of the Father's purpose. Write it down and pray for them, even if you don't feel like it.
Don't ask God to change them so you can be at peace. Ask Him to reach them, like He reached you when you didn't deserve it. Pray for their home, their work, for what they're carrying in silence.
Maybe the first time you won't feel anything. That's okay. Resentment doesn't go away with one prayer; it goes away with many. But every time you name that person before God, you stop administering grace as if it were yours.
What name came to mind while you were reading? Write it down and take it with you to prayer. Then tell me what changed first: the other person, or you.
