Luke 19:1–10

When my son was five, he slipped away from me at a local county fair. One moment his hand was in mine; the next, he was gone. I pushed through the crowd, heart hammering, calling his name above the noise. Four long minutes later, I found him near the funnel cake booth, perfectly calm, watching a pig race. He had no idea I’d been searching frantically. But I had come for him, because he was mine, and I was not leaving without him.

Most of us have known a different kind of lostness. Not the geographic kind, but the interior kind, lost in regret, in addiction, in a marriage that has gone cold, in a version of ourselves we no longer recognize. We climb our own sycamore trees just to observe life from a safe distance, not sure we deserve to be part of it.

Zacchaeus knew that feeling well. As Jericho’s chief tax collector, he had chosen profit over people and collaboration with Rome over loyalty to his community. By the time Jesus came through town, Zacchaeus had wealth and contempt in equal measure. Yet something stirred in him, enough to send him scrambling up a tree for a glimpse of this rabbi everyone was talking about.

He wasn’t expecting Jesus to stop, look up, and call him by name: “Zacchaeus! Quick, come down! I must be a guest in your home today” (Luke 19:5, ESV). The crowd was astonished. So was Zacchaeus. Of all the homes in Jericho, Jesus chose his.

This is the heartbeat of Easter. God does not wait on the sidelines, hoping we’ll eventually find our way back. He comes looking. In Eden, He called into the garden for Adam and Eve hiding in shame (Genesis 3:9). Through the centuries, He drew wandering Israel back again and again. And at last, He sent His own Son, not to the self-sufficient, but to seek and save those who are lost (Luke 19:10).

Whatever road brought you to this moment, Jesus has not passed you by. He has stopped at your tree. He knows your name. And He is not leaving without you.

Where in your life have you felt too lost, or too far gone, to be found? What would it look like to welcome Jesus into the parts of your life you’ve kept closed off?

Father, thank You for being a God who seeks. Like Zacchaeus, I sometimes watch You from a distance, unsure I’m worthy of Your attention. Come in today. Every room is Yours.