"Then Jesus entered and walked through Jericho. There was a man there, his name Zacchaeus, the head tax man and quite rich. He wanted desperately to see Jesus, but the crowd was in his way – he was a short man and couldn't see over the crowd. So he ran on ahead and climbed up in a sycamore tree so he could see Jesus when he came by.

When Jesus got to the tree, he looked up and said, "Zacchaeus, hurry down. Today is my day to be a guest in your home." Zacchaeus scrambled out of the tree, hardly believing his good luck, delighted to take Jesus home with him. Everyone who saw the incident was indignant and grumped, "What business does he have getting cosy with this crook?"

Zacchaeus just stood there, a little stunned. He stammered apologetically, "Master, I give away half my income to the poor – and if I'm caught cheating, I pay four times the damages."

Jesus said, "Today is salvation day in this home! Here he is: Zacchaeus, son of Abraham! For the Son of Man came to find and restore the lost."

The Gospel according to St Luke, Chapter 19, Verses 1-10

THE MESSAGE

Zacchaeus looked at the riches he had just gained. Of course, he'd have to give some of the money to the Romans, but there was still plenty left; it would enlarge his hoard of gold greatly.

He slowly counted out each coin Caesar demanded, caressing each one gently before reluctantly dropping it into the bag. Then he took the gold that he counted as his and added it to the piles already there in the store-room. It was a miserable life, being a tax-collector – you were universally hated – but at least it paid well. That was the only advantage.

Yes, there were many, many disadvantages. You asked for slightly more money than the Romans asked for from each house, and that added up to his gold. But people hated you for that. They counted Zacchaeus as a traitor because he was a Jew, ingratiating himself with the Romans while making the life of his own people misery.

God wouldn't like what he was doing. Zacchaeus reckoned that what he was doing might come under his commandment of 'don't steal'. He didn't mean to steal – he just knew of no other way to swell his wealth. He had a sort of obsession about his money, even though he hardly used any of it. To work was an abominable idea. He couldn't work – he didn't know how to. And the effort put into fishing, for instance – unbelievable! No, he'd stick to the job that he knew well.

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A rumour was coming around about a man called Jesus. Some said that he was a miracle-worker who claimed to be the son of God. Some actually believed it. But all said that he was wonderful. They thought that perhaps he would destroy the rule of the Romans and free them. He could do it, they were sure – he was a powerful orator.

Zacchaeus didn't believe that the man was the Son of God. He was strong, he was tough, he was completely independent – and he wouldn't let anybody take him in. The Son of God could not possibly be anything as base as a humble carpenter, so why should he believe some story somebody made up to get attention?

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The gossip started saying that Jesus was coming to the town where Zacchaeus lived. Perhaps this man really was the Son of God, Zacchaeus speculated. What is this guy like?

Zacchaeus felt extremely heavy of heart when he went to bed – yet, for the first time in years, he had started to hope. He did not know why, but he knew that he needed to be unburdened of something. Perhaps…if, against all odds, this man really was the Messiah…?

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The day when Jesus was supposed to come to his town had come. Zacchaeus decided to see him. Perhaps he could help...there he was again, musing about the man helping him. He didn't need help. Did he?

He started to walk to stop himself from thinking.

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The crowd was huge. There was no way that he could see Jesus over the heads of all the people taller than himself.

What was he going to do? An inner feeling told him that it was imperative for him to see this man.

It was then that he saw the sycamore tree.

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He grabbed the lowest branch and attempted to swing up. He couldn't. Despite his shortness, he was heavier than many normal people, since he ate well and often. He began to wish he hadn't.

After many attempts, he finally managed to swing himself onto the lowest branch. Now, if only he could get to that overhanging branch over there...

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There he was, dressed in a simple peasant's robe. Yet Zacchaeus, in his costly clothing, thought that this man looked far more majestic than many who wore the same garb as Zacchaeus. Even – even more kingly than Caesar himself. He would never say a thought like that aloud, though.

Jesus would never notice him, he felt sure. A kind of despair washed over him at this thought, checked only by the faint hope that Jesus might do so nevertheless.

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Jesus was so close that Zacchaeus could almost reach out and touch him, if he was but a little lower. He held his breath until Jesus had passed.

But he didn't pass. He stopped just under Zacchaeus' tree and looked up. Incredulously, Zacchaeus stared back at Jesus into those deep-seeing eyes. Jesus could see right through him, he was sure...he felt slightly frightened, but strangely calm.

"Come down from that tree, Zaccheus, for I must dine in your house at noon."

Zacchaeus had felt almost mesmerized by the eyes, and when Jesus spoke he started, and didn't quite take in what had been said. The people around Jesus started muttering, saying that Jesus was going to stay at the house of a sinner. Then he realized what he had said.

Yet hadn't Jesus said his name? He'd never met the man before and yet Jesus knew him. Oh yes, he knew him. He knew that in that moment when they had looked at each other Jesus had seen not only his appearance, but his sins weighing him down.

This man was the Son of God, Zacchaeus knew that. And he had forgiven Zacchaeus. God was merciful...

He felt so light, so light...and wonderfully joyful at receiving this guest at his house.

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So Jesus came with him and entered his house. Even after the meal, Zacchaeus still felt slightly giddy.

But something was still wrong.

And in the next moment, he knew what it was. He knew that he would never cheat again, not now, but still there lay his hoard of money in the store-room, and still the people he had cheated thought ill of him. On impulse, he cried out for everyone to hear, but especially Jesus:

"Lord, I have cheated people over a long period of time. Cheated them horribly. As recompense, I will now pay back every single man that I have cheated four times the amount that I owe him! And half of all my possessions left over I will give to the poor!"

He felt completely free now. His sins had been washed away by Jesus' forgiveness, like a strong stream of cold, clean water. He could start anew.

And Jesus rejoiced at Zacchaeus' decision.

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"I have to leave now."

The words wounded Zacchaeus. Jesus was the Son of God and Zacchaeus had been honoured by his short visit, he knew – but it was so hard to let go of him now. Jesus was his life, his anchorage, his all.

He could not live without him. Not now.

Jesus' low voice came floating over to him, so low that none could hear but Zacchaeus. "I will be with you in my spirit, Zacchaeus, and remember that I love you."

Love. He had never been loved before. His father had hated him, and his mother did not care for him. Nobody had liked him as a boy, or an adolescent, and they had hated him when he became a tax collector.

And he was loved. The pure, sweet knowledge of this flooded through his body, and he did not feel so the pain so acutely when Jesus stepped out of his door for, he knew, the last time.

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He was poor now, but he could no longer be a tax collector. Maybe fishing wasn't so bad after all. At least it would be an honest living...

A/N: I first wrote this in May 2003, when I was thirteen. Today (29 May 2006) I have edited it, but only a very little. I've used some poetic license, obviously, so there are some bits which differ from the events as written in Scripture, but I hope you'll agree with me that this does not make much difference to the essence of the story.

(I want to know something. Why do asterisks and square brackets not register when you upload stories? It's annoying…does anyone know?)

Many, many thanks to Indigo Ziona, Captain Blackbird, Hils and Inspector Brown for your lovely reviews. They totally made my day when you wrote them, I really appreciate your support guys. (Hint, hint…I really, really, really like getting reviews, good or bad!) Thanks also to Window Girl, who, while she didn't review, liked my story enough to put it in her favourites. I was overwhelmed to know that you thought it worthy! Thank you!

And finally thanks to everyone who takes time to read this little piece. It'd be nice to get a review from you, too…--looks hopefully at reader--…please?