Reverend Marco Ste-Marie

Luke 19:1–10

There are words we love in church: grace, love, welcome, justice, mercy. We can say them beautifully. We can print them in bulletins. We can sing them in hymns. But Luke, again and again, asks a sharper question: When do those words become visible in our lives?

Because too often, we are not aware of the hurt we may cause. Too often, we copy what we have seen others do, without asking ourselves hard questions. We follow habits, traditions, “the way things are done,” and we never pause to ask: Is what I am doing fair, just, and helpful? Who pays the cost for my comfort? Who becomes smaller so I can feel bigger? Who gets pushed aside while I keep moving forward?

Zacchaeus is a story about walking the talk. It is also a story about power, accountability, and change. Zacchaeus was not simply a curious man in a tree. He was a chief tax collector. He was rich. He was embedded in a system that rewarded extraction. He lived in a world that did not challenge his ways. He was in a situation of power with little accountability. And many of us know what that feels like, even if our titles are different.

It is easy to drift into power without noticing. It is easy to benefit from a system and call it “normal.” It is easy to hurt others and never feel the impact.

Luke gives us three movements, and each one presses on our assumptions.

Movement 1: Welcome

The first shock in the story is not Zacchaeus climbing. The first shock is Jesus looking up.

Jesus sees him. Not as a label. Not as a villain. Not as a problem to be managed. Jesus sees a person. And Jesus does something that will offend the crowd: “Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today.”

Jesus invites himself. That matters. Zacchaeus does not earn this. He does not clean up first. He does not make a speech first. Jesus comes near first.

This is Luke’s theme again and again: God’s mercy moves toward the outsider. The one blocked by the crowd. The one everyone has already decided is unworthy. And Luke is honest about the crowd, because the crowd is not “those people out there.” The crowd is often us. “All who saw it began to grumble,” Luke says. Grumble is a gentle word. What they mean is: “We don’t like who you are welcoming. We don’t approve of your compassion. You’re breaking our rules.”

Here is a challenging question for the church: When Jesus welcomes someone, do we celebrate? Or do we grumble? Do we decide who deserves kindness? Do we keep a mental list of “safe” people and “unsafe” people? Do we welcome people who look like us, vote like us, speak like us, love like us, live like us? And then call that welcome?

The welcome of Jesus is not polite. It is brave. It crosses boundaries. It risks public criticism. And it is aimed at transformation, not comfort.

Movement 2: Repair

The second movement is where “walking the talk” gets real. Zacchaeus responds, and his response is not vague. It is not “I’m sorry if anyone was offended.” It is not a spiritual statement with no consequences. He speaks about money. He speaks about restitution. He speaks about repair.

“Half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor,” he says. “And if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.”

Notice what happens here: welcome leads to repair. Grace leads to accountability. Mercy leads to change. This is not punishment. This is restoration. This is Zacchaeus turning from extraction toward repair.

And we need to hear how radical that is. Because many people do not change, even after being held accountable. Many people get caught and only become more defensive. Many people feel exposed and respond with anger. Many people blame “cancel culture” or “political correctness” instead of asking: What harm have I done? What needs to be repaired?

Zacchaeus does not do that. He does not hide behind excuses. He does not say, “That’s just how the system works.” He does not say, “Everyone does it.” He does not say, “It wasn’t personal.” He moves toward repair.

Progressive justice is not only about having the right opinions. It is about making amends. It is about returning what was taken. It is about changing the conditions that harmed people in the first place.

Zacchaeus shows us that repentance is not mainly an emotion. Repentance is a change of direction that shows up in public life.

So let’s bring it close. Where might we need repair?

If our words have dismissed someone, repair might be naming it and apologizing without defending ourselves. If our workplace power has silenced people, repair might mean changing how decisions are made. If we have benefited from unfairness—through pay gaps, housing advantages, racism, ableism, sexism—repair might include sharing resources, advocating for policy change, and stepping back so others can step forward. If our church has excluded people—through theology, language, leadership patterns, or cultural norms—repair means more than “you are welcome now.” Repair means changing structures, not just slogans.

And yes, repair costs. That is part of the point.

Movement 3: Public change

The third movement is Jesus’ declaration: “Today salvation has come to this house… For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost.”

Salvation comes “today,” in a house, at a table, in a town where people grumble, and in a life that begins to change. Luke refuses to treat salvation as a private spiritual coupon. Salvation is public. Salvation touches economics. Salvation changes relationships. Salvation restores belonging: “He too is a son of Abraham.” Jesus gives Zacchaeus back his dignity, right in front of the crowd.

And now the church is challenged: Will we be a community that makes public room for change?

Will we be a people who practice accountability with hope, not humiliation? Will we tell the truth about harm without throwing people away? Will we make space for confession, restitution, and new life?

Because the crowd loves a simple story: “He’s a sinner, end of story.” Jesus tells a harder story: “He is family, and change is possible.” That does not deny harm. It refuses hopelessness.

So here is the invitation of this text: We in the church need to be like Zacchaeus. We need to look for Jesus with our whole being. We need to be willing to come down from our safe places—our comfort, our excuses, our defensiveness. We need to repent, not as theatre, but as repair. We need to ask the questions we avoid: Is what I am doing fair, just, and helpful? Who is harmed by this? Who is missing from the table? What would restitution look like here?

“Walking the talk” is not about moral perfection. It is about honest living. It is about brave repair. It is about public change.

May we be a church that does not only talk about justice, but practices it. May we be a church where welcome leads to repair, and repair leads to public change. And may salvation come “today” to this house—our house—through the choices we make, the amends we offer, and the love we are willing to live.