Sermons

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Climbing Trees
August 20, 2000 
Sermon series on Trees in the Bible
Pastor Dan Baumgartner
Luke 19:1-10

It’s good to be back with you after a couple of weeks of vacation.  We did everything from cruise the San Juans to ride horses in Montana.  Still walking a little funny from that.

Today we continue with our August sermon theme of  “Trees in the Bible.”

The first week Lynne spoke from Psalm 1 on the tree planted by streams of living water that prospered and bore fruit, and its similarity to the person who delights in God.

Last week, Jeff looked at the story of Jesus and the withered fig tree, and what it had to say about the authority of Jesus, and how that impacts the church.   Today, there is another tree…this one from the gospel of Luke.  It’s the sycamore-fig tree, a tree common in the Middle East, and distinguishable by its low, large spreading branches.

Luke 19:1-10

I am not, by nature, a person who seeks risk.  I don’t think I’m alone in this.  I like stability, knowing where things are going…I like the feeling of having at least some control of a situation.  Therefore, I gravitate towards hiking, not rock-climbing, and running, not downhill skiing.  So why, I had to ask myself, why was it I found myself with a large group of people on the banks of the Gallatin River in Montana last week, listening to a guide from a whitewater rafting company?  Although the river was quite low and tame, there were still rapids and lots of visible rocks.  The guide giving instructions to the group had obviously just come from a meeting with the company lawyer. 

“Though there is very little chance of any of this happening, I’m still obligated to tell you about it…”  She proceeded to elaborate on what to do if you fell out of the boat, how the guide in your boat had a rope to throw you, why if you were thrown from the boat you should avoid large log jams they called “strainers,” which let water through but nothing else…and then she handed out helmets for everyone to wear. 

I was in a boat with one guide, a Dartmouth student, my two boys and one of their friends.  Without me, the average age in the raft was about 13, and the average weight (and therefore paddling muscle) about 110 lbs.  Once we started down the river, I quickly realized that we were out of my control.  I was particularly convinced of it when the guide said, “Okay, we’re heading towards House Rock, a large boulder sticking about 12 feet out of the water.  What we’re going to do is go down the rapids backwards, and bump into the rock as gently as we can, and then swing around to get by it.”  And so, as she turned the boat around, I found myself going backwards down the rapids and heading straight for the 10-ton boulder.  It was at that moment that I had to just give up and trust the guide.  For me, it was a risky moment.

As I re-read this story of Zaccheus, I wondered if he felt the same way, standing up in that tree with Jesus’ face looking through the leaves, and his voice saying, “Zaccheus, come down immediately!”  It was a risky moment.  Was he going to trust?

Way back in chapter 9, Luke tells us that Jesus “set his face towards Jerusalem.”

By the time we get to this story in chapter 19, Jesus is almost there.  But he first must pass through Jericho.  Now Jericho had done pretty well since the days when Joshua rearranged the walls of the city.  It had, in fact, become an important town.  And a very wealthy one.  The tax base was quite high, and it was here that Zaccheus lived.  Being a tax collector meant collaborating with the Romans who ruled the land, and it meant choosing the business deal with the Romans over the acceptance of his own people.  Not only that, but Zaccheus was a CHIEF tax collector; he was good at what he did, he was wealthy.  But wealth wasn’t the answer for Zaccheus. When Jesus came to town, Zaccheus was at least curious enough to want a good look.  But whatever wealth and power Zaccheus had with the Romans didn’t carry over to the Jews.  He was unable to even penetrate the crowd of his fellow countrymen lining the street to see Jesus. 

And so he did what he had always done, and used his brain.  He ran ahead and climbed up a tree right where Jesus would be coming by.   Now, that sycamore-fig tree was perfect  [climb up a ladder].  Low branches, so it was easy to get into.  Strong limbs to give some stability.  And lots of little heart- shaped leaves that made it easy to be incognito.  From that height, Zaccheus had a great view, a whole new perspective.  I have one just standing here on this ladder.  I see things I wouldn’t have otherwise.  I see that front pew is crooked.  I see the dust on the lights.  I also see that some of you have hair that’s thinner on top than I would have guessed! 

But the tree had another purpose for Zaccheus.  The tree was a safe place.  He could see everything, he didn’t have to put up with being elbowed out of the way by people who despised him, didn’t have to be noticed.  He was comfortable. He was safe and secure.   He could be an observer.  Until. 

Until Jesus stops right below him, looks up and calls him by name.  That was probably a little unnerving.   When someone knows your name, they know something about you.  If you want to build a relationship with somone…learn their name.  Business people know that.  In fact, sometimes they know too much.  “Hey, Dan, this is why I think this is a good deal for you, Dan, it’s been great talking to you, Dan, I’ll call you tomorrow for your decision, Dan.  Goodbye, Dan.”   Drives me crazy.  But I still do remember the first time someone who ended up being a mentor of mine in faith came up to me…I was still in high school, and said “Hey, aren’t you Dan Baumgartner?”  I thought, wow!  He knows me!   

But Jesus isn’t just stopping to say hi.  He says, Zaccheus, get down out of that tree.  Whoa.  That’s risky.  That’s uncomfortable.  Zaccheus doesn’t know Jesus, doesn’t know what he’s going to say or do…only knows that Jesus has invited himself over to his house. “ Zaccheus, will you come out of that tree?  I must stay at your house today.”  Now that little phrase “I must…” is one tiny word in Greek.  d-e-i.  It literally means, “It is necessary.”  So Jesus says, “It is necessary that I stay at your house today.” 

That’s interesting, isn’t it.  C’mon.  Zaccheus doesn’t have the only house in town.  Jesus could choose a hundred other houses, or the local Motel 6 or Marriott.   But this little phrase “it is necessary” is one that Luke uses (and in fact the whole New Testament uses) in a very particular way.  It’s almost always used in laying out the divine plan.  In talking about God’s purpose.  “It is necessary” means NOT that Jesus can’t find somewhere else to stay.  But if something big is going to happen in Zaccheus’ life, if God is going to draw close and touch him…it is necessary that Jesus stay with him.  And in order to bring that about, Jesus says, “Are you going to get out of that tree or not?”  Will you risk it?

So I want to ask you.  Are you in a safe place right now?  In life?  What is a safe place for you?   Are you nice and cozy up in a tree, just being an observer?  My experience is that as we journey with Christ, we are constantly being stretched and asked to leave behind what is comfortable.  There are different kinds of safe places.    When I first experienced God in a personal way, when there was that first sense of being called to follow Christ,  I felt like I was jumping off into the dark, not 100% sure what I would land on.  For many of us, the safe tree was sort of doing what everyone else was doing.  Going to college, starting a career, buying a house, doing whatever your crowd is doing.  

For me, there was a certain safety in holding spirituality at arms length.  Talking with other people about religion, studying spirituality, maybe even studying the Bible in a more philosophical or academic sense.  But there came a time when it suddenly hit me that I was being asked to go deeper,  to choose to call Christ, “Lord and Savior,” and give up control of my life to Someone bigger…called by Jesus to come out of the tree and follow,  whatever that meant.

For many of us, the adrenalin rush that accompanied plunging into a relationship with God fades somewhat as we get older.  We settle into more routine things, we lose some of the passionate spark.  In our best moments we want to think that means we have gained wisdom, and are not guided by emotion.  I’m not sure, however, that gaining wisdom should mean losing energy and passion.  But our careers demand a lot, or marriages or families.  We look for a place to get comfortable.  We plan for retirement, we raise kids, we analyze our career tracks.  We find a home group, a Bible study, a church where we fit in, and sort of hunker down to move through life.  Things are comfortable.  We maybe think about doing some kind of ministry after we retire, or we throw ourselves into a career thinking we can work really hard and retire early and then do something else. 

We climb a tree.  We can stand in it, watch life go by, shake our heads a little at the people who get themselves too worked up about issues of faith.  Think of the scary feeling in the pit of your stomach at that point to sense that Jesus might be standing there at the base of the tree, looking up and saying, “Are you going to come down from there?  I have something for you.  Come with me.”   It’s risky.  Now, I don’t know what that might look life for you.  Maybe a move.  Adopting a child.  Housing a refugee family.  Changing careers.  Changing finances. Joining a Bible study.  Working with kids.  Living in community.  Learning to pray. Working with a spiritual director.  Just as much as trusting Christ for the very first time, we are called again and again to decide: Will I get out of the tree to follow Jesus?  Am I willing to go beyond my comfort zone if it’s Jesus calling me?

This question of trust isn’t just some idle thought.  It gets hard.  It gets particularly hard when life is difficult.  “Sure, Jesus, I’ll follow you.  Sure I’ll switch careers, sure I’ll be stretched.”  But it’s more than just lifestyle decisions.  Someone you love gets really sick, or passes away.  Now can I trust?  On our trip to Montana we passed through Moscow, Idaho where my Grandma Pat is in a nursing home with severe Alzheimer’s.  This is the grandma I spent summers with, this is the grandma who cooked burgers in the evening and taught us to play pinochle.  We visited, brought our three kids in to see her.  She’s in a wheel chair, and virtually unresponsive to almost anything. No sign at all that she recognized me, or knew who we were at all.  That’s a hard place for me to trust. 

Somehow my trust in Christ must reach out to say, “I’ll get out of the tree here, too.  Even though I don’t understand it.  I know you love us, Lord, I know you spared NOTHING in sending your Son Jesus among us, that you gave everything.  And I’ve experienced something of the depth of that love, so I can’t doubt it.  But what about this Alzheimer’s, Lord?  I don’t get it.  Can I trust you to walk with me through this confusion, can I trust you that even here you are somehow sovereign, can I trust that even though Grandma has forgotten everything, that you will never forget her?”  That’s a difficult tree to get out of,  a hard spot to see Jesus calling me forward.  But there He is.

Zaccheus, of course, chooses to come out of the tree, much to the chagrin of the religious people gathered around.  “What business does he have getting cozy with this crook?” is the way Eugene Peterson puts their question. Zaccheus runs home to welcome Jesus.  I wondered if he had to hurry so he could clean up a little dirty laundry, throw out some beer cans and tear up the Penthouse magazines scattered around the living room?  I’m sure all of us have some places in life that we’d be a little embarrassed to invite Jesus into. 

Things are changing for Zaccheus.  Big changes.  His status in the community, his goals,  perhaps his job, certainly his financial situation.  And isn’t it interesting that his first words to Jesus are about money? Our attitude about money is such a reflection of what is going on inside of us.  Zaccheus promises to uphold the most severe Jewish and Roman laws in paying back fourfold anyone he has cheated.   But he goes way over the top in also giving away half of what he has to the poor.  It’s extravagant and over the top; it will change how Zaccheus lives his life.  But it is only a reflection of something that has happened inside of Zaccheus.  When he stepped out of that tree, he was trusting in someone besides himself.   He was choosing to ride in that boat going backwards down the rapids, trusting that the Guide knew what he was doing.   And Jesus relishes this, says that salvation has come to Zaccheus’ house.  This one deemed an outcast by even his own people, God’s chosen, has been redeemed, and is truly part of God’s people. 

“This,” Jesus says, “is what I’m about.  I came to seek and to save what was lost.”

Zaccheus had been lost.  Like all the chapters before this one…the lost son,  the lost sheep,  the lost coin…lost, like being out of place.  He was lost by not being where he belonged.  But now found, because he had been put back where he was meant to be.  Back in relationship with God, climbing out of a tree, trusting Jesus.

This sycamore-fig tree was easy to get into, solid to stand in, safe to hide in.  Zaccheus could have stayed up there where it was safe.  You can stay up in whatever tree you might be in, too.  But at every turn of life, if you look down, you will find that Jesus is there, calling you down.  Calling you to risk, calling you to trust, calling you to life.