Today Salvation Has Come to This House

November 07, 2025

Today Salvation Has Come to This House

November 9, 2025

Opening Thought

It’s easy to feel unseen. In our busy lives, we can feel like just another face in the crowd, known for our job title or our family role, but rarely seen for who we truly are, with all our flaws, our longings, and our hidden sins. We often hide, perhaps thinking we are too unimportant, too busy, or too far gone for God to notice.

Then there is the story of Zacchaeus. For many of us, this story immediately brings to mind the childhood song: "Zacchaeus was a wee little man, a wee little man was he..." It’s a catchy tune that evokes comfort and familiarity, helping us remember the Gospel lesson. Yet, as an adult, I now wonder if Zacchaeus wasn't just climbing the tree to see Jesus, but maybe, just maybe, to hide.

This brings me to my paternal grandmother, Rebecca Poe’s, enormous magnolia tree. When I say it was big, it was truly immense! It reached up to the heavens. My cousin taught me how to climb it, and its branches, as thick as small trees, seemed to reach down, inviting us up. From the top, we could see for what felt like miles, enjoying our small, elevated world. It was wonderful to be hidden, or at least what I thought was hidden, but my grandmother always seemed to see us, always found us. Looking back, I marvel that we never fell and broke a bone, but we were great climbers. Sometimes I wish that tree was still around, not to get away, but to climb it again—this time to see from a new perspective, perhaps to notice something I hadn't before.

Perhaps Zacchaeus, too, was looking to hide, not realizing that deep down he wanted to be found, to be noticed, to be helped. We all need help at some time in our lives, but we often miss that God is already there, already here. He sees us even when we don’t. I have wonderful memories of singing that childhood song and of climbing that glorious magnolia, but what I failed to realize was that God himself was there right beside me the whole time, and I believe he still is.

Zacchaeus was looking for Jesus, but he never expected Jesus to be looking for him. This Sunday, our lessons are about this shocking, personal, and transformative power of being seen by God. It’s a reminder that God’s grace doesn't wait for us to become righteous. It seeks us out in the midst of our mess, calls us by name, and invites itself into our lives, bringing with it a joy that changes everything.

Engaging the Word

The heart of our liturgy is the story of Zacchaeus (Luke 19:1-10). Jesus is passing through Jericho, and the crowd is so thick that Zacchaeus, a "wee little man," can't see. He runs ahead and climbs a tree—a desperate, undignified, and humble act. Jesus stops, looks up, and says, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today." Jesus doesn't just see him; he invites himself into the home of the most notorious sinner in town, scandalizing the crowd.

The encounter transforms Zacchaeus instantly. He doesn't make excuses. He stands and makes a public, radical declaration: "Look, half of my possessions I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone, I will pay back four times as much." This isn't just repentance; it's restorative justice. Jesus's response is the good news for all of us: "Today salvation has come to this house... For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost."

Zacchaeus's joyful action is the perfect fulfillment of the prophet Isaiah's (1:10-18) demand. God, through Isaiah, declares he is weary of empty, hypocritical ritual: "I have had enough of burnt offerings... your incense is an abomination... your festivals I hate." God doesn't want sacrifices; he wants justice. "Cease to do evil, learn to do good; seek justice, rescue the oppressed." Zacchaeus, in one moment of grace, stops his empty life and learns to do good, embodying the very justice God demands. His sins, though "like scarlet," are made "like snow."

Psalm 32 (1-8) captures the profound emotional release of this moment. Before his encounter, Zacchaeus was living with the "heavy hand" of unconfessed sin. But after, he embodies the pure joy of the psalmist: "Happy are they whose transgressions are forgiven, and whose sin is put away!" His public confession and restoration bring him a happiness his wealth never could.

Finally, 2 Thessalonians (1:1-4, 11-12) shows us the result of this transformed life. Paul prays that God will make the faithful "worthy of his calling." Zacchaeus's story is a perfect picture of this. His new life of generosity and justice is the evidence of God's power at work, a life that "glorifies the name of our Lord Jesus."

A Journey in Song: Our Musical Guides

Our music today creates a powerful "bookend," beginning our service with a declaration of God as our eternal refuge and ending with a triumphant fanfare on that very same theme.

We begin with a serious, searching, and grand Opening Voluntary: Johann Sebastian Bach’s Prelude and Fugue in E Minor, BWV 533. Often nicknamed "Cathedral" (a moniker attributed to none other than Felix Mendelssohn, who admired it even at 13 years old), this piece is perfectly suited for large pipe organs in the reverberant space of a cathedral. Its complex, driving, and weighty character immediately sets a tone of deep contemplation. The sheer scale and intricate counterpoint of Bach's writing evoke the grandeur and gravitas of God's presence, reflecting the immense challenge of Isaiah's call for justice and the "heavy hand" of unconfessed sin described in the psalm. To play such a piece in a cathedral setting is to acknowledge the vastness of the spiritual journey, the solemnity of our human condition, and the profound depth of the encounter with grace that Zacchaeus—and we—are called to. It prepares our hearts for the weighty matters of sin, repentance, and the ultimate joy of salvation.

The Entrance Hymn, "O God, our help in ages past" (#680), immediately establishes our theme. It is our great hymn of trust, our "shelter from the stormy blast." It is the perfect hymn for Zacchaeus, a man whose life was a "stormy blast" of his own making, who finally finds his "eternal home" in God's grace.
The Sequence Hymn, "How firm a foundation" (#636), provides the strength needed for a life-altering encounter. To make the kind of change Zacchaeus did requires a firm foundation. This hymn is God's promise, "Fear not, I am with thee... I will strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand," which is exactly what Jesus did for Zacchaeus.

The Anthem, "If Ye Love Me" by Thomas Tallis, is the gentle hinge of the entire service. It connects Isaiah's call for action with Zacchaeus's loving response. Zacchaeus's pledge to give to the poor and restore what he stole is the ultimate proof of his new-found love for Christ; he is "keeping the commandments."

The Presentation Hymn, "For the fruit of all creation" (#424), is a perfect echo of Zacchaeus's pledge. We sing, "In the just and generous measure... we ourselves may be / selfless gifts to God and neighbor." This is precisely what Zacchaeus does. He takes the "fruit" of his life and, for the first time, offers it back in a "just and generous measure."

The Communion Hymn, "I am the bread of life" (#335), brings us to the source of salvation. Zacchaeus offered Jesus a physical meal, but in doing so, he received the spiritual food that truly satisfies. Jesus, by his very presence in that house, is the Bread of Life that brought salvation.

The Post-Communion Hymn, "Ye holy angels bright" (#625), is our joyful response. When Jesus declared "Today salvation has come to this house," all of heaven rejoiced. We join that heavenly chorus, singing praises with the angels for the lost who have been found.

Our Closing Voluntary by H. Alexander Matthews gives us a magnificent bookend. We hear the theme of "O God, our help in ages past" again, but this time as a triumphant, powerful postlude. We began in solemn trust, we heard the story of salvation, and now we are sent forth with a glorious, resounding affirmation that God is, and always will be, our help and our home.

A Closing Note on Our Journey

We are all, in some way, Zacchaeus. We are all "too busy," "too sinful," "too rich," "too poor," or "too ashamed" to be seen. We are all hiding in a tree of our own making, just hoping to get a glimpse of grace from a safe distance.

The incredible good news of this Sunday is that Jesus doesn't wait for us to climb down and get our lives in order. He stops. He sees us. He calls us by name. And he invites himself into the mess. Salvation comes not when we are perfect, but when we welcome His presence, a presence that, by its very nature, transforms us and fills us with a joy that overflows into justice.

This Sunday is also our Stewardship Sunday, a sacred moment when we bring our gifts of money, time, and talent before God and the People. Christ Church Episcopal in Macon is, indeed, a generous place—a living community of folks from all walks of life. We strive to be good and just. Now more than ever, our brothers and sisters are struggling within our community. We don't just give to keep the lights on or to pay our staff; we give cheerfully and joyfully to support those who are in need, to provide so that we can do the things we are sent forth to do in the love and grace of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Perhaps we also give generously because it is what our heart tells us to do—it is right, and a good, and joyful thing. I was brought up in a family that taught me we should do everything we could to help someone in need. I don't always live up to that, and I often find that I fall short. But once again, we have to remind ourselves that even though we may fall short, God is there to lift us up and show us the way. It is this transforming joy, a joy that makes us want to share all that we have, that truly marks the house where salvation has come.

A Prayer for the Week Ahead

Let us pray for the Church and for the world.

For the Church, that it may be a body that actively seeks out the lost, offering radical hospitality to all, and celebrating the salvation that comes to every house that welcomes Christ,