Zacchaeus had been but a sinner, a child of nature, which is, as we know, corrupt in its springs and in its activities. But He had been just at that moment under the drawings of the Father, and his soul was making Jesus its object. He wished to see Him, and that desire being commanding, he had pressed his way through the crowd, and climbed up into a sycamore tree, if he might but just see Him as He passed by. The Lord looked up, and at once invited Himself into his house. This is very peculiar. Jesus is an uninvited, self-invited guest in the house of that publican at Jericho.
The earliest strivings of life in a poor sinner, the desire which had been awakened by the drawings of the Father, were there in that house ready to welcome Him; but sweetly and significantly He anticipates the welcome, and goes in—goes in in full, consistent, responsive character, to kindle and strengthen the freshly quickened life, till it break forth in some of its precious virtue, and yield some of its own good fruit.
“Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor; and if I have taken anything from any man by false accusation, I restore him fourfold.”
At Emmaus, desire had been again quickened but under different conditions. It was not the desire of a freshly drawn soul, but of restored saints. These two disciples had been unbelieving. They were returning home under a sorrow that Jesus had disappointed them. The Lord rebukes them shortly after He joined them on the road, but so orders His words as to kindle their hearts. When their walk together ends at the gate of their dwelling, the Lord makes as though He would go further. He would not invite Himself, as He had done at Jericho. They were not in the moral state which suggested this, as Zacchaeus had been; but, when invited, He goes in—goes in just to kindle further the desire which had now invited Him—to gratify it to the full. And so He does; and they are constrained by their joy to return to the city that night, late as it was, to communicate it to their fellows.
How full of various beauty all these cases are! The guest in the house of Pharisees, the guest in the house of publicans, the guest in the house of disciples—the invited and the uninvited guest, in the person of Jesus, sits in His place, in all perfection and beauty.
I might instance Him as a guest at other tables; but I will now look only at one more. At Bethany we see Him adopting a family scene. Had Jesus disallowed the idea of a Christian family, He could not have been at Bethany, as we see He was. And yet, when we get Him there, it is only some new phase of moral beauty that we trace in Him. He is a friend of the family, finding as we find to this day among ourselves, a home in the midst of them. “Now Jesus loved Martha, and Mary, and Lazarus,” are words which bespeak this. His love to them was not that of a Savior, or a shepherd, though we know well He was each of these. to them. It was the love of a family friend. But though a friend, an intimate friend, who might, whenever He pleased, find a welcome there; yet He did not interfere with the arrangements of the house. Martha was the housekeeper, the busy one of the family, useful and important in her place; and Jesus will surely leave her where He finds her. It was not for Him to alter, or settle such matters. Lazarus may sit by the side of the guests at the family table, Mary may be abstracted and withdrawn as in her own kingdom, or into the kingdom of God within her, and Martha be busy and serving. Be it so. Jesus leaves all this just as He finds it, and when He entered into the house of these sisters and their brother, He will not meddle with its order and arrangements, and in full moral comeliness this is. But if one of the family, instead of carrying herself in her family place, step out of it to be a teacher in His presence, He must and will then resume His higher character, and set things right divinely, though He would not interfere with them or touch them domestically. (Luke 10).
What various and exquisite beauty! Who can trace all His paths! The vulture will have to say, it is beyond even the reach of his eye. And if no human eye can fully scan the whole of this one object, where is the human character that does not aid in setting off its light by its own shadows and imperfections?
“I know no one,” says another, “so kind, so condescending, who is come down to poor sinners, as He. I trust His love more than I do Mary’s or any saint’s; not merely His power as God, but the tenderness of His heart as man. No one ever showed such, or had such, or proved it so well—none has inspired me with such confidence. Let others go to saints or to angels, if they will; I trust Jesus’ kindness more.”
“But further: there are in Him combinations of characters, as well as of virtues or graces. His relationship to the world, when He was here, exhibits this. He was at once a conqueror, a sufferer, and a benefactor. What moral glories shine in such an assemblage! He overcame the world, refusing all its attractions and offers; He suffered from it, He blessed it, dispensing His love and power continually, returning good for evil. Its temptations only made Him a conqueror; its pollutions and enmities only a sufferer; its miseries only a Benefactor. What a combination! What moral glories shine in each other’s company there!”