when you don't feel ready

A new year dawns like the morning sun over a field, blanketed in freshly fallen snow. It's like the crisp, blank pages of an unused journal-- still smelling of paper and leather and newness, holding a world of potential hopes and dreams. Resolutions will be set by all the people and come January those goals will be set in full force… more exercising, more prayer times, more cleaning, more Bible-reading, less television, less drinking, less junk food, no more partying, no more swearing. The list of all the ways we try to prepare ourselves for the new year is endless. Bruised and broken from walking the roads of last year, we are ready to shed our skin, to start a new year with peeled backed layers and start over fresh.

This upcoming new year's pages have no spills or stains or messy parts yet. It's an unwritten book, full of possibility. And in my foolish, desperate state I hope that somehow with enough work and sweat and preparing, I can rid myself of last year's mess and ready myself for a new year. But this new start is settling upon us quickly, a mere few days away. And I'm in a panic, desperately clawing for more time because I am not ready yet.

In the Gospel of Luke is the story of Zacchaeus. With all the Sunday school stories and songs written about the "wee little man", you are more than likely quite familiar with his story. But bear with me here as I walk the pages of Luke 19 again. We find Jesus in these verses, passing through Jericho. The throngs of people surround Him and crowd about, desperate for a touch or a glimpse. He walks along the roadside with the people, and here is where we meet Zacchaeus.  Zacchaeus- the wealthy tax collector who ripped his own people off. Zaccheaus- despised by his community. Zacchaeus- the crook and the thief. Zacchaeus- whose life is in shambles. Zacchaeus- who wants to see who Jesus is. When we first meet the little man, he appears to be in a bit of a sorry state… jumping up above the heads of all the taller-than-him people (I'd assume that would be just about everyone in the crowd), running up ahead, climbing trees, hiding beneath their branches. The picture painted for us is a humorously sad one. 

I found it funny that the Bible specifically states that Zacchaeus climbed up a sycamore tree. I mean, why mention such a detail? So I looked up this sycamore tree, attempting to learn a bit more about it and what made it so special. With much thanks to google-searches and wikipedia, I learned enough about the tree to write a 5-page paper. However I discovered one thing about the sycamore tree that made me pause. One of the sycamore's most distinctive features is its density and the covering it provides for those standing beneath it. Its warped, twisty branches make the perfect hiding place for critters. And also for small, messy people-- like Zaccheaus. So now we see a man with a messy life climbing not into just any old tree… but into this sycamore tree, known for its dense, messy leaves and branches. This sycamore tree that he thinks will hide his mess and his shame, but still give him a glimpse when Jesus passes by.

And what does Jesus do? He sees past the mess. My sweet, ever-loving Jesus sees this man in his mess and calls to him, "Hurry! Come down immediately." Jesus is not deterred by the mess of the situation nor does He command Zaccheaus to clean up his sorry state. Instead He goes on to say, "Today I must stay your house." Jesus doesn't just call Zaccheaus down. Jesus wants to dwell with him. 

This little tax collector and messy-hearted sinner, what does he do? He receives Him gladly. He didn't cower behind the mess of the sycamore leaves and branches like he could've done. He didn't first attempt to clean up his heart and his life. He didn't say wait one more minute. He hurried down and received Him gladly. Yes we do see this man's heart and life changed in later verses, and what an awesome thing that is. But I love how first he hurries down and first he receives Him and first Jesus wants to dwell with him. 

And I especially love the way Jesus meets him in the mess. 

Much like the upcoming new year, Jesus stands before me. With hands outstretched, He speaks of hope and promise and fresh pages and grace. And in the distance, I stand under the shade of a sycamore tree-- wanting to see who He is, but staying far enough away to hide the mess of myself. Looking at the state of my ugliness, I tremble. I need more time to prepare. I'm not ready to walk those pages of hope and love and grace. And so I look at Him and I cower behind the thick leaves of the sycamore.

No, I am not ready for a new year. Jesus is calling and my messy heart wants to say, "Wait! Please! I can fix this first!" But really, I can't. Because I will never be 'ready enough' for anything He calls me to. I remember when my feet were not ready to leave American soil for the first time. I remember when my heart was not ready to say goodbye for 6 months and leave behind the only life I knew. I remember when I wasn't ready for special-needs and therapy and wheel chairs and feeding tubes. I remember when I wasn't ready to love a strange and unfamiliar country. I remember when I wasn't ready to be a school teacher to a classroom of 7 wild and crazy children. But I remember that He was. He has always been ready. He doesn't call us to fix the messy. He doesn't ask us to achieve a certain level of qualifications and prepared-ness. He calls out to us, asking only to be invited into the messy.

There are things, many things, about this new year that I don't feel ready for. And while I can't wait to share some of those things with you, I'm terrified to come down from the dense shadows of the sycamore tree. I'm scared to let Him into the mess of my flesh and my heart and my sin and my inadequacies. But still, He beckons, "Let Me into your mess. Let Me dwell with you…" 

Can you hear Him, calling?