“Then Zacchaeus stood and said to the Lord, ‘Look, Lord, I give half of my goods to the poor; and if I have taken anything from anyone by false accusation, I restore fourfold.’”
— Luke 19:8 (NKJV)
When Zacchaeus encountered Jesus, something remarkable happened—his heart shifted. The man who once clung to wealth as his security suddenly opened his hands. He gave generously, restored what he had wrongly taken, and rejoiced in a greater treasure that money could never buy.
This moment stands in contrast to the rich young ruler, who walked away sorrowful when asked to part with his possessions. Outwardly, that ruler had kept commandments, but inwardly, his heart was bound by another master—his wealth. Zacchaeus, however, shows us that when Christ becomes the true treasure, lesser treasures lose their grip.
Notice too that Jesus did not command Zacchaeus to do this. No demand was made. Instead, out of the abundance of joy that came from receiving Christ, Zacchaeus offered freely. Grace had unlocked what duty and law could never achieve.
This kind of transformation is what makes a legacy endure. It reminds us that true wealth stewardship begins not with ledgers and balances but with the posture of the heart. What we treasure determines how we live, how we give, and what we leave behind. A life anchored in Christ creates ripple effects of generosity, restoration, and faithfulness that reach far beyond our own years.
Jesus’ journey through Jericho was no accident. Just as Jericho once fell before the Israelites in Joshua’s day, here another “fortress” fell—Zacchaeus’ stronghold of wealth and self-reliance. His heart became new territory claimed by the kingdom of God, a promised land redeemed by grace.
God’s words to Abram echo here: “Look now toward heaven, and count the stars if you are able to number them. So shall your descendants be.” (Genesis 15:5). Abram’s descendants are not merely those of flesh and blood, but those who, like Zacchaeus, are transformed by faith. His story reminds us that each act of surrendered stewardship, born of joy in Christ, is part of a far greater inheritance—an eternal one.
As we reflect on Zacchaeus, we are invited to consider not only how we manage our resources, but what they reveal about the affections of our heart. Do we hold on tightly, fearful of loss? Or do we, in the freedom of grace, see our resources as tools for restoration, blessing, and the shaping of a legacy that reflects God’s kingdom?
True wealth is not measured by what we keep, but by what Christ has already given.
