NRS Luke 19:1
He entered Jericho and was passing through it. 2 A man was there named Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was rich. 3 He was trying to see who Jesus was, but on account of the crowd he could not, because he was short in stature. 4 So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore tree to see him, because he was going to pass that way. 5 When Jesus came to the place, he looked up and said to him, "Zacchaeus, hurry and come down; for I must stay at your house today." 6 So he hurried down and was happy to welcome him. 7 All who saw it began to grumble and said, "He has gone to be the guest of one who is a sinner."
8 Zacchaeus stood there and said to the Lord, "Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor; and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much." 9 Then Jesus said to him, "Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham. 10 For the Son of Man came to seek out and to save the lost."

The summer between my son's 5th and 6th grades, he had one of those late childhood-early adolescent growth spurts. It was like overnight and suddenly he was not the skinny little kid that had been running around the house just yesterday. Except in this case, he didn't grow up as much as he grew out, to the tune of about 25-30 pounds.

We didn't make too much of it. The kid liked to eat, and we both knew where he got that from. Besides, the pediatrician said not to worry; his height would eventually catch up with his weight. And I was okay with that, for a while. But as Tommy started high school he was, well, still on the pudgy side, and I have to say, he didn't look the way I expected my son to look. I'm embarrassed to admit that to myself, much less confess it to you, because after all, how petty can you get. I mean, he was a pretty happy kid, he was doing great in school, he had plenty of friends, and while I knew I loved him more dearly than my own life, there was just this tiny little seed of unacceptance in my heart.

Thanks to a link passed on to me by Vic Fair, just this week I read an article by pollster George Barna that included a section on what he termed "The Five P's of Parenthood." Those five p's are (1) preparation, (2) performing well, (3) pressure management, (4) protection, and the one that nailed me (5) public perception. We live in a world where perception is often mistaken for reality, and in a way I think truly different from our parents and grandparents, we are much, much more anxious about how our children are perceived by others, including their peer group, their coaches and teachers, and our own friends, family, and neighbors. I guess I was concerned for Tommy's image among his cohorts, but I have to admit, I was probably just as, or maybe more, concerned for how my son's public perception would reflect on me as his father.

Well, you know, when sons turn around 13 and 14 years of age, they often start butting heads with their dads over everything from meal times to bed times to the color of the sky. Mark Twain is reported to have said that when he was 14, he was absolutely convinced that his father was the most ignorant man on earth, bar none. I'm pretty sure Tommy felt that way about me, and not surprisingly, we spent a lot of time in one another's faces, hollering, yelling, and just on the verge of coming to blows over all sorts of seriously stupid and inane issues. Somehow, some way, by the sheer grace of God, it slowly dawned on me that I could spend the rest of my life trying to pound this kid into my image and make him speak, act, think, and look the way I wanted, or I could just accept him. Really, unreservedly, accept him.

It turns out that the pediatrician was right. At the beginning of his senior year he started shooting up and now he's like 3 inches taller than me, I outweigh him by something like 25-30 pounds, and he has this annoying habit of pinching this little inner tube that's settled around my midsection. I know that kind of growth is hormonally directed, but I can't help but think my one, little weak effort at acceptance gave him permission to be who he was going to be, rather than what I wanted him, for my own selfish purposes, to be.

And by the way, when Tommy's home this Christmas, you better not tell him I told this story. He would kick my butt! But I'm taking that chance because I suspect that maybe there's somebody in your life that you love dearly, deeply, with everything you've got, but maybe there's just this one little seed of unacceptance in your heart. Maybe there's some urge in you to make that son or daughter, husband or wife, mother or father, into someone or something different from who they really are. And maybe you're wondering what to give them this Christmas: maybe something to get that hair out of their eyes; maybe something to cover up that ghastly tattoo; maybe something to make them stand a little straighter or make them look a little slimmer.

I would counsel you to resist those urges, and instead give that special someone the gift that Jesus gave to Zacchaeus, and what he's also given to you - acceptance; unqualified, outright acceptance. Amazing things could happen.

In the Name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.