Only natives of Detroit and its suburbs can truly appreciate Woodward Avenue—State Highway M 1. Woodward ran from the Detroit River to the far northern suburbs. As you drove north, storefront businesses and car dealerships gave way to high-end restaurants and shops, and this is where we would go to gawk at the rich.

Birmingham, Bloomfield Hills and its famed Cranbrook, stately homes, wide boulevards and expansive green lawns. We did not, however, gawk at any rich people—none were to be seen. Big houses, manicured lawns and gardens, but no people.

F. Scott Fitzgerald began his story, “The Rich Boy,” with these lines: “Let me tell you about the very rich. They are different from you and me.” My excursions to gawk at the rich proved that true, especially beyond the borders of the Great Lake State to the Golden State with Malibu, Palm Springs and Beverly Hills. But still no rich people to gawk at, not at street level.

In the Gospels, the rich and poor, though different, are not absent. The gospel writer Luke introduces us to two rich people who were different from everyone around them. First is the rich ruler in Luke 18. He asks Jesus the right question, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit life?” but isn’t happy with Jesus’ answer to sell all he has, give it to the poor, have treasure in heaven and follow Jesus.

When the people heard Jesus’ camel-through-the-eye-of-a-needle comparison, they were caught off guard. He’s rich—shouldn’t he have a different way to inherit eternal life? Perhaps they gawked at the ruler as he walked away, very sad.

Next, we meet Zacchaeus. Poor Zacchaeus—a chief tax collector who was rich at the expense of his own people. Poor Zacchaeus—a hated, rich chief tax collector. I wonder if Zacchaeus was glad for the anonymity the Jericho crowd offered. He easily slipped ahead, climbed that sycamore tree to make sure he saw Jesus from his vantage point, and remain unnoticed by the crowd, who weren’t on an excursion to gawk at the rich.

Except for Jesus. He not only focused on Zacchaeus but also invited himself over to the tax collector’s house, and then the people gawked and grumbled—not at the rich, but at Jesus who had “gone in to be the guest of a man who is a sinner.” (Luke 19:7)

We are not privy to the conversation Jesus and Zacchaeus had, but Luke lets us in on the end of Jesus’ visit when the lost was found and began to store treasures in heaven. Half of my wealth? Sure, why not? Fourfold restitution? No worries. By now, I suspect, the crowd was gawking at both him and Jesus.

Spiritually poor Zacchaeus was now rich, just as we are. In a grand fireworks display of words, Scripture describes God as abounding in steadfast love and compassion, preparing feasts before enemies, lavishing mercy on us, giving us immeasurable riches and a glorious inheritance.

Make no mistake, we are rich. What would happen if we shared these riches of grace and mercy with a hated sinner, someone more like sycamore-tree-climbing Zacchaeus than a respectable rich ruler. What if we caught up with Jesus and said, “Wait, I’m joining you and Zacchaeus for supper.” Or we showed fourfold compassion to the hurting or those who are hurtful. Or we no longer remain absent, and step out the front doors, daring to act and speak for all to see, even gawkers like I used to be.

I have a hunch that if people saw these displays of the riches, the good works God has done, they would end up gawking and then gazing at our Father in heaven, and not us.