Dust settles slowly over the busy streets of Capernaum. Merchants shout their wares, fishermen haul their catches, and townsfolk pass by. Each of them stops to cast dark, hateful glances at a particular booth on the roadside.
In this small, despised station sits a man named Matthew, hunched over his ledger, counting coins. Matthew is a tax collector: a traitor to his kin and a friend to Rome.
Hunched over in his shame, Matthew looks up to see a figure standing at his booth. A famous Rabbi: Jesus of Nazareth.
Their eyes meet. Matthew’s heart pounds. A wave of shame hits him, flooding his senses. But instead of disgust, judgment, or hatred, the eyes of Jesus are filled with warmth, compassion, and… an invitation…
Then, two words fall softly yet powerfully from Jesus’ lips:
"Follow me." (Matthew 9:9)
The coins slip from Matthew’s trembling hands, landing in silence. The tax booth fades into irrelevance. This is the moment of no return, and Matthew knows it. He rises, leaving behind wealth, security, and shame, walking into redemption.
To understand the power of this moment, you must grasp who Matthew truly was.
In Roman-occupied Israel, tax collectors were reviled. They were Jews who had turned against their own people, working for Rome, squeezing their neighbors dry.
They collected taxes for Caesar, adding their own hefty commission on top. To their community, tax collectors were thieves, traitors, and spiritual untouchables. To the eyes of his kin, Matthew was a sinner beyond redemption.
For Matthew, choosing this life meant crossing a point of no return. His family would’ve disowned him. Friends would’ve shunned him. Rome itself would punish desertion severely. He was stuck between a past he couldn’t return to and a future he couldn’t escape.
And yet, when Jesus offered a new life, Matthew didn’t hesitate.
He knew the cost. He’d counted it many times. After all, he was gifted with numbers.
But this Rabbi offered something Rome couldn’t buy, and shame couldn’t erase: grace.
Matthew stood and left it all behind. No turning back.
Matthew’s transformation didn’t end when he walked away from the booth. His story poured into the words of the Gospel he would eventually write.
Matthew’s gospel stands apart in profound ways. Written primarily to his fellow Jews, it meticulously ties Jesus’ life to Old Testament prophecy.
In every verse, Matthew proclaims: "This Jesus is the promised Messiah."
The former tax collector painstakingly arranges teachings, parables, and miracles to show Israel that Jesus is their long-awaited King, the fulfillment of every promise.
And yet, Matthew, once an outcast, also emphasizes something scandalous: Jesus loved sinners.
Matthew’s Gospel goes to great lengths to mention that the tax collectors, prostitutes, and outsiders consistently find mercy.
It’s as if Matthew is constantly whispering between the lines: "He welcomed me. He can welcome you."
CONSIDER THIS:
Are there any ‘tax collectors’ in your life? Are there any people you’ve written off as irredeemable and wicked? Make an effort to see as Jesus sees today.
Perhaps Matthew saw himself clearly in Jesus’ parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector (Luke 18:9-14):
“Two men went up to the temple to pray… one a Pharisee, the other a tax collector.”
The Pharisee boasted of his righteousness, looking down in prideful disdain. But the tax collector, deeply aware of his brokenness, stood far off, unable to lift his eyes to heaven, simply praying, "God, have mercy on me, a sinner."
Matthew knew that moment intimately.
He knew the depths of sin and the boundless reach of grace.
His humility had been forged in the fire of his own failure. His transformation was born from encountering a Savior who loved sinners as fiercely as He hated their sins.
Matthew’s story is about a sinner experiencing true grace. It’s about brokenness redeemed by love. It's a story that proclaims boldly: No one is beyond the reach of Christ.
Maybe you feel stuck in your own "tax booth" today.
Perhaps shame whispers that you’ve gone too far, chosen a path from which there's no returning.
But look up from your ledger. Jesus is passing by. His eyes aren’t filled with judgment, but invitation. His voice calls you by name, just as He called Matthew:
"Follow me."
Will you stand and leave it all behind?
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