Journey to Healing - The Path to Peace: Healing our Minds in His Presence
In His Presence: Where Broken Hearts Begin to Mend
From the Journey to Healing series
John 11:30–39 | Mother’s Day Message | Pastor Tammy Long
From the Journey to Healing series
John 11:30–39 | Mother’s Day Message | Pastor Tammy Long
Quick Glance: For Your Heart Today
Whether this day brings joy or ache, Jesus sees you. He doesn’t rush your pain or silence your sorrow—He joins you in it. In John 11, we meet a weeping Savior, one who groans with compassion and heals with presence. This message is for the tender places in your heart.
3 Takeaways:
If You Only Have a Moment
Sometimes we don’t have the time or space to take in a full message. But even now, in just a moment of pause, God can meet you.
Perhaps this simple prayer is enough for today:
“Jesus, here’s where it hurts…”
“Thank you that I don’t have to carry this alone.”
“Let your healing begin in me.”
Estimated reading time for the full message below: 11–13 minutes
Whether this day brings joy or ache, Jesus sees you. He doesn’t rush your pain or silence your sorrow—He joins you in it. In John 11, we meet a weeping Savior, one who groans with compassion and heals with presence. This message is for the tender places in your heart.
3 Takeaways:
- Jesus meets us where it hurts, offering empathy, not distance.
- You are deeply seen and loved, even in the tender, broken places.
- Healing begins in His presence—not when everything is fixed, but when we know we’re not alone.
If You Only Have a Moment
Sometimes we don’t have the time or space to take in a full message. But even now, in just a moment of pause, God can meet you.
Perhaps this simple prayer is enough for today:
“Jesus, here’s where it hurts…”
“Thank you that I don’t have to carry this alone.”
“Let your healing begin in me.”
Estimated reading time for the full message below: 11–13 minutes
Scripture Text: John 11:30-39
30 Jesus had stayed outside the village, at the place where Martha met him. 31 When the people who were at the house consoling Mary saw her leave so hastily, they assumed she was going to Lazarus’s grave to weep. So they followed her there. 32 When Mary arrived and saw Jesus, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
33 When Jesus saw her weeping and saw the other people wailing with her, a deep anger welled up within him, and he was deeply troubled. 34 “Where have you put him?” he asked them.
They told him, “Lord, come and see.” 35 Then Jesus wept. 36 The people who were standing nearby said, “See how much he loved him!” 37 But some said, “This man healed a blind man. Couldn’t he have kept Lazarus from dying?”
38 Jesus was still angry as he arrived at the tomb, a cave with a stone rolled across its entrance. 39 “Roll the stone aside,” Jesus told them.
33 When Jesus saw her weeping and saw the other people wailing with her, a deep anger welled up within him, and he was deeply troubled. 34 “Where have you put him?” he asked them.
They told him, “Lord, come and see.” 35 Then Jesus wept. 36 The people who were standing nearby said, “See how much he loved him!” 37 But some said, “This man healed a blind man. Couldn’t he have kept Lazarus from dying?”
38 Jesus was still angry as he arrived at the tomb, a cave with a stone rolled across its entrance. 39 “Roll the stone aside,” Jesus told them.
Introduction
Good morning, family—and Happy Mother’s Day. And what a special morning we’ve had thus far. I know for many, this day brings warm memories, joy, and celebration. But for others, it brings heartache, longing, or grief. And if we’re honest, some of us feel all of that at once. Joy and sorrow can sit right next to each other in the same row.
Some of you had mothers who nurtured you with tenderness. Others grew up without that kind of love. Some of you are celebrating your children today. Others are grieving children you’ve lost—or the children you never got to hold or have. And some of us are simply tired of carrying the weight of caregiving and parenting, but wouldn’t say that out loud.
Wherever you find yourself this morning, remember this: Jesus is with you. Right where you are. Right now. He sees your heart. He knows your joys and your pain. And He cares.
We’re currently in a sermon series called Journey to Healing—exploring the unique healing that only Jesus offers. Not just physical or surface healing, but healing that flows from His presence—touching our minds and our hearts. Jesus’ death and resurrection didn’t only forgive our sins—it began the restoration of everything that was broken when sin entered the world.
Now it’s important to say: Jesus can work through therapy, counseling, and community. Those paths are not only helpful but sometimes essential as part of the healing journey, too. But in this series, we’ve focused on the foundational healing that begins when we slow down, make space, and get in Jesus’ presence—remembering who we are and whose we are. When we experience Him personally, in our gut, spirit to spirit—and we’ve been using the spiritual practice of imaginative prayer to do that.
Good morning, family—and Happy Mother’s Day. And what a special morning we’ve had thus far. I know for many, this day brings warm memories, joy, and celebration. But for others, it brings heartache, longing, or grief. And if we’re honest, some of us feel all of that at once. Joy and sorrow can sit right next to each other in the same row.
Some of you had mothers who nurtured you with tenderness. Others grew up without that kind of love. Some of you are celebrating your children today. Others are grieving children you’ve lost—or the children you never got to hold or have. And some of us are simply tired of carrying the weight of caregiving and parenting, but wouldn’t say that out loud.
Wherever you find yourself this morning, remember this: Jesus is with you. Right where you are. Right now. He sees your heart. He knows your joys and your pain. And He cares.
We’re currently in a sermon series called Journey to Healing—exploring the unique healing that only Jesus offers. Not just physical or surface healing, but healing that flows from His presence—touching our minds and our hearts. Jesus’ death and resurrection didn’t only forgive our sins—it began the restoration of everything that was broken when sin entered the world.
Now it’s important to say: Jesus can work through therapy, counseling, and community. Those paths are not only helpful but sometimes essential as part of the healing journey, too. But in this series, we’ve focused on the foundational healing that begins when we slow down, make space, and get in Jesus’ presence—remembering who we are and whose we are. When we experience Him personally, in our gut, spirit to spirit—and we’ve been using the spiritual practice of imaginative prayer to do that.
The Wounds We Carry
Last week we looked at healing our minds in Jesus’ presence. And today, we’re going to look at healing our hearts. Because Jesus doesn’t just touch what’s visible. He meets us in places that still ache—wounds we may have stuffed down but are still in our hearts.
Some of those wounds came from trauma—things that broke us open and left damage in their wake. But other wounds happened more slowly—a parent who was absent or emotionally unavailable, a friendship or marriage that ended painfully, a child you lost—or never got to meet. And if we’re honest, we may have some faith wounds too. Wounds from when God didn’t show up the way we hoped. Or from when the church didn’t reflect the heart of Christ and hurt us.
We learn to keep moving—wounds and all. We learn to function, lead, serve—while carrying pain that’s never really healed. But those wounds can still affect us. What’s buried can turn into bitterness. What’s unhealed can distort how we see ourselves, how we trust others, and how we relate to God.
And yet—here’s the hope that brings us to today: We aren’t without a helper to heal. Jesus meets us in our wounds. He weeps with those who weep. He loves us in the spaces that are tender. And in His presence—we can receive His healing touch.
Last week we looked at healing our minds in Jesus’ presence. And today, we’re going to look at healing our hearts. Because Jesus doesn’t just touch what’s visible. He meets us in places that still ache—wounds we may have stuffed down but are still in our hearts.
Some of those wounds came from trauma—things that broke us open and left damage in their wake. But other wounds happened more slowly—a parent who was absent or emotionally unavailable, a friendship or marriage that ended painfully, a child you lost—or never got to meet. And if we’re honest, we may have some faith wounds too. Wounds from when God didn’t show up the way we hoped. Or from when the church didn’t reflect the heart of Christ and hurt us.
We learn to keep moving—wounds and all. We learn to function, lead, serve—while carrying pain that’s never really healed. But those wounds can still affect us. What’s buried can turn into bitterness. What’s unhealed can distort how we see ourselves, how we trust others, and how we relate to God.
And yet—here’s the hope that brings us to today: We aren’t without a helper to heal. Jesus meets us in our wounds. He weeps with those who weep. He loves us in the spaces that are tender. And in His presence—we can receive His healing touch.
Jesus Was Deeply Moved
Mary has fallen at Jesus’ feet, heartbroken. And she’s not grieving alone. The house is filled with mourners—and in that cultural tradition, they aren’t just quietly crying. They are wailing. Loudly. Grief was in the air—and it filled every space around Jesus.
And when He sees Mary’s anguish and hears the cries of those around her—Scripture says, “A deep emotion welled up within him, and he was deeply troubled” (v. 33). The Greek word used here is strong. It describes someone moved with forceful emotion. Not just stirred. Not just sad. But a deep groaning from the depths of His spirit. In other words, Jesus’ soul is deeply agitated.
Some translations say “a deep anger.” Others say “a strong inward groaning.” Either way, Jesus has very strong feelings here. And it wasn’t just a passing feeling—notice in verse 38 it says He was still angry when He arrived at the tomb. The connotation of this word in Greek is to be deeply moved with displeasure and indignation.
It’s a holy “No” rising up in Him. No—to death. No—to grief. No—to the wreckage and sorrow caused by sin. A guttural response that this is not how life is meant to be for God’s beloved. Jesus—who is the resurrection and the life—feels that dissonance in His bones.
What’s more, there is an even deeper ache that causes Jesus to groan in His spirit. He’s not angry at Mary or the mourners, per se, as much as He feels a deep longing that they would see more clearly who He is—and comprehend that they could reach through their grief and hold on to the hope that was standing right in front of them.
I believe it troubles Jesus when we cannot see what He’s trying to give us—not because He’s displeased with us, but troubled for us. So yes—Jesus is deeply moved. He groans. He is troubled. Out of His deep love for us. A love so full, so engaged, and so present with our suffering, that it can’t help but shake with deep emotion.
Mary has fallen at Jesus’ feet, heartbroken. And she’s not grieving alone. The house is filled with mourners—and in that cultural tradition, they aren’t just quietly crying. They are wailing. Loudly. Grief was in the air—and it filled every space around Jesus.
And when He sees Mary’s anguish and hears the cries of those around her—Scripture says, “A deep emotion welled up within him, and he was deeply troubled” (v. 33). The Greek word used here is strong. It describes someone moved with forceful emotion. Not just stirred. Not just sad. But a deep groaning from the depths of His spirit. In other words, Jesus’ soul is deeply agitated.
Some translations say “a deep anger.” Others say “a strong inward groaning.” Either way, Jesus has very strong feelings here. And it wasn’t just a passing feeling—notice in verse 38 it says He was still angry when He arrived at the tomb. The connotation of this word in Greek is to be deeply moved with displeasure and indignation.
It’s a holy “No” rising up in Him. No—to death. No—to grief. No—to the wreckage and sorrow caused by sin. A guttural response that this is not how life is meant to be for God’s beloved. Jesus—who is the resurrection and the life—feels that dissonance in His bones.
What’s more, there is an even deeper ache that causes Jesus to groan in His spirit. He’s not angry at Mary or the mourners, per se, as much as He feels a deep longing that they would see more clearly who He is—and comprehend that they could reach through their grief and hold on to the hope that was standing right in front of them.
I believe it troubles Jesus when we cannot see what He’s trying to give us—not because He’s displeased with us, but troubled for us. So yes—Jesus is deeply moved. He groans. He is troubled. Out of His deep love for us. A love so full, so engaged, and so present with our suffering, that it can’t help but shake with deep emotion.
"I Was This Mad": A God Story
A spiritual director friend once shared about a woman who had experienced deep trauma and pain. She had been asking the hard question many of us have asked: “God, where were You?”
One day on a retreat near the ocean, during a violent thunderstorm, she found herself alone in the chapel crying out to God that same question. As she retells the story, she was in the chapel and found herself all but screaming in anguish above the noise of the storm: “Where were You? Where were you when I was defiled, used, and abused?”
And right at that moment, lightning cracked. Thunder roared. And the sky lit up the Atlantic. In the middle of her cries and the storm raging around her, she heard God say:
“I was this mad.”
And something clicked in her heart. For the first time, she could imagine a God who was not indifferent to her pain—but furious at what had happened to her. A God whose love was so deep that it trembled with righteous anger and grief. A God who had not abandoned her—but felt every bit of her pain with her.
A spiritual director friend once shared about a woman who had experienced deep trauma and pain. She had been asking the hard question many of us have asked: “God, where were You?”
One day on a retreat near the ocean, during a violent thunderstorm, she found herself alone in the chapel crying out to God that same question. As she retells the story, she was in the chapel and found herself all but screaming in anguish above the noise of the storm: “Where were You? Where were you when I was defiled, used, and abused?”
And right at that moment, lightning cracked. Thunder roared. And the sky lit up the Atlantic. In the middle of her cries and the storm raging around her, she heard God say:
“I was this mad.”
And something clicked in her heart. For the first time, she could imagine a God who was not indifferent to her pain—but furious at what had happened to her. A God whose love was so deep that it trembled with righteous anger and grief. A God who had not abandoned her—but felt every bit of her pain with her.
Then Jesus Wept
Continuing in the passage—did you notice? With all the sorrow surrounding Lazarus’ death—with all the wailing and the heavy grief—Jesus doesn’t give a sermon. He doesn’t try to fix or explain. He doesn’t even defend Himself for not being there earlier.
The Bible simply says: Jesus wept.
Just two words. But they carry the full humanity and divinity of our loving God in tears.
He’s not weeping because He doesn’t know what comes next—He already knows He will raise Lazarus. But He still feels the grief. He still shares in the sorrow. Jesus sees Mary’s pain. He hears the cries. And does what love does—He joins her in it.
Continuing in the passage—did you notice? With all the sorrow surrounding Lazarus’ death—with all the wailing and the heavy grief—Jesus doesn’t give a sermon. He doesn’t try to fix or explain. He doesn’t even defend Himself for not being there earlier.
The Bible simply says: Jesus wept.
Just two words. But they carry the full humanity and divinity of our loving God in tears.
He’s not weeping because He doesn’t know what comes next—He already knows He will raise Lazarus. But He still feels the grief. He still shares in the sorrow. Jesus sees Mary’s pain. He hears the cries. And does what love does—He joins her in it.
Healing Begins in His Presence
Before resurrection, before joy, before even hope—Jesus is present. And the truth is, that’s all we really need. We may not get the answer we’re seeking. We may not receive explanations or even resolution. God often doesn’t give details or answer why. Instead, He says, My grace is enough.
You don’t have to heal it on your own. You were never meant to. Healing begins in His presence. Not in pretending it’s not there. Not in simply declaring “it’s all good.” But in letting Jesus come close.
Before resurrection, before joy, before even hope—Jesus is present. And the truth is, that’s all we really need. We may not get the answer we’re seeking. We may not receive explanations or even resolution. God often doesn’t give details or answer why. Instead, He says, My grace is enough.
You don’t have to heal it on your own. You were never meant to. Healing begins in His presence. Not in pretending it’s not there. Not in simply declaring “it’s all good.” But in letting Jesus come close.
A Sacred Invitation to Meet Jesus
So today, you’re going to have that space. You don’t have to be strong. You don’t have to have it all figured out. I’m not asking you to open or unpack anything you aren’t ready to. I’m simply inviting you to say: “Jesus, here’s where it hurts.” And He will come.
Through this series, we’ve been using our holy imaginations to meet Jesus and experience His presence. Before we do that again, I want to share six different images—men and women of different backgrounds, ages, and stories. Each one is captured in a moment of grief, stillness, or quiet comfort—being held or seen by Jesus.
As you view these images, ask yourself:
– Which one speaks to you?
– Which one shows you what your heart may need today?
Let them prepare your heart to meet Jesus—the One who knows your wounds and wants to draw you close in healing love.
So today, you’re going to have that space. You don’t have to be strong. You don’t have to have it all figured out. I’m not asking you to open or unpack anything you aren’t ready to. I’m simply inviting you to say: “Jesus, here’s where it hurts.” And He will come.
Through this series, we’ve been using our holy imaginations to meet Jesus and experience His presence. Before we do that again, I want to share six different images—men and women of different backgrounds, ages, and stories. Each one is captured in a moment of grief, stillness, or quiet comfort—being held or seen by Jesus.
As you view these images, ask yourself:
– Which one speaks to you?
– Which one shows you what your heart may need today?
Let them prepare your heart to meet Jesus—the One who knows your wounds and wants to draw you close in healing love.
Guided Imaginative Prayer
Now, as we enter this next moment in prayer, this is not meant to stir up pain you’re not ready to unpack. It’s simply an invitation to rest in the presence of Jesus. If something surfaces that you want to talk about later, we’re here. But right now, this is a space to breathe and be with Jesus.
Begin by taking a deep breath and gently closing your eyes.
Imagine a place where you feel safe and still. It might be outdoors or indoors… a real place or imagined. Someplace quiet. Someplace peaceful.
What do you notice in that place?
What do you see? What do you hear?
Is there a scent in the air? A gentle breeze? The warmth of light?
Let your body relax as you rest there. Let this be your special place of calm.
Now, become aware that you are not alone. Jesus is here with you.
You may not see His face clearly, but sense His presence—His warmth, His love, His care for you. This is a safe space to simply be with Jesus.
Now gently bring to mind a place in your heart that hurts.
You don’t have to explain it or unpack it. Just be honest. Offer it to Jesus and let Him sit with you in it. You don’t have to talk about it. He knows. Just be in His presence.
And in this quiet space, hear these words—not as a whisper from your imagination, but as the voice of the One who loves you most:
“I see you. I know where it hurts. I feel it with you. And I’m not leaving.”
Breathe in: that love.
Breathe out: whatever you’ve been holding.
Let His presence begin your healing.
Now, as we enter this next moment in prayer, this is not meant to stir up pain you’re not ready to unpack. It’s simply an invitation to rest in the presence of Jesus. If something surfaces that you want to talk about later, we’re here. But right now, this is a space to breathe and be with Jesus.
Begin by taking a deep breath and gently closing your eyes.
Imagine a place where you feel safe and still. It might be outdoors or indoors… a real place or imagined. Someplace quiet. Someplace peaceful.
What do you notice in that place?
What do you see? What do you hear?
Is there a scent in the air? A gentle breeze? The warmth of light?
Let your body relax as you rest there. Let this be your special place of calm.
Now, become aware that you are not alone. Jesus is here with you.
You may not see His face clearly, but sense His presence—His warmth, His love, His care for you. This is a safe space to simply be with Jesus.
Now gently bring to mind a place in your heart that hurts.
You don’t have to explain it or unpack it. Just be honest. Offer it to Jesus and let Him sit with you in it. You don’t have to talk about it. He knows. Just be in His presence.
And in this quiet space, hear these words—not as a whisper from your imagination, but as the voice of the One who loves you most:
“I see you. I know where it hurts. I feel it with you. And I’m not leaving.”
Breathe in: that love.
Breathe out: whatever you’ve been holding.
Let His presence begin your healing.
Closing Reflections & A Prayer
Friends, that was just the beginning of a healing practice you can return to again and again. Jesus is always ready and available—to be with you, to share with you, and to begin healing the wounds of your heart with His love.
The circumstances may not change this morning, but maybe the healing some of us need most is to know that we are deeply loved by someone who will never leave us, never harm us, never turn away.
Earlier in the service, we heard our men’s chorus sing the song “Mama.” For many of us, it stirred deep gratitude—and for others, maybe grief or longing. But there’s more in those lyrics we can take with us today. If you revisit each line, you’ll see a reflection of the kind of love Jesus has for us.
“Loving you is like food to my soul…”
“Your love is like tears from the stars…”
It was written about a mother’s love. But everything true and beautiful in those words—Jesus embodies perfectly. He is the One who has never failed you. The One who weeps with you, stays with you, heals you.
Friends, that was just the beginning of a healing practice you can return to again and again. Jesus is always ready and available—to be with you, to share with you, and to begin healing the wounds of your heart with His love.
The circumstances may not change this morning, but maybe the healing some of us need most is to know that we are deeply loved by someone who will never leave us, never harm us, never turn away.
Earlier in the service, we heard our men’s chorus sing the song “Mama.” For many of us, it stirred deep gratitude—and for others, maybe grief or longing. But there’s more in those lyrics we can take with us today. If you revisit each line, you’ll see a reflection of the kind of love Jesus has for us.
“Loving you is like food to my soul…”
“Your love is like tears from the stars…”
It was written about a mother’s love. But everything true and beautiful in those words—Jesus embodies perfectly. He is the One who has never failed you. The One who weeps with you, stays with you, heals you.
Scriptures of Comfort
Psalm 56:8 – “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle.”
Psalm 147:3 – “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”
Psalm 34:18 – “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
Psalm 56:8 – “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle.”
Psalm 147:3 – “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”
Psalm 34:18 – “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
The Gift of Oil
As you leave today, we want to place something in your hands—a small bottle of anointing oil for all the women. This is our gift to you.
Throughout Scripture, oil has been a symbol of healing, of consecration, of the Spirit of God poured out. There’s nothing magical about it—but it is sacred when used as a reminder that Jesus is your healing, and that His presence goes with you.
You may choose to use this oil to pray over yourself, or someone you love, or simply keep it as a touchstone of God’s love that never leaves.
I’m reminded of a story one of our young adults shared:
“When I was just a young boy, I remember my mother—full of faith and fire—taking whatever cooking oil she could find. With a trembling hand and a praying heart, she would anoint my head… and the heads of my brothers. She would declare protection, speak life, and call on the name of Jesus to cover us as we stepped out into the world.”
That was her altar. Her act of faith.
Family, that same Spirit of faith covers us now.
So as you receive this oil, may you carry that same hope—into your home, your prayers, your healing.
As you leave today, we want to place something in your hands—a small bottle of anointing oil for all the women. This is our gift to you.
Throughout Scripture, oil has been a symbol of healing, of consecration, of the Spirit of God poured out. There’s nothing magical about it—but it is sacred when used as a reminder that Jesus is your healing, and that His presence goes with you.
You may choose to use this oil to pray over yourself, or someone you love, or simply keep it as a touchstone of God’s love that never leaves.
I’m reminded of a story one of our young adults shared:
“When I was just a young boy, I remember my mother—full of faith and fire—taking whatever cooking oil she could find. With a trembling hand and a praying heart, she would anoint my head… and the heads of my brothers. She would declare protection, speak life, and call on the name of Jesus to cover us as we stepped out into the world.”
That was her altar. Her act of faith.
Family, that same Spirit of faith covers us now.
So as you receive this oil, may you carry that same hope—into your home, your prayers, your healing.
A Prayer of Blessing
Lord Jesus,
You are the Healer of hearts—
the One who stays, who weeps, who restores.
As this oil is received today,
may it be a touchpoint of Your presence.
A sign of healing love,
a reminder that You are near.
Let it carry peace to the weary,
comfort to the grieving,
and hope to every heart that longs for wholeness.
May every woman who receives it know:
She is seen.
She is held.
She is deeply, fully, faithfully loved.
And may Your Spirit rest on every hand it touches,
and linger in every place it is shared.
In Your holy and healing name, Amen.
Lord Jesus,
You are the Healer of hearts—
the One who stays, who weeps, who restores.
As this oil is received today,
may it be a touchpoint of Your presence.
A sign of healing love,
a reminder that You are near.
Let it carry peace to the weary,
comfort to the grieving,
and hope to every heart that longs for wholeness.
May every woman who receives it know:
She is seen.
She is held.
She is deeply, fully, faithfully loved.
And may Your Spirit rest on every hand it touches,
and linger in every place it is shared.
In Your holy and healing name, Amen.
Posted in Journey to Healing
Posted in Jesus Weeps, Healing and Restoration, John 11, Grief and Compassion, Mother’s Day Sermon, Christ’s Presence in Pain, Emotional Healing, imaginative prayer, Anointing Oil, Trusting God in Suffering, Heartache and Hope, Deeply Loved, Comfort in Loss, Mourning with Jesus, Faith and Emotions, Spiritual Reflection, God’s Empathy, Rest for the Wounded
Posted in Jesus Weeps, Healing and Restoration, John 11, Grief and Compassion, Mother’s Day Sermon, Christ’s Presence in Pain, Emotional Healing, imaginative prayer, Anointing Oil, Trusting God in Suffering, Heartache and Hope, Deeply Loved, Comfort in Loss, Mourning with Jesus, Faith and Emotions, Spiritual Reflection, God’s Empathy, Rest for the Wounded
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