Journey to Healing - Healing Relationships Begins In His Presence

Quick Glance: For Your Heart Today

Some of our deepest wounds come from relationships—what was said, what wasn’t, what was done, or what never got resolved. But healing doesn’t begin by fixing someone else or forcing reconciliation. It begins with Jesus. It begins in His presence—where we are seen, known, and loved, even in our brokenness. The story of Zacchaeus invites us to reflect on how Jesus meets us where we are and makes space for healing to begin in our hearts and our relationships.

3 Takeaways

1. Healing begins in His presence—not by rehashing who was right or wrong, but by receiving His love.—not by rehashing who was right or wrong, but by receiving His love.
2. Jesus sees, knows and loves you before you’ve done anything to “make things right.”
3. Relational healing overflows into our actions and attitudes, restoring what was broken—starting with us.

If You Only Have a Moment
Even if you can’t read the full message today, pause here and pray:

“Jesus, I bring you this ache between us.
Help me stop trying to fix everything and just rest in Your presence.
Begin healing in me—even if nothing else changes. Amen.”
Breath Prayer

Inhale: “You see me, Lord.”
Exhale: “Begin your healing in me.”

Estimated Reading Time: 14–16 minutes

Healing Relationship in His Presence
Good morning, family. It’s been several decades now, and as a school administrator, spiritual director, and pastor, I’ve seen a lot when it comes to relationships. And the struggle for what it really means to love—as the song says—is real. I’ve been with people hurting over failed friendships, families grieving chasms they don’t know how to bridge, and spouses aching from disconnection or words that can’t be taken back. I believe so many of these people wanted reconciliation but didn’t know where—or how—to begin.

I’ve learned that hurting relationships don’t always look like blow-ups or breakups. Sometimes they look like silence. Or avoidance. Sometimes the wound isn’t obvious, but the pain is deep and real. And I’ve also learned truth can be on both sides. Because in many of the stories I hear, it’s not just one person who’s hurting. Both people are hurting. And often, both have contributed to the hurt. So, sisters and brothers, I walk gently here. Because the healing of relationships is tender and fragile work.

But I also walk with hope—because healing is possible. Not because we find the perfect words or solution, but because Jesus steps into discord spaces, right in the middle of the relational pain. And in His presence, healing begins.

God’s plan has always been relational. Before there was pain and disunity in the physical, there was harmony and unity in the eternal. God said, “Let us make humankind in our image.” Not my image, but our image. God is communal—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—and we are made in that same relational image. Which means love, trust, honesty, connection—these aren’t extras. They’re essential to who we are. So when a relationship breaks, something inside us breaks, too. But that doesn’t have to be the end of the story.

As we continue our series Journey to Healing, today’s focus builds on what we’ve already seen: In His presence, Jesus heals our minds with peace. He heals our hearts with comfort. And the same is true for relationships. Healing relationships begins in His presence—not by rehearsing who was right or wrong, not by trying to fix or change someone, but by starting with the One who made us for relationship. In Jesus’ presence, something shifts and healing begins—if we’re open.

In His Presence: When Jesus Sees You

Some of you may remember this story from Sunday School—there was a song about a wee little man and everything—but there’s so much more here than a man in a tree who had Jesus over for dinner. In just ten verses, we find brokenness, courage, grace, repentance, restitution, and healing.

We first meet Zacchaeus, not just by name, but by position. He’s a chief tax collector, which means he’s at the top of the Roman tax collector pyramid. He’s wealthy. Very wealthy. And everyone knows he gained his wealth by taking advantage of his own people. He wasn’t just disliked—he was deeply resented. He was a man with a lot of power, but little love. And yet—he wants to see Jesus.

Maybe he’d heard the stories about Jesus’ healings, teachings, and the crowds that seemed to follow Jesus everywhere. Maybe he was just curious and wanted to catch a glimpse of this man everyone was talking about. Or maybe his heart was seeking something more—something perhaps he wasn’t even aware of.

Whatever his reason to see Jesus, there was a problem. The crowd was thick, and Zacchaeus was short. There was no way he was going to get a good view from anywhere he stood. So he does something bold—even undignified. He runs ahead and climbs a sycamore tree—a wealthy, grown man, hoisting himself into the branches like a child, just to see Jesus.

But here’s the beautiful part: he’s trying to see Jesus—but Jesus sees him. Zacchaeus wasn’t expecting Jesus to stop. I don’t even think he was trying to be seen. But Jesus does stop. Right under that sycamore tree. Jesus looks up. And calls him by name: “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.”: “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.”

Can you imagine the immediate gasps from the crowd? From Zacchaeus even? Jesus not only notices Zacchaeus—He knows him. He calls him by name—Zacchaeus. And here’s what’s interesting and ironic: Zacchaeus’ name means “pure” or “righteous.” A name that likely felt like a bad joke to everyone else, given his profession. But Jesus says his name with no sarcasm. No accusatory shame. Just warmth and love.—Zacchaeus. And here’s what’s interesting and ironic: Zacchaeus’ name means “pure” or “righteous.” A name that likely felt like a bad joke to everyone else, given his profession. But Jesus says his name with no sarcasm. No accusatory shame. Just warmth and love.

Jesus doesn’t focus on our failures. He focuses on our God-given identity and potential. He saw who Zacchaeus was created to be—and accepted him before he did anything to earn it. Because the truth is, we can never earn God’s love. It’s always freely given.. He focuses on our God-given identity and potential. He saw who Zacchaeus was created to be—and accepted him before he did anything to earn it. Because the truth is, we can never earn God’s love. It’s always freely given.

Then Jesus says something even more surprising: “I must stay at your house today.” Now that would be strange even for us today—but in their culture, it was shocking. Radical. And unheard of. Rabbis didn’t invite themselves into people’s homes—and certainly not into the homes of men like Zacchaeus. Hospitality wasn’t just casual dining. It was sacred fellowship. To share a table and break bread together meant, “I want to be with you. I accept you.” And Jesus does this publicly, in front of a crowd that had written Zacchaeus off.

When Healing Overflows into Action

Something was already shifting in Zacchaeus when Jesus stopped, saw him, and called him by name. And that shift was about to be seen. As Jesus announces He’s going to Zacchaeus’ house, the Bible says the crowd grumbles: “He has gone to be the guest of a sinner” (v. 7). They don’t know Zacchaeus is having a Jesus encounter that is already changing him. They only see the man who’s oppressed them—the man they’ve written off.

But in the midst of their grumbling, Zacchaeus stands up and makes a bold declaration: “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount” (v. 8). Now this isn’t PR. Or crowd damage control. It’s repentance. Zacchaeus is a changed and changing man. He isn’t just being generous—he’s making amends. He’s recognizing that his actions have caused harm. That he’s severed relationship with his community. And he’s taking responsibility to make things right.

Under Jewish law, restitution varied depending on the offense. For a voluntary confession to unintentional damage, one was required to repay the amount plus 20% (Leviticus 5:16). If someone was caught in the act of a theft, the payment penalty was double (Exodus 22:4). And for the more egregious thefts—like if someone intentionally stole something essential for one’s livelihood—the repayment was four times the amount or item (Exodus 22:1–4).

That last one, a repayment four times the amount, is what Zacchaeus chooses. No one is making him do this. But in Jesus’ presence, he’s a different man. He identifies with the most serious offense—owning not just his personal gain, but the social and spiritual cost of his actions. Zacchaeus recognizes he had become wealthy not just from his own greed, but by participating in a system that exploited the vulnerable. He wasn’t just rich—he was complicit in creating poverty. That’s why he’s giving to the poor—to make just what was unjust.

In Jesus’ presence, he doesn’t just see himself differently—he sees his relationships differently, too.

This is what healing broken relationships in Jesus’ presence can do. It transforms how we see ourselves. It transforms how we see others. It touches what’s been broken. It invites and initiates forgiveness. And it seeks to restore justice and make things right. Zacchaeus doesn’t redistribute his wealth because he has to. He does it because he wants to. That’s the healing presence of Jesus. others. It touches what’s been broken. It invites and initiates forgiveness. And it seeks to restore justice and make things right. Zacchaeus doesn’t redistribute his wealth because he has to. He does it because he wants to. That’s the healing presence of Jesus.

Then Jesus says this: “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham” (v. 9). Now the verse says Jesus said this to him, but everything about it sounds more like a public declaration—it’s a statement to the grumbling crowd, who has written Zacchaeus off. It’s not just a private affirmation but a public restoration.

In other words, Jesus is saying to the crowd: You called him a sinner. I call him a son. You excluded him, but he still belongs to this family of faith. Jesus names him a son of Abraham—a true heir of God’s covenant promise. What we are witnessing is Zacchaeus being restored to God and restored to the community. and restored to the community.. and restored to the community.

Then Jesus sums it all up by saying: “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost” (v. 10). Zacchaeus was lost—not just spiritually, but relationally. Disconnected from God. Disconnected from his people. But Jesus sought him out. He saw him. He stayed with him. In Jesus’ presence, healing began—vertically and horizontally.

What About Us?

So what does that mean for us this morning? What about healing broken relationships in our lives?
Well, I’m reminded of a man—we’ll call him Jason—who hadn’t spoken to his brother in years. They’d grown up close. Shared a room. Played sports. Dreamed together. But somewhere along the way, tension began to develop. Values shifted. And arguments became more frequent. Then one day—there was a disagreement, a moment of feeling dismissed—and the relationship got stuck right there. There was no big blow-up. Just an uncomfortable distance that widened with time.

Jason never talked about it—not with his family, nor with friends. I know that’s how a lot of men—and some women too—carry pain. Silently. Invisibly. But the pain is still there. Jason didn’t miss the arguments, but he did miss the brotherhood. He missed being known by someone who had known him his whole life. And sharing life together.

Then during a pensive conversation one day he asked, “Do you think he ever thinks about me?” It was a quiet, passing question, but the ache was evident. Relational wounds don’t always shout. Sometimes they just sit there… unspoken… until we realize we’re still hurting.

Now maybe that’s not your story. But broken relationships come in all shapes and sizes.

For some of us, it’s a parent who never fully saw us… a friend who drifted without explanation… a loved one where the connection feels fragile or frayed… or a tension that’s never exploded, but never really healed either.

For others, it may be quieter: a recent disagreement that still stings. A silence that lingers longer than it should. A disconnection you can’t quite name.

And there are deeper aches, too, from the ones who hurt us deeply. The ones we had to leave to survive. The ones who’ve passed—and the apology or closure will never come.

Wherever you find yourself—whatever the shape or depth of that ache—you don’t have to carry it alone.

So what do we do? How do we begin to heal?

We begin where Zacchaeus began—in the presence of Jesus. That’s where healing begins. In His presence, we are seen. In His presence, we are known and loved. And in His presence, the ache of broken relationships gets to breathe a little.

Healing in Jesus’ presence doesn’t erase the past. Nor does it guarantee the outcome we hope for. Forgiveness is a journey. Restoration takes time. And may not come the way we’d like.

But what does begin in Jesus’ presence is this: God’s healing work—in us. And that can change everything.—in us. And that can change everything.

Guided Imaginative Prayer: Healing in His Presence

Now before we go into a few moments of prayer, I want to say some of us carry pain someone else caused. Others carry the weight of knowing we’ve caused pain. And some of us… carry both. Wherever you find yourself—this is a space for healing. Not for figuring it all out or rehashing who’s at fault or trying to fix anything. This time is just about meeting Jesus and letting Him begin His healing work in us.

So, I invite you now into a moment of guided prayer. If you’ve been with us the last few weeks, you know we’ve been engaging in the spiritual practice of imaginative prayer using the sacred gift of our imaginations.

Take a deep breath in… and slowly let it out.
(Pause)

Now picture yourself in your safe space. A place where you’ve met Jesus before. A space that brings peace. If this is your first time, or if nothing comes to mind, imagine a quiet garden, a beach, a porch—somewhere restful.

(Pause)

And as you settle there… notice: Jesus is already with you. He’s here. Feel the warmth of His presence and His deep love for you. Receive His love.

(Pause)

You are seen.
You are known.
You are loved.

(Pause)

Now Jesus gently tells you He’s going to bring someone into this space—someone with whom there is tension… distance… or unspoken pain. This might be someone who hurt you. Or someone you may have hurt. Or someone with whom things were never fully healed. But He tells you, “I’m here.”

Become aware of who Jesus has invited into this space. Don’t force anyone to come to mind—just notice who comes. And notice what emotions rise up in you. Let Jesus hold whatever you’re feeling. He is with you.

(Pause)

Now shift your attention to Jesus. Look at how He is looking at this person. Notice how He looks at them with love. With compassion. With tenderness in the same way He looks at you.

Let Jesus’ gaze shape your own. See the person through Jesus’ eyes. Not to confront them or change them, but simply to see them with Jesus’ eyes.

Now, only if you feel ready, and if you feel so led in your spirit, say one thing—to them—with Jesus still present between you. You might say:

“You hurt me.”
“I miss you.”
“I forgive you.”
“I’m sorry.”
Or simply…
“Jesus, help—I’m not ready.”

Whatever comes—just one phrase. Let it be enough.


(Pause)

Now look back at Jesus. Feel the warmth of His smile as He looks at you with tenderness and compassion. Again, know and feel the truth:

You are seen.
You are known.
You are loved.

And know that Jesus is already at work—His healing has begun.

Take one more deep breath in… and out.
And when you’re ready, gently open your eyes.

Closing

Family, you’ve just taken a sacred step—not by fixing anything, but by entering the presence of Jesus, where healing begins. That’s where it began for Zacchaeus, too. Not with an apology. Not with the restitution. Or even with a meal. It started the moment Jesus looked at him… and called his name… and he entered Jesus’ presence., but by entering the presence of Jesus, where healing begins. That’s where it began for Zacchaeus, too. Not with an apology. Not with the restitution. Or even with a meal. It started the moment Jesus looked at him… and called his name… and he entered Jesus’ presence.

And the same is true for you. Maybe the relationship will change. Maybe it won’t—or at least not yet. But you are being changed. Because when we know we are truly seen, truly known, and truly loved by Jesus… something in us begins to heal.

So Family, let that healing continue. Keep returning to Jesus, because healing begins in His presence.

Let’s pray.