Jesus Tough Ministries

03/30/2026

Matthew 11:2-3. Now, when John heard in prison about the deeds of the Christ he sent word by his disciples and said to Him, are you the one who is to come or shall we look for another? Doesn't this show that God wants to hear from us when we want to doubt Him, when we want to question His plans In our lifel. Jesus said in Matthew 11:10, this is he of whom it is written beyond. I send my Messenger before your face, who will prepare your way before you, we know that John and Jesus knew it who each other were even in the wounds 1 3 90 41 since in those days, Mary rose. And went with haste into the hillo country Together town in Utah and she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth, and when Elizabeth heard the greeting of Mary, the baby leaked in her home and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and it seems to me that John had known in Jesus, the south of Mary, even from the womb went to voices. Doubts in the fact that Jesus was and is also the Son of God, doesn't it show that God wants to hear from us in our doubts in our fears, in our weakest moments when our faith is extinct to in the same way, our father wants to know where our Dallas, he also wants to know if you're angry with him, Matthew 27:46 says about the ninth hour, you just cried out with a loud voice saying yep those words that it's my God, my God forsaken me as me and in a moment, we feel forsaken or betrayed, many of us hesitated to get mad, maybe an anger that steams from my heart from a heartbreak from a person we know loves us, yet they chose to turn away from us as Jesus hung on the cross covered in our sins as the father turned. Away from him because of our sins, because of the fact that God, the father in his rights. And his holiness cannot be in the presence. It was in that moment, Jesus cried out to our heavenly father, why God, why 15, for you did not receive this period of slavery to fall back into fear but you have received this period of adoption as sons by whom we cry about, my father, if we are sons. Of God, by the above Christ, then shouldn't we voice our pains and anger with God, just as his holy, only begotten son did that day. If we're trying to be more like needed, then doesn't it go without saying that we should also voice our feelings to God, the father? Don't these moments show that God wants page close enough relationship with us that we will be comfortable in sharing. Power with him as we open up the share, how hard with him.We allow him in to give us comfort to give us peace with allowing him to respond.And then mark 111, then a voice came from heaven.You are my beloved son with you.I am well pleased, isn't this the responsibility we all pushed for only in voicing our thoughts and our feelings to God, is he able to carry us through and to do us heal instead of hanging on to a bitterness that for many of us.Sadly, separates us from God.So the next time you are upset with God or you just to join the baptists and Jesus Christ's voice, these issues with the father.So too , he wants us to voice ours with him in order to carry us through nothing, just as Jesus preaches on Dog over us in our moments of doubt , if we will only voice our worries to Him.

03/26/2026

03/26/2026

Jesus wept

03/19/2026

We all go through pain in this life.
Pain leaves scars. Some are visible—etched into our skin by injury or time. Others run deeper, hidden beneath the surface—emotional wounds, spiritual fractures, quiet hurts we carry that no one else can see. These scars shape us. They remind us of what we’ve endured, what we’ve lost, what we’ve survived.
But in the midst of all that pain, there is a truth we can hold onto:
Jesus Christ understands our scars.
Not from a distance. Not as an observer. But personally—intimately—because He has lived through pain Himself.
We can walk through this life with a strange kind of peace, knowing that the Son of God has felt what we feel. He has known sorrow. He has known rejection. He has known suffering in its deepest forms. And even now, He does not stand far off from our pain—He meets us in it.
It was love that brought Him here.
Love that caused Him to step into a broken world. Love that led Him to live as a man, to rely on God the Father, to walk through a life filled with scorn, persecution, and hatred—yet still respond with compassion, grace, and unwavering mercy.
He didn’t just come to teach us how to live.
He came to show us how to suffer—and still love.
There were moments when His heart broke right in front of us.
As He looked over the city of Jerusalem, a people He longed to gather and protect, He cried out, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem… how often I wanted to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but you were not willing.” In that moment, we see the pain of rejection—not from strangers, but from those He loved most. The ache of offering love and having it refused.
He understands that pain.
And then there was the tomb of Lazarus.
Standing among grieving friends, surrounded by sorrow and loss, Jesus didn’t hold Himself above the moment. He didn’t remain distant from their grief. Instead, the shortest verse in Scripture carries one of the heaviest truths:
Jesus wept.
He felt the weight of death. He mourned the loss. He entered into the grief fully, just as we do when we lose someone we love. The Son of God stood there with tears in His eyes.
He understands that pain too.
In the Garden of Gethsemane, the weight became unbearable.
Scripture tells us He was in agony. His prayers grew more intense. His sweat became like drops of blood falling to the ground. This wasn’t just fear of physical suffering—this was the crushing weight of everything He was about to carry. The sin. The separation. The cost.
He knew what was coming.
And still, He stayed.
Then came betrayal.
One of His own—someone who had walked beside Him, learned from Him, shared life with Him—approached Him not with a weapon, but with a kiss. And Jesus responded with words that echo with heartbreak:
“Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?”
Betrayal cuts deep. It always does. Especially when it comes from someone close.
Jesus understands that pain.
What followed was relentless.
He was mocked. Beaten. Blindfolded and struck. They laughed at Him. Spat on Him. Challenged Him to prove Himself while they inflicted suffering upon Him. Lies were told about Him. Accusations were thrown at Him. He was condemned though He was innocent.
And still—He endured.
They placed a crown of thorns on His head, pressing it down as blood ran from His brow. They clothed Him in purple, not in honor, but in mockery, calling out, “Hail, King of the Jews!” as they struck Him again and again.
Then they nailed Him to a cross.
This was not symbolic pain. This was real. Physical. Agonizing. Every breath a struggle. Every moment a wave of suffering. His body, broken. His blood, poured out.
He endured all of it.
For us.
Because He loves us.
But perhaps the deepest pain of all came in a moment that still shakes the soul to read:
“My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”
In that cry, we hear something familiar.
We hear the questions we’ve asked. The confusion we’ve felt. The moments when life collapses around us and we wonder where God is.
In that moment, Jesus experienced the weight of separation—the burden of sin placed fully upon Him. The One who was without sin took on all of ours. The distance we feel when we walk away from God… He stepped into that darkness on our behalf.
He understands that pain too.
Every kind of pain we carry—emotional, physical, spiritual—Jesus has stepped into it.
He has felt it.
He has endured it.
Hebrews tells us to consider Him, who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, so that we do not grow weary or lose heart. Because when we look at His suffering, we realize something powerful:
He never asks us to endure anything He Himself has not already faced.
The difference is this—He was innocent.
We are not.
The separation we feel from God often comes from our own choices, our own sin, our own desire to walk apart from Him. But Jesus… He took that separation upon Himself willingly. He carried what was never His to carry.
He lived the life we could not live. He endured the punishment we deserved. He faced the separation so that we could be restored.
This was always the plan.
Even long before the cross, it was spoken of. The pain. The suffering. The sacrifice. The cost of redemption. And Jesus stepped into that plan fully, knowing exactly what it would require.
Why?
Because God loves us.
Not in a distant, abstract way—but in a personal, sacrificial, overwhelming way. A love that would send His only Son into a world that would reject Him. A love that would allow Him to suffer, to bleed, to die—so that we could be healed, restored, and brought back into relationship with Him.
So when we say that Jesus understands our scars…
We don’t mean that lightly.
We mean that He wears them too.
Every wound you carry. Every hurt you’ve buried. Every moment of grief, anger, confusion, or loneliness—
He has been there.
And because of that, you are never alone in your pain.
Not now.
Not ever.

03/18/2026

The Storm That Came Out of Nowhere
Jesus Asleep in the Boat
Scripture: Gospel of Mark 4:35–41
By the time evening came, it had been a long day.
Crowds had followed Jesus.
Thousands had been fed.
People had been healed.
Questions had been asked from every direction.
It had been the kind of day that drains a person completely.
So when it was finally time to leave, Jesus of Nazareth and His disciples climbed into a boat to cross the Sea of Galilee.
And something simple happened.
Jesus fell asleep.
That small detail tells us something powerful.
He was exhausted.
Sometimes people imagine Jesus walking through life untouched by the weight of the world. But the Scriptures show something different.
Jesus knew what it felt like to be worn out.
To reach the point where the body simply shuts down and sleep takes over.
He fell asleep right there in the boat.
But while He slept, the wind began to rise.
Storms on the Sea of Galilee can come quickly. One moment the water is calm, and the next moment the wind rushes down from the hills and turns the water violent.
That night, one of those storms appeared.
The waves began crashing into the boat.
Water poured over the sides.
The boat started filling.
These were not inexperienced men. Some of the disciples had spent their lives fishing on this lake. They knew storms.
And yet this one frightened them.
Meanwhile, in the front of the boat, Jesus was still asleep.
Finally the disciples shook Him awake.
“Teacher, don’t you care that we are about to drown?”
You can almost hear the fear in their voices.
Fear does that to people.
When danger shows up suddenly, the mind races.
The heart pounds.
Thoughts jump to the worst possible ending.
Many people know that feeling.
A sudden phone call from the hospital.
A police officer knocking on the door.
A doctor saying words no one wants to hear.
Sometimes life throws storms at us that we never saw coming.
And in those moments people panic.
Some people lash out in anger.
Some people shut down in fear.
Some people try to run from the feeling altogether.
Many addicts know that moment well.
The storm inside their heart feels so strong that they reach for something to quiet it.
A drink.
A pill.
A hit.
Anything to calm the waves.
But Jesus stood up in that boat.
He spoke to the wind.
He spoke to the waves.
“Peace. Be still.”
And suddenly the storm stopped.
The wind died.
The waves settled.
The lake became calm again.
Then Jesus turned and looked at His disciples.
And He asked them a question.
“Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”
Those words might sound hard at first.
But they also reveal something deeper.
Jesus understood how quickly fear can take over a human heart.
He knew the shock of sudden storms.
He knew how fast panic rises when people feel like they are losing control.
He had just watched it happen.
The disciples were not evil men.
They were frightened men.
And Jesus understood that fear.
Because storms do not always come slowly.
Sometimes they crash into life without warning.
A tragedy.
A loss.
A crisis that seems unnecessary and unfair.
And when that happens, people often react before they can think.
Faith disappears for a moment.
Fear takes its place.
But the story reminds us of something important.
Even when fear shakes a person’s faith…
Even when panic takes over…
Even when someone cries out in desperation…
Jesus is still in the boat.
And He understands the storm

Bread in the Middle of Grief
The Feeding of the Five Thousand
Scripture: Gospel of Matthew 14:13–21
After hearing the news about John the Baptist, Jesus tried to step away.
The Scriptures say He went off by boat to a quiet place.
Sometimes a person needs that.
A moment to breathe.
A moment to think.
A moment to let the heart catch up with the pain.
Most people understand that kind of moment.
When someone dies suddenly, the mind feels cloudy. The heart feels heavy. A person may want to sit alone somewhere and just be still for a while.
Jesus sought that quiet place.
But the crowds saw where He was going.
And they followed Him.
They came walking along the shore from the towns, gathering as they went. By the time Jesus stepped onto the land, there were thousands of people waiting.
Imagine that moment.
Jesus had just heard about the violent death of someone who had been part of His life since before He was born.
He had tried to find a quiet place.
But instead of silence, there was a crowd.
Thousands of people.
People with sickness.
People with questions.
People with needs.
It would have been easy to turn them away.
Most people would understand that.
A man grieving a loss might say, “Not today.”
A person overwhelmed with pain might shut the door and tell the world to come back later.
But the Scriptures say something powerful.
When Jesus saw the crowd, He had compassion on them.
Even in the middle of grief, His heart still saw their need.
And that says something important about the scars Jesus came to understand.
He understood what it felt like when life becomes overwhelming.
When grief and responsibility collide.
When everything seems to come at once.
Many people who struggle with addiction know that moment.
Life piles up.
Loss.
Stress.
Pressure.
Responsibilities.
All arriving at the same time.
And in that moment, the mind looks for a way out.
A drink.
A pill.
A needle.
Something to quiet the storm inside.
But Jesus did something different in that moment.
He turned toward the people instead of running from them.
As the day went on, the crowd grew hungry.
The disciples looked around and saw a problem.
Thousands of people in a lonely place with nothing to eat.
They told Jesus it would be better to send the crowd away so they could find food in the nearby villages.
But Jesus answered them with words that must have surprised them.
“You give them something to eat.”
The disciples looked around again.
All they could find was a small boy with five loaves of bread and two fish.
That was not nearly enough for thousands of people.
But Jesus took the bread.
He looked up toward heaven.
He blessed it.
Then He began breaking the bread and giving it to the disciples, who passed it through the crowd.
And somehow the bread kept coming.
The fish kept coming.
Row after row of people were fed.
Five thousand men, not even counting the women and children.
When everyone had eaten, the disciples gathered the leftovers.
Twelve baskets full.
In a moment that could have been filled with grief and anger and exhaustion, Jesus fed thousands.
That does not mean His grief was gone.
It means that even in the middle of grief, compassion still lived in His heart.
And that matters for people today.
Because many people have stood in that same place.
A place where grief, pressure, and responsibility all arrive at once.
Some run from it.
Some numb it.
Some try to escape it.
But the story reminds us that Jesus understands what that moment feels like.
He has stood in that storm of emotion too.
And even there, He showed that compassion is still possible.
Even when the heart is hurting.

When Grief Comes All at Once
The Death of John the Baptist
Scripture: Gospel of Matthew 14:1–12
Some pain in life comes slowly.
A sickness that lasts for years.
A long goodbye beside a hospital bed.
But some pain comes suddenly.
A phone call in the middle of the night.
A knock on the door.
News that leaves a person standing still, trying to understand what just happened.
A car wreck.
A violent crime.
A drug overdose.
One moment someone is alive, and the next moment they are gone.
Those kinds of moments leave deep scars.
One day, news like that reached Jesus of Nazareth.
The message was about John the Baptist.
John had been arrested by Herod Antipas because he had spoken out against the ruler’s sinful life. John had never been afraid to tell the truth, even when the truth made powerful people angry.
Then one night, during a feast at Herod’s palace, a foolish promise was made in front of a crowd. Pride took over. The king did not want to look weak in front of his guests.
And so a terrible order was given.
John the Baptist was executed in his prison cell.
His head was brought into the banquet hall on a platter.
Just like that, the life of a great prophet was gone.
For Jesus, this was not just news about a preacher who had died.
John had been part of His life from the very beginning.
Long before crowds gathered around them…
Long before miracles were seen…
Even before they were born…
Their lives had already crossed paths.
When Mary visited her cousin Elizabeth, the Scriptures say the baby inside Elizabeth’s womb leaped with joy.
That baby was John.
From the very start, their lives were connected.
Years later, John would stand beside the Jordan River calling people to turn their lives around. And it was John who baptized Jesus in the water.
John pointed people toward Jesus and said that the One they had been waiting for had finally come.
So when the message came that John had been killed, it was not just the loss of a prophet.
It was the loss of someone who had been part of Jesus’ life for as long as He could remember.
The Scriptures say that when Jesus heard the news, He withdrew to a lonely place.
He stepped away.
That tells us something important.
Jesus understood grief.
He understood the shock that comes when someone is taken suddenly.
But grief does not always come at a quiet time in life.
Sometimes the world keeps moving.
Sometimes the pressure keeps building.
Right after this moment, the disciples returned from their mission. They had stories to tell. Crowds began gathering again, hoping to see Jesus.
Needs were everywhere.
Life did not slow down.
And moments like that can overwhelm a person.
Grief.
Pressure.
Responsibility.
Exhaustion.
All arriving at the same time.
When that happens, some people try to escape.
Many addicts know that moment well.
The pain feels too heavy, and the mind begins whispering that a drink, a pill, or a hit might make the pressure go away for a while.
Sometimes the pain turns into anger instead.
A person snaps at people. Gets irritated easily. The smallest thing can light a fire inside them.
But often that anger is not really about the small problem in front of them.
It is about the hurt underneath.
The loss.
The grief.
The questions that have no answers.
Jesus understood that kind of moment.
He knew what it felt like to carry grief while the world kept demanding more.
And that means when someone today is standing under that same weight — when grief and pressure and anger all collide in the same heart — they are not standing in a place Jesus does not understand.
He has stood there too.

03/17/2026

Chapter 10: The Woman at the Well
Scripture:
Gospel of John 4:1–42
Chapter
Some scars are not just personal.
They are passed down.
Taught.
Reinforced over generations.
They live in the space between people—
in the way we look at each other,
the way we avoid each other,
the way we decide who belongs… and who doesn’t.
This is where Jesus meets the woman at the well.
He was traveling through Samaria—a place most Jews avoided. Not because it was dangerous, but because of something deeper:
Hatred.
Jews and Samaritans did not associate with one another. The divide was rooted in history, culture, and belief—but over time, it became something else.
Prejudice.
Bias.
A learned rejection of one another.
“Then cometh He to a city of Samaria… Jesus therefore, being wearied with His journey, sat thus on the well… There cometh a woman of Samaria to draw water: Jesus saith unto her, Give Me to drink.”
— Gospel of John 4:5–7
Even this moment breaks barriers.
A Jewish man speaking to a Samaritan woman.
A teacher speaking to someone society would overlook.
A moment that goes against everything cultural expectation had built.
And she notices it immediately.
“How is it that Thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria? for the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans.”
— Gospel of John 4:9
You can hear it in her voice:
Surprise.
Caution.
Years of lived experience.
She had learned what people think of her.
Not just because of where she was from—but because of who she was. Her past. Her relationships. Her life choices.
She carried multiple layers of scars:
Cultural rejection
Social judgment
Personal shame
And those scars do something over time—they shape how you expect to be treated. They build walls. They create distance. They whisper:
Don’t expect kindness.
Don’t expect acceptance.
Don’t expect anything different.
But Jesus speaks anyway.
Not with judgment.
Not with distance.
But with presence.
“Jesus answered and said unto her, If thou knewest the gift of God… thou wouldest have asked of Him, and He would have given thee living water.”
— Gospel of John 4:10
He doesn’t ignore her past—He acknowledges it.
“For thou hast had five husbands; and he whom thou now hast is not thy husband…”
— Gospel of John 4:18
But notice the difference:
He tells the truth—without condemnation.
That alone breaks something open.
Because one of the deepest human scars is this:
Being known… and still being accepted.
In a world filled with prejudice, hatred, and division, people are often reduced to categories:
Race.
Background.
Reputation.
History.
And once labeled, it’s hard to escape.
That’s the scar of prejudice:
Being judged before you speak
Being rejected without being known
Carrying the weight of someone else’s assumptions
Jesus steps directly into that space.
He crosses the line others refuse to cross.
He speaks where others stay silent.
He connects where others divide.
And in doing so, He reveals something powerful:
The hatred that divides people is often empty—built on fear, misunderstanding, and tradition rather than truth.
And He feels that.
He understands what it’s like to walk into spaces where tension already exists… where people are already divided… where assumptions are already made.
And instead of avoiding it—
He engages it.
The woman came to the well alone.
But she didn’t leave the same.
“The woman then left her waterpot, and went her way into the city, and saith to the men, Come, see a man, which told me all things that ever I did: is not this the Christ?”
— Gospel of John 4:28–29
Something changed.
The shame.
The isolation.
The expectation of rejection.
All of it was challenged in one conversation.
This chapter reveals the scars of prejudice and division:
The pain of being judged by where you come from
The exhaustion of carrying a reputation
The loneliness created by social and cultural barriers
The quiet hope that maybe… someone will see you differently
Jesus didn’t just see her.
He understood her.
And because He did, He understands every person who has ever felt the weight of prejudice, rejection, or being labeled before being known.
He understands the damage caused by hatred.
And He shows that it can be broken—not by force, but by truth, presence, and connection.

03/13/2026

When Grief Comes All at Once
The Death of John the Baptist
Scripture: Gospel of Matthew 14:1–12
Some pain in life comes slowly.
A sickness that lasts for years.
A long goodbye beside a hospital bed.
But some pain comes suddenly.
A phone call in the middle of the night.
A knock on the door.
News that leaves a person standing still, trying to understand what just happened.
A car wreck.
A violent crime.
A drug overdose.
One moment someone is alive, and the next moment they are gone.
Those kinds of moments leave deep scars.
One day, news like that reached Jesus of Nazareth.
The message was about John the Baptist.
John had been arrested by Herod Antipas because he had spoken out against the ruler’s sinful life. John had never been afraid to tell the truth, even when the truth made powerful people angry.
Then one night, during a feast at Herod’s palace, a foolish promise was made in front of a crowd. Pride took over. The king did not want to look weak in front of his guests.
And so a terrible order was given.
John the Baptist was executed in his prison cell.
His head was brought into the banquet hall on a platter.
Just like that, the life of a great prophet was gone.
For Jesus, this was not just news about a preacher who had died.
John had been part of His life from the very beginning.
Long before crowds gathered around them…
Long before miracles were seen…
Even before they were born…
Their lives had already crossed paths.
When Mary visited her cousin Elizabeth, the Scriptures say the baby inside Elizabeth’s womb leaped with joy.
That baby was John.
From the very start, their lives were connected.
Years later, John would stand beside the Jordan River calling people to turn their lives around. And it was John who baptized Jesus in the water.
John pointed people toward Jesus and said that the One they had been waiting for had finally come.
So when the message came that John had been killed, it was not just the loss of a prophet.
It was the loss of someone who had been part of Jesus’ life for as long as He could remember.
The Scriptures say that when Jesus heard the news, He withdrew to a lonely place.
He stepped away.
That tells us something important.
Jesus understood grief.
He understood the shock that comes when someone is taken suddenly.
But grief does not always come at a quiet time in life.
Sometimes the world keeps moving.
Sometimes the pressure keeps building.
Right after this moment, the disciples returned from their mission. They had stories to tell. Crowds began gathering again, hoping to see Jesus.
Needs were everywhere.
Life did not slow down.
And moments like that can overwhelm a person.
Grief.
Pressure.
Responsibility.
Exhaustion.
All arriving at the same time.
When that happens, some people try to escape.
Many addicts know that moment well.
The pain feels too heavy, and the mind begins whispering that a drink, a pill, or a hit might make the pressure go away for a while.
Sometimes the pain turns into anger instead.
A person snaps at people. Gets irritated easily. The smallest thing can light a fire inside them.
But often that anger is not really about the small problem in front of them.
It is about the hurt underneath.
The loss.
The grief.
The questions that have no answers.
Jesus understood that kind of moment.
He knew what it felt like to carry grief while the world kept demanding more.
And that means when someone today is standing under that same weight — when grief and pressure and anger all collide in the same heart — they are not standing in a place Jesus does not understand.
He has stood there too.