Discernment and Spiritual
Guidance
 to Jesus, My Lord, My
God, My All
The
excerpts below show how a visionary/locutionist
struggles with discernment of spirits and
messages. This person is writing during a crucial
time in her life when her gifts have her confused
and wondering why she has been singled out by God
to receive them.
Today I finally
finished reading St. John of the Cross’s Dark
Night of the Soul. It was very
insightful, and I have received many answers to
many questions I have had. I sincerely
thank St. John for the help! There were
several ideas expressed that were truly eye
opening for me. Of these, I have excerpts
as follows:
As
these beginners feel themselves
to be very fervent and diligent
in spiritual things and devout
exercises… often comes…
a certain kind of secret pride,
whence they come to have some
degree of satisfaction with their
works and with themselves. [1]
I think this can
be one of the most dangerous, subtle faults that
can erode away at our spiritual progress.
It taints our good works, making our intentions
less pure. All acts of love and works of
mercy must be selfless and not for our own
glory. And therein lies the danger,
allowing the devil more power in our daily
actions. The sin of pride may not always be
as obvious as I once thought. I think it is
much easier to fall into pride than we realize
sometimes; seeking recognition as a motive for
good actions hinders the graces received by doing
such deeds. Intent and motive can be the
deciding factors. It never really was so
obvious to me as it is now that I have read the
words of St. John of the Cross. I must
constantly strive for purity of intent—for
doing for others for their own good and the glory
of God, with no thought to myself. Humility
must be learned and practiced until it becomes
automatic. I try, but sometimes fail at
this. At least I recognize my sin now,
rather than going on under mistaken impressions
of my own goodness.
I understand
what St. John means by “the darkness”
now. The closer to God, the more Light
shines upon me, bringing out my inadequacies and
darkness. My imperfections become more
visible and obvious to me. So much so at
times, that it can be difficult to see any good
at all in me, leaving me in total darkness.
It is about perspective.
But I also
believe this is necessary for my purification,
however painful it is to me. I must be made
aware so I can make the changes in my life,
otherwise I am complacent and disillusioned into
thinking my progress is near completion.
Nothing could be further from the truth! I
am a work in progress; and as long as I listen
to God, try to change, ask for His
mercy and forgiveness, and allow love to
guide me, maybe then I can clean out all the
cobwebs in my soul. I can scour off the sin
and be able to reflect God’s Light more
brightly.
…As
they progress in humility, the
more do they realize how much God
deserves of them, and how little
is all that they do for His sake;
and thus, the more they do, the
less they are satisfied. [2]
I have
discovered that the easiest way for me to realize
my “smallness” in action is to
contemplate the suffering and passion of Our
Lord. How truly cruel we can be! How
truly loving He is! No matter how much
suffering I do, it cannot compare to even one of
His Sacred Wounds. It makes my pain easier
to bear, and I am more appreciative of Him.
They
have no desire to speak of the
things that they do, because they
think so little of them that they
are ashamed to speak of them even
to their spiritual masters, since
they seem to them to be things
that merit not being spoken of.
[3]
I am struggling
with this a lot right now. All I have read
makes me feel I should speak to my pastor for
spiritual direction, but I fear I am in danger of
drawing too much attention to myself or putting
too much emphasis on my experiences. I know
from talking to others that I am experiencing
some out-of-the-ordinary things, but….
I just think it may be a bit presumptuous to
assume I am being singled out for anything.
At the same time, I need guidance for
discernment. And so I remain confused, at
least for now, and I must remember that “God
leads into the dark night those whom He desires
to purify from all these imperfections so that He
may bring them farther onward.” [4]
St. John of the
Cross further states:
…True
devotion must issue from the
heart…. however greatly the
soul itself labours, it cannot
actively purify itself so as to
be in the least degree prepared
for the Divine union of
perfection of love, if God takes
not its hand and purges it not in
that dark fire. [5]
There are two
imperfections that can befall beginners in the
spiritual journey. St. John describes these
situations well:
…They
become irritated at the sins of
others, and keep watch on those
others with a sort of uneasy
zeal. At times the impulse
comes to them to reprove them
angrily, and occasionally they go
so far as to indulge it and set
themselves up as masters of
virtue. All this is
contrary to spiritual meekness.
[6]
Apparently there
is a strong temptation to judge others as we
become more aware of sin and are more able to
recognize it in every form. Obvious sin
just about anyone can discern. I am
concerned more with what I call the
“sneaky” sins. “Sneaky”
sins involve what lies beneath our actions, like
motive and intention. It is these deep,
underlying tendencies that are the most invisible
to us, and as we become aware of these things in
ourselves, it becomes easier to notice them in
others. I am a firm believer that nearly
all sin is rooted in pride. It is labeled
as one of the seven deadly sins for good
reason. We are lusty, greedy, and even
gluttonous because of pure selfishness.
When we break any of the Ten Commandments, we do
so out of self-importance. Pride can hide
so deep within ourselves that we cannot see
it.
There
are others who are vexed with
themselves when they observe
their own imperfectness, and
display an impatience that is not
humility. [7]
I surmise that
there is a self-love and acceptance of my
weaknesses that must exist. And if it does not
exist, I must learn to accept my imperfections.
Total honesty with self can avoid the trappings
of pride. It is easier to work on these
things when they are acknowledged. Be
gentle, but persistent.
God, in His
infinite mercy, forgives us; and He wants us to
forgive ourselves for all our weaknesses and
sins.So why then is it so hard for us to accept
and love ourselves as we truly are? We are
made in His image as well as made human. He
knows we are imperfect.
Why then are we
so caught up with being perfect, when such a
state can only occur when He purifies us by His
grace and mercy? It must be because our
human definition of perfection is inadequate or
simply wrong. I have been a perfectionist
most of my life. I always felt that if
something was worth doing at all, it was worth
doing correctly. And it had to be done
right the very first time. Who’s
definition of “right” was I going by
anyway? More often than not, it was a
definition that I had made up for me. I
lived my life by my own standards and
expectations of myself. I knew God had
given me talents and intelligence, and I was
going to push them to the maximum. All I
really attained in the end, was frustration and
depression. And I now know it is because of
my pride.
I have since
learned that I must be a little more
understanding of my limitations. It is not
an easy thing to let go of pride and be
humbled. It is painful to acknowledge that
there are some things that I can’t do as
well as others, or that I can’t do at
all. Just because I may not do something
perfectly, though, does not mean I should not do
it at all. God blessed my brother with a
beautiful singing voice, not me, but I still sing
in Church and to the radio! It is okay for
me to be who I am, who God made me.
…If
charity has any envy, it is a
holy envy, comprising grief at
not having the virtues of others,
yet also joy because others have
them, and delight when others
outstrip us in the service of
God, wherein we ourselves are so
remiss. [8]
Today I am
pensive and reflecting on a multitude of things.
I get this way sometimes, almost bombarded
with thoughts that seem disconnected on the
surface, but are all rooted the same. God
is and should be the center of my
existence. The rest of my life and my very
being should reflect this vital core.
God’s love
transforms us.
How can I reflect God’s compassion?
Love and service are lifetime commitments.
Walking with God keeps us from being deceived.
Love always asks for commitment and sacrifice.
In every hour of every day, God holds us.
Each of us can be the answer to someone’s
prayer.
There is healing in the prayers of a friend.
The power of forgiveness sets us free.
The
contemplation in the dark night St. John
describes causes purgation of the senses and the
spirit.A purgation of the senses involves a loss
of love of worldly things, and real strength
comes from God alone. This makes the
acceptance of physical suffering easier to
bear. At some point, it may become
impossible to experience pleasure in anything
whatsoever.
Spiritual people
suffer very great trials apparently more out of
the fear of God’s abandonment than from loss
of temporal pleasures. This happens when
meditation changes to contemplation.
Meditation and reasoning go hand in hand.
Contemplation involves neither reasoning nor
imagination. Because of the fear of
abandonment—and that no action performed, no
matter how pure, is unworthy—there is the
tendency to try to either overdo or give up
completely.
There are
numerous benefits to persisting through the dark
night once it arrives. “…The soul
learns to commune with God with more respect and
more courtesy.” [9] A more enlightened soul
also emerges, as from knowledge of God, making
our lowliness more apparent, but also
illuminating the greatness and excellence of God.
“For, as well as quenching the desires and
pleasures and attachments of sense, He cleanses
and frees the understanding that it may
understand the truth.” [10]
Knowledge of
self and knowledge of God become clearer.
The soul draws
spiritual humility and recognizes the better
progress of others toward God, and loves them
for it! The judgment of others, as a
tendency, is lost.
Good actions are
done for God’s sake alone, without thought
of the benefit to self.
An extreme
desire to progress appears alongside a fear of
backsliding on the spiritual path toward God.
The soul gains
strength and changes its weaknesses through
difficulties into fortitude.
Meekness toward
self, others, and God becomes the routine.
All envy is gone, other than the desire to
imitate others who are holier.
God gives more
gifts and benefits in contemplation. He
communicates with the soul when it is least
expecting it. And, each time He
communicates, the soul is left even richer and
more enlightened than before.
Those
who have the disposition and
greater strength to suffer, He
purges with greater intensity and
more quickly. But those who
are very weak are kept for a long
time in this night, and these He
purges very gently and with
slight temptations. [11]
The following
passage confuses me. At one point it seems
that the ecstasies and raptures are given to
those “perfect” souls; but at the end
of his statement he implies that these souls do
not have raptures because of the level of
spiritual freedom attained.
…Hence
arise the raptures and trances
and dislocations of the bones
which always happen when the
communications are not purely
spiritual—that is, are not
given to the spirit alone, as are
those of the perfect who are
purified by the second night of
the spirit, and in whom these
raptures and torments of the body
no longer exist, since they are
enjoying liberty of spirit, and
their senses are now neither
clouded nor transported. [12]
St. John’s
second chapter concerns me deeply. I guess
this is the reason for having a priest as
spiritual advisor. I need
discernment. I pray for discernment!
For,
as they find so many and such
abundant spiritual communications
and apprehensions, both in sense
and in spirit, wherein they
oftentimes see imaginary and
spiritual visions, and, as the
devil is apt to take pleasure in
impressing upon the soul…
For
in this state the devil causes
many to believe in vain visions
and false prophecies; and strives
to make them presume that God and
the saints are speaking with
them…. And the devil is also
accustomed, in this state, to
fill them with presumptions and
pride, so that they become
attracted by vanity and
arrogance, and allow themselves
to be seen engaging in outward
acts which appear holy, such as
raptures and other
manifestations. Thus, they become
bold with God, and lose holy
fear, which is the key and
custodian of all the
virtues….[13]
I know that the
closer the soul gets to God, the harder the devil
tempts him and works to destroy the bond. I
have read some of the lives of the saints, and
many have experienced false visions. So, is
there no sure way to avoid or prohibit
this? Apparently not. And I would not
assume to put myself anywhere near the level of
any saint, but if they can not avoid it and could
be deceived in their holiness, what chance do I
have? I find myself in a constant struggle,
trying to determine whether or not I am in need
of a spiritual advisor. Looking closely, I
feel that I could seek one out of vanity, for the
attention, which I want desperately to avoid
also. On the other hand, I don’t want
to be deceived, and I need help discerning.
O Lord, help me
know Your will in this.
…in
some of these souls so many are
the falsehoods and deceits which
tend to multiply, and so
inveterate do they grow, that it
is very doubtful if such souls
will return to the pure road of
virtue and spirituality. [14]
This could be
more dangerous than I thought originally.
It doesn’t just involve a false vision here
or there. It appears that it is consuming
to the point of no return. He further
states, “…Such souls consider them to
be more spiritual than others.” [15] I
must remember to be ever humble; blessed are the
poor in spirit.
…in
order to come to this (Divine)
Union, the soul must needs enter
into the second night of the
soul…be made to walk in dark
and pure faith, which is the
proper and adequate means whereby
the soul is united with God. [16]
Just as the
Little Flower Thérèse of Lisieux walked in her
little way, trusting God completely, should I
also walk with Him as a little child who
hold’s her Father’s hand, letting Him
guide her along the path of life.
In Chapter III,
St. John discusses the night of the senses.
It isn’t proper to assume that he means us
to become numb to everything outside of God, but
rather to learn restraint of our desires.
Our senses are not purged completely, but
corrected.
This is most
difficult for me. I struggle between my
physical and spiritual aspects of myself.
It is so easy to be distracted by all the
responsibilities of the secular world. I
yearn to devote all my energies to the spirit
seven days a week, twenty-four hours a day.
Yet I cannot, as my children, husband, and
household chores invade my time and demand my
attention. It is hard to juggle the
responsibilities. It is difficult to
determine which is most important. And if I
put my spiritual needs before my family, am I
really being selfish?
I decided to
schedule my time with God, just to be sure I got
some alone time with Him every day. And
this is most disconcerting to me. I
shouldn’t have to pencil Him in my
schedule. I fight within myself
daily—especially when I have had a few days
that were so filled with appointments, cooking,
cleaning, driving the girls from place to place,
and errands that I cannot find some quantity of
quality time alone with God. I get edgy and
short-tempered with others. I resent their
intrusion on my time. I fight the strong
urge to run away from home!
Lord, help me
balance my life! Give me the perseverance
to continue here on earth with my mundane
routines. Show me how You want me to spend
my waking hours. Let me see Your Will in
the simple activities of daily life. I so
desperately want to just be in Your Presence,
adoring You for all eternity. No longer am
I concerned with any sort of reward for doing
good in Your Name. I see my insignificance
more clearly each day.
St. Thérèse,
teach me your little way. Help me focus
every moment on Our Lord, regardless of what
duties I must perform. Show me how you
found Him in chores and errands. Pray that
I open my eyes and my heart to the truth that
prayer is more than words said with bowed head in
solitude. I want every moment, every act,
every thought, and every word to be prayer.
O Lord, I am
weak and need Your guidance. I love You
with all my heart and soul, mind and body.
I want nothing to distract me from doing Your
Divine Will. Speak to me, and I will
listen. I offer my hand to You, my Father,
as a child holds her hand up high reaching to
hold her parent’s hand for loving guidance
as they walk together on a busy street.
Keep my eyes focused on You, not caring where You
lead me, as long as we are together on my
journeys. Amen.
I have not
finished my thoughts on St. John of the
Cross’s work, but I do intend to sometime in
the future. For now, I have been drawn to They
Bore the Wounds of Christ, by Michael Freze,
S.F.O. This author spends a lot of time
discussing willing victim souls, specifically
stigmatists, but also mentions suffering in other
ways as well. It is for this reason that I
am so drawn to his work at the present
moment. He addresses the subject of
mysticism as well. Possibly here I will
find more answers concerning my own personal
call.
Mysticism
involves experiential knowledge
of God from an intimate encounter
with the divine love, and
encounter that ultimately leads
to the divine union. It
must be stressed that this state
is a gift from God. No one
can ever achieve a mystical
state—let alone an authentic
experience—through his or
her own efforts; rather, God must
invite these souls and gift them
with the necessary grace to live
a life of spiritual union with
Him…. These souls must carry
a heavier burden than most,
suffering trials and tribulations
that the ordinary among the
faithful rarely experience.
St.
Teresa [of Avila] once described
the “experience” of
mystical theology as a
“feeling of the presence of
God that comes upon me
unexpectedly so that I could in
no way doubt He was within me or
I totally immersed in Him.
The soul is suspended in such a
way that it seems to be
completely outside itself.
The will loves, but the
memory…is almost
lost.” When the soul
is suspended and enraptured in
this state, then the intellect
ceases to work, for the Lord
infuses His love and one’s
own knowledge of Him without the
aid of the senses or
reason. Rather, God
communicates and loves directly
with the soul, where the mental
faculties cannot reach the very
essence of His being. [17]
St. Teresa has
described exactly the way I felt in my own
experience when I encountered God in my last
vision. I have fretted over the fact that I
had no real details in my memory. I had
been confused as to what exactly took place
between Our Lord and me. I can only say
that it was more like feeling knowledge
internally somewhere, rather than knowing
information in my brain. I could not
explain what I knew inside, because no
words were actually used during the
communications. But I can honestly testify
that the knowledge itself that was given to me is
still there within my spirit. How do I know
this? Because I feel fuller.
Because
these divine experiences are not
produced by our reason or
intellect, we call them passive
experiences because we do nothing
to cause or attain them; God
infuses them into the soul
independent of all our efforts.
[18]
This is most
assuredly my experience with God! It seems
the more I long to be near Him, the quieter He
becomes. After a yearning period that
reaches a point when I almost give up that any
further closeness is forthcoming, He brings me to
a new height!
The
knowledge of God that one
receives in the mystical state is
experiential. No one knows
God like these souls who have
experienced Him intimately and
directly, especially within the
union of love. Once, they
had only heard about Him; now
they know Him because they have
felt, tasted and touched His
goodness, His tenderness, and His
character. The Venerable
John of St. Samson describes this
as “God ineffably
perceived,” because it is a
mysterious and supernatural
experience. [19]
This is stated
so precisely that I simply could not have
improved upon his words! Never could I have
imagined in my head the Love that is God!
He is so much more! Even now, when I try to
recall Him by memory, the mental picture is so
inadequate. His very Essence cannot be
captured nor comprehended by any physical
intelligence. Our minds are so very
insufficient, but I know deep within my soul the
memory, knowledge, and experience of Him
lives. And this is what I treasure!
…Mysticism
strives for the love of
God. It is love that
propels…toward union with
God—his entire being is
consumed with a love for Love;
that is, for the God Who is Love
and Who invites us to be Love.
Prayer
is called mystical because its
conversation is altogether
secret. In it nothing is
spoken between God and the soul
except from Heart-to-heart, by a
communication incommunicable to
any others but those who make
it…. [20]
Freze’s
words gave me great relief, as I was becoming
concerned that I seemed to have less to say
to God these days. I just seem to feel
to Him. There is simply not a good English
word for it, I suppose. Rather than
speaking and even attempting to use words at all,
my communication with God is more like an
emanation out from me. And then, too, I
just like the quiet—listening to God, I
guess is the best description I can make.
It isn’t really a hearing—it is a
listening; an anticipation, a patient (and
sometimes impatient) waiting for God to
communicate with me. It is like I just open
up myself and then wait.
St. Teresa of
Avila’s “prayer of quiet”:
…Describes
a state of prayer whereby one
begins to experience the
contemplative life. The
soul, being infused with divine
grace, has begun to shed its
intellect and reason, but not yet
perfectly so; distractions still
occur in the mind which impedes
the state of the total
contemplative experience.
Along
with this entrance into the
contemplative state comes the
short prayer of affection.
These are prayers of few words,
such as, “Lord, have
mercy.”…In this state,
one truly gazes upon the Lord
with purity and simplicity,
praising and loving Him with no
discursive thought at all.
The soul simply acknowledges His
Love and His Goodness in one
sweeping breath….
Prayer does not have to include
the benefit of many words; in
fact, it does not have to include
them at all. [21]
At this I am
relieved again because I recognize that my
prayers have changed. Yes, I still do pray
with words sometimes, too, but at least now I
realize my lack of words is not born of laziness
in prayer! And yet this concerns me.
I thought the contemplative life was only
successful in a cloistered environment. How
can I do this while I have family and secular
obligations demanding my attention?
…Contemplation
is an acute awareness of
God’s presence….
It is not a vision of the senses,
but rather a vision of the
heart. The mystic in this
state comes to know God for what
He is, and not for what the mind
perceives Him to be, for no one
has ever seen God. [See 1
John 4:12] …When one
strips away all preconceived
perceptions of God, He is then
free to visit the soul and appear
as He really is…. We
come to know God by
“unknowing”….
Because the mind is incapable of
forming a true impression of God,
discursive reasoning once used in
vocal prayer and meditation can
no longer be of any use to the
soul in this state. When
the pure God of Light manifests
Himself to the impure soul, the
manifestation leaves him in
darkness because he cannot handle
the breathless Purity and Love
that is God. [22]
This passage
creates some clarity as well as confusion for
me. If, in fact, I really did have a divine
encounter, how can this be, as I know very well
of my imperfections and certain stains of
sin? Yet, when I asked to see God once more
before I left that place to return to my body, I
do not believe that I was corrected of my
flaws, but rather I was granted one more beatific
vision. And I was not in a state of
darkness afterward, unless my darkness is really
from the separation from God. Leaving His
Light was very undesirable, but I was not left
void, sad, or troubled. On the contrary, I
was ecstatically happy! Elated! And I
know I am not worthy, not near holy enough, nor
perfect, nor pure enough to deserve such a
blissful encounter with the Almighty.…
Allow
the soul to remain in rest and
quietude, even though it may seem
very obvious to them that they
are doing nothing and wasting
time, and even though they think
this disinclination to think
about anything is due to their
laxity. Through patience
and perseverance in prayer, they
will be doing a great deal
without activity on their
part. All that is required
of them here is freedom of soul,
that they liberate themselves
from the impediment and fatigue
of ideas and thoughts and care
not about thinking and
meditating. They must be
content simply with a loving and
peaceful attentiveness to God,
and live without concern, without
effort, and without the desire to
taste or feel Him. All
these desires disquiet the soul
and distract it from the peaceful
quiet and sweet idleness of the
contemplation which is being
communicated to it. [23]
I have believed
at times that laziness did play a part in my
occasional idleness, but maybe this is not the
case after all. Yet I do not want to rule
it out completely, lest it creep in, coming
between Him and me. I do not want to become
overly sure that my idleness could not be stained
by sloth! Better to question myself than to
allow complacency in prayer.
About two weeks
ago, I had a visitor sent to me in the night as I
slept. It was faceless and mostly formless,
appearing as an elongated cloud of smoky browns
and blacks. It trailed off as if it had a
tail-like ending. It approached me as I
slept on my stomach, covered my back and pinned
me to the bed. I was paralyzed
physically. Not a single part of my body
could move. It held me down, but made no
other communication. I knew immediately
that it had been sent, as if a messenger, by
another to do his dirty work. I sensed that
this entity had no will of its own. It only
obeyed instructions.
I mentally
ordered it to leave in the name of God, and it
slightly loosened its grip, but it did not
leave. It lingered, as if to intimidate me
or make me doubt the power of God over it.
Once again I
repeated the order to leave and return to its
original place in the Name of God Most Holy, more
forcefully this time and more than a little
annoyed that it had to be told twice to
obey. I said that I knew it was a creature
subject to the will of God. I knew the
rules, and it must obey promptly; so don’t
bother to stay around and attempt to play some
game with me!
And then it
released me and I could physically move
again. When I rolled over onto my back, I
knew it had fled back to report on its failure to
get me. I wondered why it was sent only
briefly; I just figured that maybe this
experience was a sign to me that maybe I am doing
something right on my spiritual path. I
know evil hates good and will do all it can to
destroy it or win it over to the dark side.
I went back to sleep and gave it not another
thought that night, dismissing it completely as
insignificant compared to the power of God.
Lord, thank You
for the faith I have in You to protect me from
evil. And for the strength to remain calm
in this situation, the knowledge of Your law, and
the understanding to know how to apply it to
dispel this spirit. Amen.
This morning I
saw my paternal Grandma who died on December 26,
1981. We had a nice visit, and I remembered that
today was her birthday. So, I wished her a happy
birthday, and she smiled broadly as she said
thank you. Then we discussed how old she would be
if she were still here on earth, and we had
decided together that she would have been
celebrating her 108th birthday.
We were sitting
together in what resembled a family room, with
lots of people coming in to visit her I did not
recognize the place, but it somehow felt
familiar. I told her how very much I had missed
her, and we hugged. I mentioned that I would like
to see her more often, and she replied that she
would keep in touch. Grandma said I could see her
again if I wanted to, but I was confused at this,
because I didn’t know how to go about
contacting her. She smiled and told me she would
show me, and she got up from her chair so I could
follow her.
Grandma started
off down a hallway—the walls, floor and
ceiling were all white. There were many, many all
white doors, and the hallway had many turns and
corners. I felt like I was in some sort of huge
white maze! I tried to follow her, but she seemed
to move so much faster than I did that I thought
I was actually going to lose sight of her. Now,
my Grandma was a very frail old woman, and I had
never seen her walk so quickly! She moved
effortlessly in spite of the rheumatism I knew
racked her body. I continued to try to follow
her, and even caught glimpses of her just as she
walked through doors and rounded corners. I went
as fast as I could, but eventually I lost her. I
was so very disappointed that I could not keep up
and had lost sight of her that I sat down against
a white wall and grieved momentarily.
Then I smiled
because I had seen her, however briefly. I came
out of the vision—or dream—and really
missed her. I reminisced about our times together
at her farm and realized that today actually was
her birthday, July 18th. It hit me then that this
visit was more than just a plain dream. She had
been with me on her birthday, and I feel thankful
and blessed to have seen her again.
I do not
understand the significance of the white hallways
and doors she moved through. Are they something I
should know more about? Or will I discover more
about them sometime in the future? O Lord, help
me discern the meaning of these things.
Today is the
Feast of the Assumption of Mary into heaven, and
I am impelled to write about the events that
occurred two Sundays ago, but first I must lead
up to it.
On the Feast of
St. Anne, my special Patroness, I received an
email from a man named Giordano. He explained he
had seen my website on the internet and felt
compelled to write me. Giordano was currently an
Australian citizen, but was originally from Malta
During the 1950’s, he was a spiritual child
of Padre Pio; this he attempted to prove to me by
attaching to his letter a picture of himself
standing next to the Blessed Padre. They both
appeared with friendly faces, obviously sharing
the intimacy of a very real friendship. And so I
read on.
He further
explained that he had received a gift of a cloth
that had been used as a bandage to soak up blood
from the heart stigmata wound of the Padre. I was
amazed and got chilled thinking how blessed this
man was having such a memento of this holy
priest. Giordano went on to say that he also felt
compelled to send me a piece of this relic cloth
saturated with Padre’s blood. This letter
brought such tears to my eyes; I was so thankful
and so surprised at his generosity!
I printed off
his emails and kept them for future reference.
I prayed for
discernment regarding the relic’s
authenticity, and was secretly very excited,
wondering why I was being singled out to receive
such a precious treasure.
The wonderful
gift was received on August 10th, a Tuesday,
which I felt was very appropriate, as I had said
the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary that night
with the relic pressed against my own heart.
The mental
images of Our Lord’s suffering were so much
more vivid; it was the easiest rosary I have ever
prayed. I did not struggle within at all to keep
my mind from wondering. All thoughts stayed on
Our Lord’s Passion, as though I were there
and witnessing it unfold.
In our parish
bulletin, I had seen an announcement that a
famous visionary/healer from Italy was coming to
my Cathedral for a healing service the next
Sunday night after the 5:00 Mass. I wanted to go,
but had reservations, as I did not feel that my
time for personal physical healing was near. I
also wondered if she was really authentic and
gifted by God. Yet, I was curious. I will not
mention the name of the healer, as I am very
uninterested in passing judgment publicly on
anyone who claims to be close to God. Only the
Church is wise enough to comment on the
authenticity of these things, and I will not
champion her case, nor will I condemn it. I only
present the facts of the events that occurred as
I experienced them firsthand.
The Saturday
before the scheduled event, my symptoms worsened.
The pain and fatigue were pretty difficult, and I
prayed hard to God asking for guidance in this
matter. I really do want to be well, but I do not
want to return to my old job. We could not live
on my husband’s salary without my disability
benefit or my working at that old job that I
hated but paid well. I felt that my work here on
earth consisted of something entirely different,
and I did not want to be stuck again in a forty
hour work week rut, sidetracking me further from
my real mission in life. I did not want to face
God one day and have to explain to Him that I
couldn’t get around to it because I was too
busy making a buck or two!
I had also
accepted that my illnesses and suffering was here
to stay: indefinitely incurable. I began to be
grateful for the opportunity to atone for my own
sins, and maybe contribute in some small way to
the atonement for the sins of the world. I prayed
my Morning Offering prayer often.
I can only pray
that my little contribution is making a
difference in the grand scheme of things. The
thought of being suddenly healed was very
appealing, yet a large part of me wished to
continue my offering of suffering.
I decided then
to make the effort to go to the service, leaving
my health and illness in His Hands. I promised
Him that if made well enough, I would make every
effort to attend daily Mass.
Sunday evening
service began with the recitation of the Rosary.
I was feeling horribly that night. The pain and
fatigue was worse than the day before, and I was
unable to remain kneeling for very long.
During the
Rosary’s Fourth Glorious Mystery, the
visionary claimed Our Lady appeared to her right
there in our Cathedral. I really did not know
what to make of this. Deep down, I hoped she was
really there and I longed to see her as well, but
prayed and concentrated on Our Lady in my mind
and heart privately. I felt very close to tears
while I prayed silently, and it was rather
difficult for me to hold them back. I probably
should have just let the tears flow freely, but I
really wasn’t interested in drawing any
attention to myself. In that, I was successful.
Other than a
change of the healer’s tone of voice and an
interruption in the praying of the Rosary, there
was nothing out of the ordinary witnessed during
the alleged apparition of Mary to her. After we
finished prayer, the visionary mentioned nothing
further about it. She offered no explanation as
to what was said—she spoke in Italian
herself, so we did not understand what was going
on exactly—nor did she offer any words from
Mary to us. She just went about the business of
settling herself before Mass began.
The Mass was
very nice and my anticipation was building. I saw
so many people there who were so much worse off
me. There was a young boy across the aisle from
me who had cerebral palsy. I told God I’d be
happy to stay ill and suffer the rest of my life
if this boy could get better. As I glanced around
the Cathedral, I saw so many wheelchairs, canes,
and oxygen tanks that I was overwhelmed. I
decided during that Mass that I was very content
to continue my suffering, and asked God to heal
all others but me. Little did I know, that later
the healer would single me out of all the
hundreds that filled the church.
After Mass, she
spoke through her interpreter, saying she would
walk up and down the aisles herself looking at
the crowd. It was important that we just remain
seated quietly. She would stop and pick whomever
the Spirit guided her to and we should not try to
hail her attention. She walked down the center
aisle past me all the way to the back pews, and
then began walking slowly back up toward the
sanctuary.
I had decided
when she passed me that it was apparent that it
wasn’t yet my turn. This was what I had
fully expected anyway, as I seemed to know inside
that my hour had not yet come. It was fine with
me. By this time, I had grown more anxious for
those surrounding me. Hopefully I would get to
witness a real miracle or two occur in the lives
of those other severely suffering believers. I
would be so very happy for them! And after all, I
was actually trying to be as invisible as I
could. I laughed to myself that I was acting like
a child in school who was trying desperately to
hide so the teacher would not call on them!
But then
suddenly she stopped and stood right next to me.
I was frankly petrified. She looked at me closely
and asked me why I needed my cane. What was wrong
with me? I sat shocked that she would single me
out of the hundreds present, and rather nervously
explained my illnesses. She motioned for me to
follow her up to the front of the main altar and
sit in a chair with my back to the people. She
prayed a litany in Latin while touching my head
and neck area.
I was very
nervous. I did not know what to expect, being the
very first person chosen, and I had never
experienced any type of healing service before. I
tried to be open to whatever might
happen—even nothing. I tried to concentrate
on Our Lord and His love, while trying to
disregard the fact I was in front of several
hundred people, all waiting to witness what would
happen to me.
After the
litany, she had me stand up away from the chair
facing the altar. She leaned close to me with her
interpreter and whispered that I should fall
backward when she touched me. Two men positioned
themselves behind me to catch me. She said
something in Italian and then touched my chest
over my heart. As I fell backwards, I felt as if
I was moving ever so slowly. I realized I was
falling, but I was unconcerned. My natural
reaction to try to break my fall left me, which
in itself surprised me.
Two very nice
men caught me and laid me gently on the floor. I
heard a whisper of awe spread throughout the
crowd as she bent over me and prayed some more
while holding a small crucifix up in front of me.
I lay there, for
how many minutes I do not know, before she helped
me get up. Her arms were extended out around my
sides so that her palms faced inwards toward my
body. She moved them very slowly from my waist
area to my knees, asking me if I felt anything,
like a tingling or some other sensation. For a
while I felt nothing, and she kept her hands
steady at my knees.
I sensed
everyone watching and expecting to witness a real
miracle. I felt pressured to not disappoint them.
I simply wished I was somewhere else at that
moment: someplace that was private between God
and me, someplace that wouldn’t impact the
faith of believers in the healing power of God,
someplace where I remained anonymous in the crowd
as a bystander. I could literally feel the
anxious tension, the expectations growing by the
second. O Lord, how will this affect the masses
if absolutely nothing happened here? Will I be
held responsible for discouraging others? Is my
lack of faith hindering a real healing? Is it me,
or is it her?
Suddenly my
knees began to tremble more violently than they
normally do, like I actually might lose control
of them. She had taken away my cane and laid it
on the altar earlier, so I stood by my own
strength. Then, just as suddenly, they quit! I
felt no tremors nor tics nor twitches whatsoever
in my legs. It had been over four years since
they were completely still and felt real
strength. An overwhelming surge of tears welled
up within me as I was filled with absolute joy.
She took my
hand, and smiling, said to me, “Let’s
run!” And then I just ran across the front
of the Church and down the center aisle. I have
not been able to run in over four years either! I
smiled broadly and cried and laughed, “I can
run!” When I returned to the front altar, I
immediately went down on my knees crying words of
thanks and praise to God. It is really hard to
describe what was happening within me.
After that, I
stayed to see what would happen to others. I saw
her move through the pews, selecting sick people
one at a time. At one point, she requested a
priest come to pray over a couple of people that
she had said were possessed by demons. She was
saying different prayers over these particular
people in either Italian or maybe Latin, and it
appeared that she was attempting to exorcise
them. I was a little confused at this, as I
recall reading some Catholic literature somewhere
that stated the exorcism of demons in a real
“possession” situation should only be
undertaken by a highly trained and knowledgeable
priest or bishop. All of the expelling of evil
that I personally had done involved removing them
from a place, not a person. Her involvement with
this only briefly concerned me and quickly
dismissed this from my mind.
I stayed in the
side pews out of her way, letting her conduct her
healings, but during the rest of the service
people from all over the Church came over to me
to talk to me about what had happened to me. They
were curious and asked lots of questions. A
couple of times I glanced away from those who
sought me out to see what was happening with the
others. A couple of times I saw the healer
staring—or was it glaring—at me as she
worked. Once, I noticed she leaned over to her
interpreter and spoke something in Italian while
she looked intently at me. I was taken aback by
this look, but chose to ignore this too, and I
continued to sing the praises of God to others
around me.
I noticed that
no person after me had the same reaction to her
healing prayers that I had. She was insistent on
claiming the canes and wheelchairs were no longer
necessary, and that she would take them all back
to Europe to be placed at some shrine to Our
Lady. At least one person was there videotaping
all that was happening. She finally had to stop
the service, as it was nearly 11:00 p.m. and she
was getting very tired. She also insisted that we
were to go with her to meet with the Bishop the
next morning as testimony to what had occurred
that night.
Several people
were rather upset with her insisting on taking
her expensive wheelchairs. Even if they would
never need them again, they had been costly and
could be given to someone else who needed it. I
saw people gradually sneaking up toward the altar
where she had stashed all these items, and taking
them back to the people who owned them. I left my
cane up there. I decided that whether or not my
healing was permanent, I could make a good faith
offering of it to Our Lady. Canes are not that
expensive, and if I ever had need for one in the
future, I would just buy another one.
When I arrived
home that night, I told my family what had
happened to me with tears of joy in my eyes. I
was grateful to God, and vowed to begin attending
daily Mass regularly, beginning the very next
morning. I was able to kneel throughout the
entire Consecration after that, which I
personally was most thankful for, as I had not
been able to do this for quite some time.
Genuflection was easier for me. I managed to
attend Mass every day for well over a month
before I had to take a trip to Little Rock to see
my parents. My brother was getting a divorce and
moving that weekend. Mom told me he was not doing
well with this, and as many of the family that
could be there for him during his pain would be
helpful. So, I went.
Gradually my
legs worsened until they were as bad as they were
before the healing service. After about a week, I
could definitely tell that all my symptoms were
returning. I was extremely concerned about this
for several different reasons. What had happened
to me that night was extremely public, and these
people would see my health declining when I
attended Mass using another cane. How would this
affect the faith of others? Would I be the cause
of some of them losing some amount of hope in the
healing power of Jesus? Was it because my faith
was lacking? Did I do something that caused me to
fall from grace and deserve a relapse? Was what I
experienced a genuine healing? Was I right all
along that my time had not yet come? I resigned
myself to the fact that I was right back where I
started.
The struggle
with these thoughts became so overwhelming that I
felt impelled to discuss it in the confessional.
I sat before Father and tried to explain how
heavy the feeling I had really was. I told him
that being a publicly, miraculously healed person
seemed to carry great responsibilities, and I was
afraid I was totally missing the mark. He
didn’t really seem to understand what I was
trying to say, partly I think, because he
wasn’t actually present for that healing
service but had heard about it from others. He
did tell me that if I was truly healed, then I
was healed. If I wasn’t, then I should not
be so overly concerned about the perceptions of
others. There was a real danger that my pride was
actually at the root of my upset.He advised me
that I had an obligation to be truthful in all
matters, and if I was an ill person, then I
should accept it as God’s Will.
Father’s
words did help me somewhat. I tried to go on
again with life as if nothing had ever happened
that night. I declined enough that I was unable
to attend daily Mass on a regular basis, and I
could no longer kneel throughout the entire
Consecration. I often needed help genuflecting,
which really didn’t bother me much, because
I chose to bend my knee all the way to the floor.
I really have issues with people I see only go
down a few inches very quickly. That sort of
movement reminds me of a curtsey not a
genuflection! I will go all the way to the floor
as long as I am even remotely able to! Of course,
getting back up is the biggest problem, but there
is never a shortage of help with that. My family
is extremely accommodating in making sure I
maneuver safely whenever they are with me. And
quite frankly, I would rather be seen falling
flat on my face in front of everyone than to
slight God by putting my own convenience ahead of
showing Him proper respect in His own house.
A lot has
happened since the healing service last August. I
have tried very seriously to not doubt or judge
what happened that day, but I have been allowed
more clarity into it recently.
About a month
ago, I read the book, An Exorcist Tells His
Story, written by the foremost exorcist in
Italy in modern times. It was originally
published and written, I believe, to express the
very reality of demonic possessions, curses,
hexes, and spells or incantations. This book made
a huge impression upon me.
For some reason,
my experience with this particular
visionary-healer kept niggling my mind. As I
gradually read through the book, I would have
flashes of memory back to the events of that
night.
The Holy Spirit
works through us for the betterment of souls. I
have no doubt of this. He never creates uneasy
feelings, but He may inspire holy fear of the
Lord. Discernment of events and circumstances can
be difficult, and I gladly leave all the official
judgments to the Catholic Church.
I will, however,
mention the instances of that service where I
hesitate and question.
The morning
after, a Monday, I went to our local Catholic
bookstore to see the owner, Deacon Lee Ellis. He
had been present for the entire service himself,
so he witnessed first hand what had happened to
me and to others present. Already then, I was
concerned about the legitimacy and origin of the
prior night’s experience.
I spoke with him
for nearly two hours about the events the night
before, and also about my previous spiritual
experiences. Before I met with Lee, I had been a
long time customer at his shop, and we knew each
other by name. Never had I spoken to him about
any visions or premonitions that I had been
experiencing all my life. I decided that in order
for him to fully understand where I was coming
from, I must fill him in on the details of my
involvement with God and spiritual beings. Lee
listened intently when I spoke of my visions. He
was interested particularly in the last vision
that involved an ecstatic physical reaction. I
met with him not knowing what to expect his
reaction to my story would be, but he was open
and supportive to all I had to say.
My first and
biggest question for Lee was: Why me? And, why me
first of all those hundreds of people? I
had known—or at least thought I had
known—for quite some time that it was not
my time for physical healing. My illness had not
yet completely served its purpose. I went to this
service out of mere curiosity, and yes, maybe a
little bit of me hoped for a personal healing
miracle, but I never actually expected one that
night.
Lee made some
very good points.He offered three scenarios:she
and I were both of God; she was not of God and I
was; neither of us have gifts of God.
In the first
scenario, she walked through the aisles looking
at everyone, then suddenly stopped at me because
kindred souls—or like energy—would
recognize others like themselves. If she had a
gift, the Holy Spirit working through her would
recognize the gifts in me. I could see that, I
guess.
In the second
scenario, if she was not of God and I was, evil
would enjoy ridiculing good. Evil would attempt
to discredit or destroy the good. Evil is a
“pro” at targeting the good. I could
see that reasoning, too.
In the third
scenario, once again like would recognize like.
Evil would find evil and have a laugh pulling one
over on the gullible believers in attendance.
That made sense, too.
The only
scenario that Lee left out was if she was of God
and I wasn’t. I guess he really didn’t
think that was much of a possibility or he would
have mentioned that. Lee is a pretty
straightforward kind of man. He says what’s
on his mind frankly.
It has been
several months since that healing service, and I
have had quite a while to think about what
happened and what Lee discussed with me.
There are
several other facts of that night that haunt me.
Within a few days, all my symptoms began to
reappear. I became embarrassed about my behavior
that night in Church almost immediately. It
certainly started to fester the next day and to
build until I was almost too ashamed to attend
Mass the very next Sunday.
She was adamant
about taking all the canes, wheelchairs,
crutches, and walkers back to Italy with her. She
was even more determined that we all go the very
next morning to show ourselves to the bishop and
“testify.”
I don’t
know who was doing it or why, but someone
videotaped the entire service. For what purpose,
I could not say exactly, but it felt like she was
documenting her own case for sainthood. At one
point, after she had moved on to another person
to “heal,” she turned to me when I was
retrieving my cane from the altar. She forcefully
told me to put it back. I explained that I wanted
it as a reminder of where I have been, and she
repeated for me to put it back. It was no longer
mine.
Then she
beckoned me to come up next to her and assist
her, which I did. Suddenly she turned her
attention from her healing a person and angrily
told me to remove my earrings that were
crucifixes. She told me to never wear them again,
that wearing a crucifix anywhere but around the
neck was wrong and an affront to God. She used
the word “vanity” to describe them. I
promptly took them off, but wondered why the
crucifixes bothered her then, especially since
she had seen them the entire time she was working
on “healing” me.
Later, I noticed
she had called for a priest, who did come, and
she kept sprinkling what we assumed was holy
water on two or three people laying on the floor.
They would writhe like they were possessed. One
of these men on the floor was there because he
said he had heart problems. She was bent over him
praying, and suddenly she straightened up, looked
directly at me and said something in Italian to
her assistant. She stared directly into my eyes,
and I saw something that resembled a coldness, an
anger. It made me shudder. Her interpreter
mumbled something back to her in Italian, and
then they both looked at me. Her assistant seemed
to have a disapproving frown. She then went back
to work on the man.
After that, I
stayed away from her and the front of the
Cathedral where she was working on people. I was
beginning to feel uncomfortable as I noticed that
no one else had as dramatic a reaction to her
“healing” as I had. No one else was any
better off than when they came in the door. And
she never turned to them to say they could not
have their belongings, their wheelchairs or
canes, back. Only me.
I still wondered
why I was singled out all evening long.
I do not really
want to form an opinion about this woman herself,
but overall, I now view the entire experience as
a negative one. I cannot say whether the Holy
Spirit moved my body that night or whether it was
Satan himself, but I do not one thing for sure.
With every single one of my private spiritual
encounters, I was changed for the positive. I was
left wanting and craving more of the Light. I
desired It then, right after I saw It, and I
still desire It now. This is definitely not the
way I feel about this very public experience.
Overall, it was an experience I would rather
forget.
I do know this
much, too: Jesus always told the people He healed
to keep quiet and tell no one. He never tried to
document His healings so He could later prove
them. It was just not important to Him. On the
contrary, it was important to have no notoriety
for His healings.
I cannot say
what entity filled me that night. Because of my
past spiritual experiences, I cannot say whether
she or I was the instrument of causing it all.
After reading
the book by the Italian exorcist, I now know that
the devil is a master of trickery. He can
recognize if a person is possessed as well, and
he may use the ploy of “casting out”
for his own evil purposes. This knowledgeable
exorcist states emphatically that a layperson
should never attempt to exorcise a demon
from a possessed person. The devil can even cause
healings to lead others astray.
The Holy Roman
Catholic Church will deliver the final verdict on
this visionary-healer.
The day before
our fifth anniversary, I saw my Peepaw, my
mother’s father, standing beside my bed. He
looked younger than he did before he died in
1986. He looked more like the man I knew when I
was young. He wore a very nice suit and tie that
morning. I could see him standing slightly
sideways, as if facing another person who stood
to his left. But I didn’t see anyone else
there. His right hand extended toward me, and
then he pointed directly at me, as though showing
me to someone. He had a serious look on his
face—not stern or disapproving, just
serious. And then he disappeared.
It is now
September in the Jubilee Year of 2000. This past
summer I have had an increasing unrest in my
heart. I can feel that something is
coming, something that makes me very sad inside,
a sadness that goes deeper than I have ever felt.
It is much bigger than me, so much so that I can
scarcely contain it. Maybe it is because this is
a sadness of my spirit, not my heart, emotions,
or mind. It is very difficult to describe.
Whatever I am feeling seems to be before me,
extends straight through me, and goes on even
behind me. It permeates me.
At first I
thought maybe I was just worried about our
finances, which have been pretty lean lately. Or
maybe my recent health decline has taken its toll
on me.
After much
contemplation, stillness, and listening, I
discovered that I am sad not only for my family,
but for the whole world. I feel society nowadays
is falling off into an abyss. The
self-centeredness that is promoted, accepted, and
expected weigh heavily upon me. The pure meanness
that we display to one another, our harshness of
tone, and the lack of respect so prevalent in
society, all distraught me. Common courtesy is
not so common anymore. There is a simmering anger
in our children, as well as in adults, that
surfaces frequently.
No wonder my
sorrow is so large that it extends outside me:
it’s global sadness! Even though I have
figured out what is upsetting me, I cannot seem
to squelch it. Rather, it seems to grow little by
little every day. I cannot shake the feeling that
something major is going to take place very soon
that will shake the world up enough to rethink
the direction we are all headed.
Yesterday was
September 15th, the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows.
My sadness was at its peak. I decided that I
would try to get my mind on other matters, so I
went to lunch alone. When I go out to eat alone,
I like to take a book to read or my notes that I
am making for the book I’m to write. This
time I took a book about the real Presence in the
Eucharist. Suddenly I knew I had to leave the
restaurant and head to St. John’s Chapel
where they have perpetual adoration of the
Blessed Sacrament, so I knew that it would be
open for visitation. I simply had to see Jesus
face to Face right then. So, I paid my check and
drove home to pick up a couple of chaplets and my
New St. Joseph People’s Prayer Book.
I had never been
to the Chapel at St. John’s Hospital, so I
asked someone where it was. I found it fairly
easily. The Chapel was so beautiful and inviting,
cozy and homey too. I was excited to be there,
but the Blessed Sacrament was not in view. There
are no words to adequately describe my
disappointment. I felt an overall bereft
deprivation; it was aching. The lights were lit
on the altar by the tabernacle, so I knew He was
present. I just couldn’t gaze upon Him as I
prayed.
The crucifix
above the altar was a life sized alabaster
sculpture on a marble cross. It was awesome.
Intent on being
there with Him for whatever reason it was that He
had called me, I went to a seat down front and
began to say the Divine Mercy Chaplet.
No one else was
there. I was all alone in the Chapel, and He was
all alone in the tabernacle. The sadness overtook
me, and I wept like a baby. I sobbed hard for
everyone else who wasn’t there. The world
itself had no idea Who we were missing out on. He
is the only “Who” that can make all the
difference in our lives.
I arrived at
1:30 that afternoon and prayed for two solid
hours. I made the Way of the Cross and stood in
front of the Crucifixion station at 3:00, the
time that is reported to be Jesus’ time of
death. I could not be in any better place at that
very moment.
These two hours
of fervent prayer differed from other times I
have prayed. Each Our Father, Hail Mary, Gloria,
and Credo was prayed so thoughtfully. I found
real peace there in the Chapel before God, but I
knew I had not completed the day’s mission.
I must see Our Lord face to Face today! I
made a devout resolution to meet Him at evening
Mass at the Cathedral.
No matter what,
I was going to be near Jesus in the Blessed
Sacrament that day. Somehow I knew that this was
all some sort of test for me.
For quite some
time now, probably a couple of years, I have been
begging God to let me suffer more if it would
make a difference in the world. Yesterday, God
told me that my sensitivity to the
“void” in the world and its resulting
overwhelming sadness was part of the suffering I
had been asking for. He wants me to bear this
sadness, this agony, and suffer spiritually. It
hurts so desperately, but I am also so very
willing.
At 3:30, I came
home to my family. Austin decided to go to Mass
with me that evening. We arrived early so that I
could go to confession.
Monsignor heard
my confession, and he was extraordinarily
comforting. I cried then, too, explaining my
feelings of being torn apart by the world and the
evil in it, while trying desperately to make a
positive difference with my own family, friends,
and even strangers. It was a cleansing, but the
pain remained deep. Nothing was going to take it
away from me.
I was teary all
through Mass, as I anxiously awaited the
Consecration and Holy Communion. I felt
spiritually uplifted after I received Him. I had
found, in Him, true peace at last.
I reconfirmed my
promise to myself that I would try to attend
daily Mass as often as I possibly could. I may
spend more time before the tabernacle. This is
something that I simply must do right now.
(People
come to this locutionist for counseling. She has
helped thousands over the last 2 decades).
I have been
hounded relentlessly with the thought that I must
make a leap of faith. I have also been confused
about my gift of prophecy and using it to counsel
others. People in distress need words of comfort.
That is really why they come to me anyway. A
typical session begins with questions about a
particular situation that they need help with;
they want to know the outcome and if their
choices are the right ones.
I always ask Our
Lord to tell me what it is He wants them to know,
and then I ask Him to help me speak His message
exactly. It is His truth that matters, not my
opinion of a situation. I refuse to communicate
with any other entity other than God Himself,
even though I have had clients ask me to talk to
dead relatives, spirit guides, or angels out of
desperation!
Occasionally the
messages and information God gives me is not what
they want to hear, but I do not change any of it
to please anyone. If they want that kind of
dialogue, they can seek out the charlatans who
take financial advantage of frustrated people. In
this day and age, there are so many! The ads on
television and in magazines are full of people
claiming to have "psychic" powers. It
seems that everyone is trying to cash in on the
misfortunes of desperate souls.
Having said
this, I would like to point out some major
differences between a person who is truly a
gifted visionary and a charlatan.
Any person who
memorizes a rulebook or a “how to read
cards” book is only playing a parlor game.
There is no real gift of “seeing”
involved in that. Anyone can memorize the
“meanings of the cards.” Cards in
themselves, whether they are tarot or a regular
playing deck, hold no actual power or
information. To claim that they do is ridiculous,
superstitious, and inviting trouble. The danger
lies in the fact that people believe they hold
some sort of undeniable truths. When people
expect them to, revere them in themselves, desire
them, and build a life centered on the
“information” they glean from cards,
then there is an extreme danger. Cards can be a
tool of divination, and therefore they
can open the door to the dark forces of evil if
they are not properly handled.
Over the last
decade or so, I have met card readers and
so-called psychics. I have seen evil at work! I
have seen greed and falsity and scamming going
on. I know from personal experience that there
truly are some people who are gifted seers, but
the current popularity of consulting a psychic
has drawn, quite frankly, some pretty unstable
people to place on their trust and money in this
pagan darkness.
I have seen
people who absolutely worship crystals and their
primitive energies. I’ve seen people claim
to cleanse auras. I have spoken to people who
cast spells. There are those who claim to
“channel” the spirits of your dead
relatives or some “spirit guide.” Most
of these people believe themselves to be
“light workers.” This is pretty scary
business for unsuspecting, desperate, trusting
souls. Unfortunately, I fear the masses have come
to desire this kind of interference in their
lives. People can become addicted to the drama of
it all.
“Psychic
fairs” and "psychic hotlines" have
sprung up all over the country. People flock to
them. All of these desperate souls are curious
and searching for someone to tell them better
times are coming soon for them. Even though I,
myself, have never really fallen prey to this
type of Hollywood hype, I have studied their
ways. I wandered among them. Spoke to them.
Purchased countless books on the New Age
subjects, and I learned a lot about a wide
variety of divination tools and pagan ways. And
they do all boil down to this: PAGAN and SATANIC.
Pure and simple.
I’ve read
about wicca and witchcraft—even met a few
people who refer to themselves as “white
witches.” I learned about herbs and
spells, crystals and energy fields, psychometry
and card reading, angel power and spirit guides.
I personally believe in knowing and
understanding the enemy so that he can be
recognized as such. This is a basic strategy
of warriors. Make no mistake; it is a war. More
souls are enticed to the New Age belief systems
every day. They all need our prayers. The people
cashing in on the unsuspecting folks dazzle them
with trinkets and props. They adopt stage names
for themselves like “Morning Star” or
“Soaring Eagle.” It is all so
flamboyant and alluring. Some of them have done
such a good job at faking it, they’ve
convinced themselves they’re really gifted!
Others may have a legitimate ability to see
future events, but from whom did they get their
gift? God? Or Satan? And how do they know for
sure? Or does this really matter to them at all,
as long as they make a few bucks? Then there are
the victims who go to these false prophets,
hoping to hear encouraging news. For them,
especially, I pray.
Father, forgive
them, for they know not what they are doing!
I always trash
all my books on these New Age subjects, as I am
concerned that their very presence in my home
might be disruptive or inviting evil into my
house. After reading them, I have already gleaned
all I could from them anyway, and so they served
no future purpose whatsoever here. I certainly
didn’t want them to fall into anyone
else’s hands, so they were bundled up with
the regular garbage and put out at the curb.
How I know
things from the future, I don’t exactly
know. I just have things in my head suddenly,
like I am watching a movie of a person's life and
future. Some seers claim to hear voices, but I
don’t hear the information that way. The
answers to the questions of others are heard in
my head. None of it is conjured. Neither can I
force an answer to come to me. I do not and never
have claimed to be 100% right about every single
thing. People still have free wills, and they can
exercise them to change their paths in life. I do
not and never have claimed to have an answer to
every question. I am not omniscient. Sometimes,
God is silent. Sometimes, we are not supposed to
know every detail about our futures. Some things
must be experienced for our greater good without
any foreknowledge. Some sufferings have merit and
cannot be avoided. Some good news should be a
pleasant surprise. We cannot and should not be
warned about every single thing in our lives.
Where, then, would our choices and free wills
come into play?
I have tried so
many times to bury my own gift down so deep it
would quit working. I have tried in every way I
can think of to hide it under the Biblical bushel
basket. Every time I even attempt to do this, I
become flooded with mystical experiences and
visions of God or of the future. If I try to
ignore it all, the information gets louder and
stronger so I can’t ignore it. So, I know
there must be some purpose for this gift—or
is it a curse?
I have learned
somehow to “filter” information.
Normally now, I do not suddenly “know”
things about others unless they specifically ask
me or invite me to “look” and
“see.” Sometimes, however, I am meant
to “hear and see” anyway. Occasionally
when I am in public, I get overwhelming feelings
of an eerie presence or extreme
darkness—i.e., a dark energy or
spirit—nearby. Most of the time I can
determine its exact location, and whether the
darkness belongs to a specific person or if it is
just in the atmosphere. If I feel real danger, I
know to leave that place immediately.
Because this has
happened to me most of my life, I have learned
not to question it. Just accept it. I used to
call it “trusting my instincts.” I have
always felt a little guilty or awkward about
doing this, however. I felt like I was somehow
spying or invading the privacy of others. The
“filtering” I do now has helped me a
great extent to keep from being bombarded from
all directions with strange information when I am
out in a crowded public place. I really
don’t even know how the
“filtering” I do works exactly. If I
had to write an instructional “how to,”
I couldn’t. All I know is that the filter
turns off when I am approached and asked a
“seeing” type of question. It is really
strange and difficult to explain how it works,
but I know it does.
Perhaps the Holy
Spirit is assisting me with my sensitivity level.
God knows I have asked Him often enough to just
take it away from me altogether, because I just
don’t want to know all the things that I
“know” about people. Rather than simply
removing His gift totally, He must be helping me
deflect the extraneous information. I am still
unsure exactly how God intends for me to use this
gift of vision.
During the last
five years, I have changed so much. My
relationship with God is so much closer, and I
long to be with Him always. Sometimes I am so
anxious for this life to be over that I do not
feel fully within my own corporal body. All I
really know is this: the more I know and feel
Him, the more I want Him and want others to want
Him, too.
Lord, I await
Your direction. I am willing to do Your Divine
Will. I am willing to suffer in this life if it
gives You glory. Unite my sufferings with those
of Your dearly beloved Son, so that they may be
worthy.
I went to bed
last night late, around 1:45 this morning
actually. I prayed to Blessed (now Saint) Padre
Pio for help healing if it be God’s Will,
and also for the financial prosperity of my
family and friends. I would trade all the
stressful financial concerns my illness causes
the whole family—all that suffering my
husband and children bear—for increased
suffering upon myself. I am willing to suffer
more physically just to spare them this other
worry and pain.
Then I started
my novena to St. Thérèse the Little Flower for
this very intention. I also prayed to St. Jude
for a financial miracle. Our money is so tight
right now we cannot meet all our obligations.
This crisis distracts us all so much from
focusing our lives on God. It truly is a
struggle—one that I am weary of—that I
have had to deal with for forty-one years of my
life. (She is now older than 41.)
As always during
prayer and conversation with God and His saints,
my mind wandered elsewhere. When I pray in bed at
night, I close my eyes and focus internally. This
is different than the way I pray during the day,
when I have my eyes open and gaze upon a holy
image or read in prayer book or scripture. It is
really easier to let my mind wander when I focus
internally, and it happened again last night.
Everyone knows that when you have your eyes
closed at night in bed, no light filters through
because the lamps are out. You just seem to stare
into nothingness.
However, when I
have some of my visions they appear to me when my
eyes are closed and vanish when I open them. The
images are three-dimensional and just seem to
float in the nothingness. They appear as if I
were looking at them with my eyes open. Other
visions that I have occur during regular daylight
hours when I am going on with my own business.
And still others seem to appear in my forehead,
above my eyes. My eyeballs see the other kinds of
visions, but I see this type differently.
Last night in my
prayers and meditations, suddenly I saw a
perfectly beautiful red rose bud barely open in
bloom right before my eyes. It was faint, but it
was there. That was all I recalled until I awoke
this morning at 9:50. I felt fairly certain that
the rose was from St. Thérèse, as she has
always said she will answer prayers with a shower
of roses. I remembered then that I had fallen
asleep before I had finished the novena prayers,
so I began to pray them again. Pretty soon after
I had begun, another vision appeared before me.
Words written in red in a block-letter type style
were arranged to form the shape of a heart. I
could make out most of the words written there
before they faded away. What I saw resembled
this:
| NAME |
KNOW |
| THAT I LOVE YOU |
| IT ISN’T
TIME |
| FOR YOU TO |
| HEAL |
I
am not sure exactly who this message was from,
but I have the impression that it was from the
Blessed Padre, the Immaculate Heart, or the
Sacred Heart.
I only think it
is from Mary or Jesus because it was
heart-shaped, and I really feel that it is more
from Padre Pio because I specifically asked him
last night for healing. I am grateful for such an
obvious message, as I have always felt this same
way about my health. For now, my suffering must
serve some purpose, and for that, I am willing to
accept my plight. I continued my novena prayers
and then rose to make notes in this journal.
What a glorious
day this is!
To my heavenly
messenger: I love you, too!
It occurred to
me this evening that there is some significance
in that both the rose bud and the heart message
were rather faint and not clearly easy to
“see.” Is it possible that they were
actually intended for my subconscious to pick up
and not for the newly awakened conscious me? If
that is true, then should I assume that I have
received many other such messages that my spirit
received but my consciousness is unaware of?
O Lord, help me
to discern Your Word. Ease my concerns over
worldly troubles. If they are to remain part of
my life, show me how to use them to benefit
others. Amen.
[1] St. John of
the Cross, Dark Night of the Soul, Book I
Chapter II
[2] St. John of the Cross, Dark Night of the
Soul, Book I Chapter II
[3] Ibid
[4] St. John of the Cross, Dark Night of the
Soul, Book I Chapter II
[5] St. John of the Cross, Dark Night of the
Soul, Book I Chapter III
[6] St. John of the Cross, Dark Night of the
Soul, Book I Chapter V
[7] St. John of the Cross, Dark Night of the
Soul, Book I Chapter V
[8] St. John of the Cross, Dark Night of the
Soul, Book I Chapter VII
[9] St. John of the Cross, Dark Night of the
Soul, Book I Chapter XII
[10] St. John of the Cross, Dark Night of the
Soul, Book I Chapter XII
[11] St. John of the Cross, Dark Night of the
Soul, Book I Chapter XIII
[12] St. John of the Cross, Dark Night of the
Soul, Book II Chapter I
[13] St. John of the Cross, Dark Night of the
Soul, Book II Chapter II
[14] St. John of the Cross, Dark Night of the
Soul, Book II Chapter II
[15] Ibid
[16] Ibid
[17] Freze, Michael S.F.O., They Bore the
Wounds of Christ, p. 91
[18] Freze, Michael S.F.O., They Bore the
Wounds of Christ, p. 92
[19] Ibid, p. 93
[20] Freze, Michael S.F.O., They Bore the
Wounds of Christ, p. 94
[21] Freze, Michael S.F.O., They Bore the
Wounds of Christ, p. 101
[22] Ibid, p. 102
[23] Freze, Michael S.F.O., They Bore the
Wounds of Christ, p. 103
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 01/09/2006
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