Poem Of The Man God The Gospel As Revealed To Me

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    Jesus's Comments and Words of Enlightenment

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    Jesus's Comments and Words of Enlightenment Empty Jesus's Comments and Words of Enlightenment

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    THE PASSION
    599. The Agony and the Arrest at Gethsemane.
    10th February 1944.


    Jesus says:

    « And now come. Although this evening you are like one who is about to breathe his last, come, so that I may lead you towards My sufferings. Long is the way that we shall have to cover together, because I was not spared any sorrow: neither the pain of the flesh, nor the grief of the mind, of the heart, of the spirit. I tasted all of them, I fed on all of them, I quenched My thirst with all of them, to the extent that I died of them.

    If you laid your lips on Mine, you would taste the bitterness that they still retain of so much sorrow. If you could see My Human nature in its appearance, which is now refulgent, you would see that that refulgence emanates from the countless wounds that like a garment of living purple covered My limbs, lacerated, exsanguinated, beaten, pierced for your sake. My Human nature is now refulgent. But one day it was like that of a leper, so fiercely it had been struck and humiliated. The Man-God, Who had in Himself the perfection of physical handsomeness, being the Son of God and of the immaculate Woman, to those who cast loving, curious, or scornful, or evil glances at Him, seemed a "worn", as David says, the scorn of mankind, the jest of people.

    My love for My Father and for My Father's children led Me to abandon My body to those who struck Me, to offer My face to those who slapped Me and spat at Me, to those who thought they were doing a meritorious deed by tearing My hair and My beard, piercing My head with thorns, making the earth and its fruits accomplices of the tortures inflicted on their Saviour, dislocating My limbs, laying bare My bones, tearing off My garments, thus offending My purity in the most cruel manner, nailing Me to a piece of wood and lifting Me up like a slaughtered lamb on to the hooks of a butcher, and barking around Me, while I was in agony, like a pack of ravenous wolves made even wilder by the smell of blood.

    I was accused, condemned, killed, betrayed, disowned, sold. I was abandoned even by God, because I was burdened with the crimes I had taken upon Myself. They made Me poorer than a beggar spoiled by highwaymen, because they did not even leave Me My tunic to cover My livid nakedness of a martyr. Even after My death I was not spared the insult of a wound and the slander of enemies. I was overwhelmed by all the dirt of your sins, I was hurled down as far as the bottom of the darkness of sorrow, deprived of the light of Heaven that might reply to My dying eyes, and of the divine voice that might answer My last invocation.

    Isaiah explains the reason for so much grief: "He has really taken our evils upon Himself and ours are the sorrows He has carried".
    Our sorrows! Yes, I carried them on your behalf! To relieve yours, to mitigate them, to cancel them, had you been faithful to Me. But you did not want to be so. And what did I gain by it? You "looked at Me as if I were a leper, one struck by God". Yes, the leprosy of your infinite sins was upon Me, it was on Me like a garment of penance, like a cilice; but how did you not see God shine forth, in His infinite love, from that garment worn on His holiness on your behalf?
    "He was wounded through our wickedness, and pierced through our crimes" says Isaiah, who with his prophetic eyes saw that the Son of man had become one huge sore to heal those of men. If they had only bruised My body!

    But what you most wounded, was My feelings and spirit. You made a laughing stock and butt of both; and you struck Me in the friendship that I had given you, through Judas; in the loyalty that I hoped to receive from you, through Peter who disowned Me; in the gratitude for My favours, through those who shouted at Me: "death to Him!", after I had cured them from so many diseases; through love, because of the torture inflicted on My Mother; through religion, calling Me a blasphemer of God, whereas out of zeal for the cause of God I had put Myself in the hands of man by becoming incarnate, suffering throughout My life and surrendering to human ferocity without uttering a word or complaining.

    A glance would have been sufficient to incinerate accusers, judges and executioners. But I had come spontaneously to accomplish the sacrifice, and like a lamb, because I was the Lamb of God and I shall be so for ever, I allowed men to take Me to be stripped and killed, so that I might make a Life for you of My Flesh.

    When I was lifted up, I was already consumed by sufferings with no name, with all the names. I began to die at Bethlehem, seeing the light of the Earth, so distressingly different for Me Who was the Living Being in Heaven. I continued to die in poverty, in exile, in flight, in work, in incomprehension, in fatigue, in betrayal, in torn affections, in torture, in falsehood, in blasphemy. I had come to re-unite man to God, and that is what man gave Me!

    Mary, look at your Saviour. He is not dressed in white, and His hair is not fair. His eyes are not the sapphire hue that you know. His garment is stained with blood, it is worn out and covered with dirt and spittle. His face is tumefied and twisted, His eyes are veiled with blood and tears, and He looks at you through the crust formed by them and by the dust that makes His eyelids heavy. My hands - can you see them? - are one big sore and are awaiting the last Wounds.

    Look at Me, little John, as your brother John looked at Me. My footprints are stained with blood. Perspiration washes away the blood that drops from the wounds made by the scourges, and that is still left after the agony in the Garden. Words come out of My parched bruised lips in the painful panting of My heart that is already dying through all kinds of torture.

    From now on you will often see Me like this. I am the King of sorrows and I will come in My regal dress to speak to you of My sorrow. Although you are in agony, follow Me. As I am the Merciful One, I shall be able to put also the scented honey of more serene contemplations before your lips, poisoned by My sorrow. But you must still prefer these ones, smeared with blood, because it is through them that you have the Life, and you will be able to take the Life to other people. Kiss My bleeding hand and be vigilant when meditating on Me, the Redeemer. »


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    Poem

    Post Wed Jul 08, 2020 2:34 pm by Poem

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    Book 5
    Chp: The Passion
    Page: 523


    Jesus says to me this morning, the 11th February, at 7.30:

    « Yesterday evening I wanted to speak to you only of Myself, a prey to suffering, because I have begun the description and visions of My sorrows. Yesterday evening it was the introduction. And you were so exhausted, My friend! But before the agony comes back again, I must reproach you gently.

    Yesterday morning you were selfish. You said to your spiritual Father: "Let us hope that I shall be able to hold out, because my fatigue is greater". No. His is greater, because it is hard and is not compensated by the bliss of seeing visions and of having Jesus present, as you have Him, also in His holy Human nature. Never be selfish, not even in the least things. A woman disciple, a little John, must be very humble and charitable, like her Jesus.

    And now come and stay with Me. "The flowers have appeared… the pruning time has come… the voice of the little turtle-dove has been heard in the country… " And they are the flowers that have come up in the pools of Blood of your Christ. And He Who will be cut off like a pruned branch is the Redeemer. And the voice of the turtle-dove, calling the bride to a sorrowful holy wedding banquet, is Mine, for I love you.

    Rise and come, as today's Mass says. Come to contemplate and suffer. It is the gift that I grant My beloved one. »
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