December 18, 1945prev home next
Jesus says:
“Thirteen years ago I sealed you under the weight of infirmity, breaking your word and activity. You had to save for years through pain. Then I made you a fountain to save through the Word. I made you a ‘spokesman.’ Today, my hidden violet, I authorize you to make use of the things you have heard and seen. With prudence, without avarice, with holiness and for a holy end.
“It was my clear and firm desire that no one could draw from the reservoir into which my Word is poured through you unless it was first filled completely. But since there was a wish to draw from it drop by drop - and, in reality, I did not like this very much because it is imprudent and diminishes the work - it is foolish to suffocate every breath of the original fount when the water it gives forth is not gathered afterwards into tanks to be used at the proper time and with adequate precaution and protection so that it will not be contaminated by foreign elements or appropriated or anything else, but it is subdivided and scattered into a thousand streams, losing its imposing beauty, being dispersed into the profane aridity of a more or less rationalistic and incredulous desert, and, in addition, being used for the maneuvers of mocking, hostile spirits.
“Therefore, little John, when you see that my word can become ‘balm’ and salvation, give my word. Do not be afraid. You will clearly see who it is good to give it to. The Light illuminates you.
“And pray very, very much for the priests who will go up to the altar for the first time during these feast days. May theirs be a true Christmas. A birth to Christ, with Christ, and for Christ. There is need for this. Having holy priests will not keep you from having wars and massacres. But it will at least prevent your all dying like beasts as you are starting to do. I should - oh, I really should! - repeat the act of driving the profaners out of the Temple! I am deeply disgusted. Violet of the Cross, pray for the ministers of your Jesus....
“Go in peace, soul of mine, my crucified one, my voice, my daughter, my joy....”
And He clasps my face with his long hands, bending so low over me that his hair brushes against my forehead and his breath is upon my face.