The following “letter” is to be discerned. The letter is titled “Letter to my precious sons, Priests of God” The letter was dictated by Jesus to living Mystic. (The person wants to remain anonymous).
Letter to my precious sons, Priests of God
You have been called to holiness and it is I alone who called you. And to what have I called you? I have called you to be light in a very dark world. I called you to be music in a desolate place, to be strength for my people are weak, to be comfort to the weary, chastiser to the arrogant, missionary to the heathen and prophet to the many. I called you to healing for the sick, to open the eyes of the blind and ears of the deaf. I called you to be balm to the wounded and charisma for the faithful. I called you to prayer and to intercession and I called you to poverty of the soul.
I sent you out poor and meek and homeless. I sent you out to the desert to plant the flowers of my love. I sent you to strike the rock and let water gush forth for my people are languishing in the sands of earth. I sent you out to clear away the weeds of perdition. I sent you to a flock of sheep with no master lost and afraid and I sent you with my staff of correction and my heart of a shepherd.
I speak to you now with filial love. I charge you with my fire to cover the earth; to bring into flame the Spirit of God. Torch the earth with my agape love. My people are kindling, my people are kindling and the spark is your word preached out of your hearts. You have forgotten my dictates and grown weary with waiting. You are stony from burdens and cold from solitude. My sons, you are leaven ground beneath boulders and beaten into the earth so that you will fragrance the bread and multiply the yield. You are poured out as libations to the profit of my glory and you are sent into the land which is hostile and thorny to pluck from the briars my tender infants.
Your eyes are clouded and scales blind them to the misery of my people’s shackles. They are crying and weeping in their caves of dampness. They are hungry and thirsty in their cells of darkness. They long for the light and the milk of compassion, the fruit of the vine, the bread of substance; the dawn of morning, the blast of the trumpet. Their tortured souls strain for the key to be placed in the lock; for the bars to be thrown open and the air of freedom to reach their lungs.
My people are perishing for lack of knowledge. Revive them! Breathe my spirit upon them. Speak to them with conviction. Speak the truth to them with authority. Fear not their response; speak the truth as a soldier fights a battle with passion and fire and fidelity. Speak the truth no matter how it will be received for I tell you they will respond with vigor. They long for the truth. They will hear it and it will set them free. Think not, what will they say what will they think? Be true to my gospel and speak it out with power and authority. It will produce fruit in abundance.
You are weary my sons. I know of your fatigue and I know of your desire. The world seems to you now as granite, hardened clods that cannot be penetrated. You have forgotten the rain. When you speak out my words with force and power I will send the rain and moisten the field. I will be in your words. My power will rend the hearts of the sinner, break through the walls of their castles, I will lance open their sins and gush out their disease and you my people will bandage their wounds. Have you forgotten that I commanded you to go forth? Did I send you to destruction? Did I run you off a cliff? No. I set you on thrones. I raised you above and placed you on Horeb and sounded the trumpet so that all must look to you for their healings.
Think of David the shepherd who faced the giant. His desire for my glory was shield and weapon. You are more powerful than David. But learn from his heart for He loved me above all else and he faced the might of Goliath fearlessly solely out of love for my glory. My glory surrounds you and my power my weapons are placed in your humble hands. My glory is before you in the rising and behind you in the night. My light is your beacon as you navigate in the darkness. Fear not the darkness for you have my shining radiance with you always. Light the world with my glory. Shine my countenance in the darkness. Fear not for I am with you.
Think of Peter my rock. Think of his weakness and his faults and meditate on his stumbling and his denial of me in my darkest hour and know that I have called you to this work of mine. It is my treasure. It is the jewel of my father’s heart and I have placed it in your unworthy hands to distribute without cost to the many.
My sons, I am aware of your doubts and your long suffering fidelity. I know you hoe and weed and plow and water and your fruit withers on the vine. I see you weeping at my altar tears of misery and discouragement and I long to rouse you from desolation. I tell you tenderly to hold on to my hand for I am your Simon.
My sons, I tell you now to listen. You will know if these words are mine or not for the Spirit will discern them in your hearts. You have forgotten urging. So I remind you today with urgency to rise up from your misery and put on the robe of gladness and sing a new song in your heart. I charge you to lead my people Israel from the land of the pharaoh into the land of their fathers promised through all generations into the marvelous light. Into your hands I have placed my power and it is a power of dynamic force; more powerful than atomic strength. In your hands is life and death. When you bless the bread it BECOMES my body, do you not see the power to bless my people? When you make the sign of the cross, which is my throne of glory, and say the words, “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit”, do you not see you have blessed my people with the triune God?
When you say the words of absolution do you not see the glory spring forth from Heaven as my child’s muddy soul is washed in the baptismal fount again and again? Out of your mouth come my forgiveness or my condemnation; my blessing or my curse. BLESS my people. Speak the words of salvation to them and set my captives free, they have been bound in prisons too long. I long for their freedom.
My people perish from lack of knowledge. You have been given the words of eternal life, eternal Life. Meditate on eternity. Souls are in your hands. Eternal destinies are in your hands.
My house is open to all my children.
My church is not made of bricks, stone and mortar. My church is made of flesh and blood, sweat and tears, pain and suffering, joy and peace. My church is made of resurrection power and the fire of the Holy Spirit. My church is made of human hearts and human souls. I am the cornerstone and the planks are the suffering offered up by my people. The walls are constructed using my saints both on earth and borrowed from my glorious home. The light you see shining is the radiance of my glory and the holiness that flows from the deeds of my children mixed with the oil of my redemption. You have forgotten that my church was made from the fire of the Holy Spirit and placed in temples of clay and flesh. My church was designed without windows or doors, without locks or bolts, without bars or barriers. My church is a refuge for travelers and pilgrims to sit at my feet and hear tales of my love, to eat and to drink and to rest and gain their strength for the journey is lonely and wearisome and frightening for those who sojourn on the road to my home.
My child is mortal and his flesh is weak. The wolf pursues him with evil desire. He flees from his misery and calls out my name and I send YOU, my representative shepherd to call him to safety and even lay down your life for his soul is tender and he cannot find shelter or safety alone. You are his guide, you are his master. He depends on your wisdom, the knowledge I gave you, the word I have spoken. Bring him back to the flock for his safety is in your hands.
A shepherd does not govern from within his hovel; he goes to the country and stays with the flock. He eats and drinks his meager portion and shares what he has with those more in need. A shepherd is attired with clothing for working the fields of my pasture. Yet I have attired you with Heavens garments.
I speak to you now of the desires of my heart. My eyes burn with tears I have shed for my children, I gaze on them with longing and pity. They flee from your care, your guidance and instructions; they race toward the cliffs with reckless ambition. They lie down and refuse to follow your call.
You are their shepherd. By nature they will listen when you devote yourself to their care. Some are cold and only you can warm them. Some are broken and only you can repair. I work though you. You dream but I inspire. You speak but I command. You think but I am wisdom. You work, but I move your effort. You bless but I am your authority.
The sins you hear from my children’s lips are forgiven from the depths of my essence for I burn their chaff in the fire of my love. You speak the words of absolution as I purify their silver in my radiant flame of desire. You feed their souls with my magnanimous passion. You clothe their nakedness with my garments of gold. I lay crowns on their heads, you must remind them. Tell them I love them with unending glory. Tell them I surround them within and without.
Tell them I am present even in their darkest hour, especially in their darkest hour. Convince them of my fidelity by showing them your paternal soul. They are not fatherless yet they feel orphaned. They are not motherless for my mother is their treasure. Show them her face, show them her courage, show them her tenderness, how she wept for my wounds, how she grieved for my agony, how she manifested faith against all doubt. How she bowed low in my presence when I walked in the room and marveled at my grace and kissed me tenderly with maternal piety. Honor my mother in your own daily lives and place her image in the souls of my people. She offers her intercession to me without ceasing and desires all her children, my children to come to the Father and receive from Him His mighty love, His exalted blessing, his glowing presence for all eternity. She intercedes without ending. She does not grow weary with her exalted work, nor does she even mumble a words of fatigue or complaint for her entire being groans for her children’s repentance, redemption and eternal rest.
Is the task I have called you to do a boulder that presses your face to the earth or a rose you tenderly pick from my heart? Is the work I have given you a sweet fragrance or have you no need of my friendship? I am more than your friend although I am truly devoted to our enduring bond. No I am more than your friend, I am your kinship, and your blood flows from my veins, your flesh came from my treasured spark of immortality.
With me, there is no time. No beginning and no end; all time is earthly. You were conceived in my perpetual moment. Your soul lives in my perpetual being. The bond we share is like no other. No other mortal man can understand what we have contracted. Even couples who are sanctified at your altars can not experience the solidified oneness that I have enjoined on your soul when you gave your fiat to me.
My heart extracts fidelity from my servants; my people’s lives are spent in frivolity and mundane repetition. They toil endlessly in their labors to attain their substance and yet they remain unsatisfied. They perpetually hunger and thirst longing for satiety. When you offer my flesh up to the Father, The Father rejoices in immeasurable completeness. Tell my people of this action. Show them; by the way you make this offering that it is valuable beyond their imaginings. When you lift me high, adore me with longing and allow my people to witness your reverence. Is my mass habitual and repetitious to you now? That is because your embers burn low and you have been so long without a response from my people but I respond with fiery ardor.
When you look to the Heavens, see my burning gaze cast down into your eyes. I am showering you with my treasury of unending grace. When your eyes look to me now, remember that promise I made to you when you swore to me your fidelity and know that I never weary of returning that gaze. Say your Mass as though it were your first, your last and your only one. My people will witness your passion for me and they will drop to their knees in Holy reverence and by your example will offer their souls into my care. Every word that comes out of your mouth is my word to my people. Every kindness, every curse; is heard from earth to Heaven from Heaven to earth. Know that every praise you utter with your true heart in authentic worship is a blast of the trumpet. Shout my praises to me in secret and offer my praises before my people with joyful acclimation and you will produce abundant fruit and I will be forced to send you laborers to reap your harvest.
Remember Peter in the boat on the lake? He fished all day and caught nothing. BUT, at my command he hauled in abundance. Did you forget that I knew where the fish are? Did you forget that they respond to my call? Did you forget that it is I who know how to fish? Cast your net with blind conviction that it is I who will place the abundant load in your net. Why do you labor in your toil and forget that I commanded you to work? And it is I who will accomplish the task. Never again throw that net by your own strength or power but rather throw with steadfast faith knowing that it is I who will fill your boat.
About the words from Jesus from Mystic: