Road of the Cross of Lord Jesus


open My Heart to you, and My thoughts are returning to those moments piercing My Heart with pain. My Heart died and was resurrected from the dead, but before dying, it has been immersed in an agony lasting many hours. From the first moment, when I sensed in it this hour, until the great glory of the Resurrection.

I saw My Child again in Pilate’s courtyard. He had the entire head entwined with pieces of pointy thorns. This pain was unimaginable, because the thorns, a moment before still alive, were now located in a living body and were carving out their place in it, as if they were looking for a comfortable resting place, as if they were entering deeper into the depths of the head of My Son. The immaculate mind, the eternal Wisdom, whose greatness was already a torment on Earth, now has been painfully tied, so it might not shine upon the unwise mankind. My poor Child, exposed to public view in His greatest humiliation, because those who wanted to call Him the king of Israel are now laughing at His misery. The brave, the leaders who could rally people behind them, were missing. The friends of the Savior, full of fear, were hiding in their houses so that may be fulfilled what was foretold by the prophets: “I was calling for help, but no one heard me out”. What a torment it was for Jesus to suffer such terrible pain among general laughter and an unending avalanche of insults and offensive comparisons. My human ears experienced the greatest suffering. I ripped out those disgraceful words from the lips of unfaithful persecutors and I smoothed them out with the strength of My tender whispers to the glory of My tortured Son. I joined them with the angles accompanying Me, so that the soul of Christ may hear the hymn of adoration: “Oh My Son, let forever be praised Your Majesty and glory. Crush Your Mother together with You, may She not breath in the air of sin, which hurts you so cruelly”.

I hear that the uproar has reached its peak and Jesus has been proclaimed guilty. Guilty of everything that is the worst, so He must die. Our law, the law that I have been observing faithfully, has been defiled. The high priests, burdened with a mortal fault, together with their arrogant speech, drew blood upon themselves, their children, their wives, their disciples, their followers, their cities and the entire Jewish nation: “His Blood be upon us and upon our children”. Oh how blind is the hate, the daughter of pride, when it starts murdering – it murders all, those far away and those near, until finally, making a full cruel circle, it murders the murderer himself. I will not manage to describe how long this monstrous quarrel lasted and how great was the patience of the Condemned. Thus, I was waiting together with Him for these final words, spoken to Him by those, for whom He came down on Earth: “We do not want You, we do not want Salvation, deceiver!” they screamed at His sight. I can not say the other things, even though I wish that your hearts may unite with Mine in pain, I can not.

Now that the whole world has betrayed his God again, and it seemed as if Heaven and Earth conspired against Him, everything happened very fast. People moved about from their place to see in the best way as much blood as possible. I forced My way through with them, and their unclean thoughts touched Me in a repulsive way, as if My Heart found itself in Hell. All wished for His death, a cruel death: “The Cross! – they screamed – Yes, the cross! They are going to crucify Him! Very well, He will be exalted as He wanted!”. O despicable lips, what pain they inflict. No, I could not listen any longer this upheaval of demons, to their cruel delight. I, the Mother, had to sing My song of praise, My pain compounded its power. I did not fear anyone and anything, because in the world in which the Savior is not wanted, there is no longer anything to fear. Nothing worse can happen.

In My thoughts, I was forcing My way through the painful thorns of all the images, sounds and feelings to find Myself finally beside Him: pure, an oasis of love and peace, free, a safe abode for His eyes. My beloved was accepting this punishment, was stretching His arms to His cross as to His dearest bride. Are you able to love in such a way the Will of the Father? Make it your bride? The sight of Jesus embracing the cross with love gave Me new strength, thanks to which I could follow Him step by step, worshiping the earth upon which He stepped, and the air that He breathed through His bloody lips. The tongue, which has completely dried up, as a log was bothering Him in the mouth. This was a punishment for the blasphemies with which God is offended, for the holy names spoken without reverence, for the lies, the aspersions and the turpitude with which is sullied the tongue created by the Word.

Among the crowd of onlookers, there were many of those who found themselves there due to their stupidity and curiosity. A very small handful of disciples of Jesus, who came to pray and to accompany in the Passion of the Savior. The sweet lips of My Son breathed with pain, as if swallowing air caused Him pain. I noticed Him then, when He fell crushed by His cross. The ropes, with which He was tied, were encroaching into His Body, into the fresh wounds, and were not helping Him to get up, but were entering into His Flesh, creating new wounds. My arms could not bear this view; they rushed towards Him with the invincible strength of maternal love. The eyes of My Jesus, overfilled with pain, upon seeing Me, told me everything. In one look, My Son expressed what would take entire books to narrate, countless books of wisdom suffering because of love. I understood every sentence, every smallest thought, every moan, and the sorrow recorded itself in My Heart, every passing torment imprinted itself in its memory. I saw every suffering, every sorrow, every pain and every joy of My Child. I found His face; I was learning it all My life, guessing His desires, guessing what He would say before he opened His mouth, My Son, My Only One. That one look was enough for us in place of a long conversation, a conversation that would last for years, because when you love, love talks about everything and answers to everything and nothing more is needed. Amen.



Fancy letter Write, My child, I wish to be today with you on My path of sorrow. You know that if I had to repeat this pain for the Salvation of so many sinners, I would have endured everything if this was the Will of God. But My daughter, this pain was so great that only through the grace of God I could contain it in My Heart and not die from the excess of bitterness. The meeting with My Son on the road of the cross has given Me a great strength to suffer, because love does impossible things and My persistence in pain beside My Child was impossible. It was impossible to endure this suffering and it was impossible to abandon the Child in such terrible circumstances.

Jesus was dying; I saw the life being extinguished in Him moment by moment. Alive also through the power of love, because man would have died long ago, but Jesus was not an ordinary man. He was a man in His nature, but in His spirit He was pure love, and it was this love that made Him so strong. He wanted with His entire aching Heart, mind, Spirit and body to accomplish the work of Redemption; He desired to carry the cross to the place of His death, to be nailed to it and to die covered with disgrace. Love surpasses everything that is human, and thus fear, pain, weakness. I walked behind Him filled with His strength, with which His agonizing spirit filled Me anew. My love was joining with His love and was telling Him words of comfort and encouragement and to suffer. I, who would have given My own life only to be able to tear Him away from the executioners, encouraged Him with My prayer to persevere and to submit to even worse tortures. Here is a miracle of love that does not speculate, does not reason, but loves.

The crowd follows Him. How I pity this crowd. I see how few of those who are today on the Golgotha will be healed by the Blood of Jesus, how few will receive this grace due to their obstinacy. The falls that Jesus experiences are terrible, because every time it seems that He will not be able to get up and every time He suffers a terrible temptation: to die, to surrender and die. But man will be redeemed only on the cross. Such a death, contrary to the Will of God, would have brought triumph to Satan, and not to God. He gets up, with the remnants of strength He gets up, lifted more by a superhuman strength than His own, which has already poured out in His Blood during this disgraceful road. This march is a procession of ignominy. In the midst of the crowd, the Redeemer, the Son of God, but the crowd sees only the cross. Thus, instead of obeisance and cries of praise, instead of glory, He receives what is due to the condemned: spitting, contempt, hatred, insults, curses and mockery. This road is filled with every kind of sin. Jesus passes over it like over a map of human downfall, treading over all the victories of Satan over human nature with his bloodied feet. Abominable is the road upon which He steps, upon which He ascends, but when He takes a step, while walking away, He leaves it pure, virginal and beautiful. The earth regains its brilliance, regains its dignity and hope, because it was sprinkled anew with Holy Blood, the blood of the God-Man. It is renewed, sanctified anew with the entire mankind, the new Earth and the new man, to the glory of the Most High God. Blessed is the One who forces His way through Hell to pave the way to Heaven. He will be followed by thousands of thousands and millions of millions of chosen ones, and following His footsteps, over the Blood left on His road and over the bits of His holy Flesh, they will enter where He entered. And thanks to those most precious footprints that Christ left on His road, they will reach Him, find Him and they will be saved. The Flesh and Blood of Jesus sanctify this road and fortify with His strength those who wish to follow Him, the weak children of men.

Here is the place – the mountain, upon which everything will end and everything will begin. I see the sun: it does not want to shine anymore, it does not want to shine for those who perpetrate the murder of God, it wants to close its eyes together with its Creator, it wants to go out together with Him. I suffer expecting the worst, I rejoice waiting for the fulfillment of the purpose of My life, the purpose of the life of My Child. We wait while suffering until this moment will come. Jesus rises up to receive the slap in the face from the creation. The One who dressed and adorned the whole Earth, flowers, trees, foxes and filed mice, gives up all covering, remains naked before the eyes of the world. This is the greatest humiliation for His Divinity, a torment for His Humanity, which accepts undergoing the most cruel penance. Look at Him, the beauty of His holy Body, which I nourished with such great care, changes into a terrible wound, a bloody wound, from under which I can hardly recognize My Son. However, this wound covers barely His Body; the Soul of Jesus is unchanging, burdened by unbearable pain, but unchanged. I feel its sweetness and brightness. A star above stars that shines in the darkness. My beloved, humiliated Son returns home, with humility gives back everything that He has received on Earth and returns to Heaven just as He was born. He accepts just a piece of cloth with which I have wrapped Him the first time, He accepts it from Me and for Me. It t is a gift for Me for this first nappy with which I have wrapped Him with the greatest reverence. The memory of His helplessness fills Me with pain, because today I also see His helplessness, equally great as the one when He was an infant. Then, however, He was lying in My hands, nestled in My Heart, caressed with love. Now, He is lying on the ground, in the hands of executioners, tortured with hate.  For My every kiss on the innocent hands, He receives a strike with a hammer and the blunt iron tears His Body. For every kiss on the tiny feet, He receives transpiercing pain.  Oh, how many times while kissing this little body, I felt pain in My Heart, waiting for its fulfillment. I wished to give Him so many kisses to make up in advance for those nails, to surround in advance His holy members with love.  I wanted to create an armor of love around His Body, so that after He might feel less the painful touch of hatred. My Child moans and My Heart screams out of pain. – I can not, My Son, I can not take you in My arms, I can not rock You today, I can not run towards You, I can not. What strength prevents Me from taking away My Child from them, I do not know. I cry out My soul before God, filling with My tears all the future altars. The sacrifice of My Heart now opened up completely, and if I had to pour out the blood from it, it would have covered the entire Earth.

For a moment there was silence, peace, as if all this was a bad dream, as if all this that was impossible to bear was not real. After all, this was too cruel to be true. Ah, those were just moments, seconds of relief for the mind, which is not able to grasp such cruelty. The cup spilled out, spilled out upon My Son and upon Me, His poor Mother. Now happens the raising. This moment will forever be immortalized in the mystery of the Holy Mass, but My Heart does not understand, My Heart can only agonize from pain; it is no longer able to grasp anything. In enormous suffering, Jesus is being raised above the world, so that the eyes of all sinners may see Him. Unspeakable pain is etched on His face. My body refuses to obey Me, now it also wishes to run away, swooning. No, I will stay beside Him, I will stay beside Him to the end. What I feared all My life happened. I have been waiting for this moment, bemoaning it from the first time when I felt its future bitterness. It accomplishes what all generations of the world are waiting for. Now I will not reach Him anymore, now I will not manage to smooth His hair until He dies, I will never again touch Him alive. Those thoughts pierce Me through and the agony of My Soul begins anew. I see His face, but I perceive His eyes with difficulty. I desire to be near, I desire to be a consolation, I have to hearten Him. What is My suffering in view of His suffering? I come back, catch a breath, for Him, for My Crucified Son.

Translated from: Tajemnica różańca świętego z rozważaniami różańcowymi dyktowanymi przez Matke Bożą, na podstawie na podstawie Orędzi na Czasy Ostateczne które własnie nadeszły, Grzechynia 2013, p. 71-81