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Often, as I pray, kneeling before Mass, I close my eyes and envision Jesus, crowned with thorns, standing before me in white and golden vestments. We are together, in a darken room, almost a corridor of sorts, and I am staring at Him intently, longing for His forgiveness. I can see His thorns, prominently on top of His head , looking almost regal, like a mighty King. I can see His lips being swallowed up by His shaggy beard, and even His rough, wounded hands, but never can I see His eyes! His eyes are always covered by the shadows of the darken room, seeming to hide from me.
In my “side” project of narrating “The Imitation of Christ” by Thomas a Kempis I have been blown away by the boldness […]
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The Twenty-Eighth Chapter of The Imitation of Christ Strength Against Slander The Voice of Christ “MY CHILD, do not take it to […]