DAILY CATHOLIC   EASTER SUNDAY    April 4, 1999    vol. 10, no. 65


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      These Meditative Lessons on the Glorious Mysteries of the Rosary which encompass the time from the Tomb through the Ascension were imparted via both interior visions and interior locutions to Cyndi Cain, the Hidden Flower of the Immaculate Heart from the Blessed Mother of God after Pentecost in 1993. Cyndi relates that, "while I saw many details in these interior visions, only certain details were to be written down. Therefore, these lessons are not meant to be a detailed geographical or historical account, nor are they meant to pinpoint all the intricate details one might wish to have knowledge of regarding the time of of the Resurrection and beyond...for the importance of each lesson lies not in the descriptive passage or dialogue, but in Our Lady's own meditations which follow each interior vision. These meditations are meant to strengthen us in our faith during this our exile - particularly in these end times when the Holy Catholic Church will be ripped apart by apostasy and schism...for Our Blessed Mother wants our faith to be as strong as an anchor. For our faith to be such, we must have the faith of a simple, little child." As an added bonus for Easter we bring the special chapter on the Resurrection to you and ask the Holy Spirit to give all the enlightenment and discernment to learn and grow from these meditative lessons that all may persevere in the time of the Great Darkness which looms ever closer. For those who would like the complete works of "My Lord and my God", as well as the books on the Joyful Mysteries - "Come, Let us Adore Him", and the Sorrowful Mysteries - "It is Consummated!", click on BOOKS.

Meditative Lesson 6:


part one

      Dear Father, how gracious is Our Lord. He has allowed these Lessons/Meditations to come at a much slower pace, so that, in my illness, I can do a proper job in writing what I am given to see 'interiorly', and to hear fully all our Blessed Mother relates. Only God's strength has enabled me to go to Mass and receive Him. Only He I s holding the pen and helping me to fulfill His Divine Will. Thus, on Sunday, Our Lady gently urges me to continue. I have tested the voice and I begin.
"He is not here, but is risen. Remember how He spoke unto you, when He was yet in Galilee."
Luke 24: 6
          I have left the room of the Blessed Mother. I am back in the garden where our Lord's tomb is situated. It is difficult for me to know the time. It is truly dark; there are stars in the black canopy of the heavens, but there is no bright moonlight.

          I notice the three Roman soldiers. They are sound asleep, having wrapped their mantles about their bodies as blankets against the chill. They have no comfortable position, leaning against rocks, their bodies stretched upon hard, damp ground. I am given to understand that these soldiers, as all Roman soldiers, are accustomed to a truly rugged life. Their sleep is deep, due partly to the wine they have consumed and the deep sleep God permits them to have as His glorious plan for mankind unfolds.

          I feel myself drawn closer to the tomb. I move until I am perhaps fifteen to twenty feet from the massive stone slab covering the entrance to the tomb.

          Suddenly, I hear the most wondrous sound. It is a sound of harmonious voices raised in song. It is a heavenly sound for I am instantly lifted up in my soul and then can understand the words of this angelic song.

          "Glory to God Who is everlasting. All Praise to the Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Rejoice all Heaven and earth, for the Son of God has truly triumphed. Death has been conquered. He has kept His promise, and now the Glory of God is revealed."

          And to my eyes, in this interior vision, it seems as if all darkness is forever dispelled. There is no 'night' as I beheld it only a moment ago. There is light-everywhere-indescribable, brilliant, emanating from a source that, I am given to understand, is the very Life of all Creation, God Himself. And still I am given to understand that what I am given to see is but a mere fraction of this glorious light, this Power and Majesty which causes all creation to have its being.

          Within this wondrous light, more magnificent than any human words can describe are those beings who take their form from the light. These heavenly beings, angels, fill the vault of the heavens and seem to draw closer to the earth, bringing this splendid light with them.

          Why can not the Roman soldiers hear such glory, for it is glory that approaches? Even in their sated sleep the sound must penetrate, for I can feel the earth beneath my feet tremble at the sound. Not a trembling as on Good Friday when the earth shook and was rent asunder. This is the trembling of awe, of respect before the Almighty. The light is almost too brilliant to behold. I know the Good Lord supports me, and allows me to 'see' that which no mortal eye could behold. I want to run forward, to shout and wake the soldiers, but I cannot move, and my eyes remain fixed. I am looking east, where the pre-dawn sky will soon form, developing its rose-purple hues, changing to pink, and then transforming to gold. East, where the new day is approaching, is yet veiled by night's overwhelming shadows.

          And with my eyes thus transfixed, I see even brighter than the light, which Heaven has sent to illuminate the earth, a light of gold. It is so intense, so pulsating and dazzling, that all the other heavenly light pales by comparison. I do not think of time. I do not think time exists in what I am privileged to see. It can only be expressed thus: On the far eastern horizon, I behold what I describe as an orb of resplendent gold. It seems to remain in position and then, suddenly, with speed beyond my ability to describe, this golden orb moves. To say it 'shoots' or 'streaks' the sky is to be foolhardy, relying on finite words to describe the infinite. This movement can best be described as moving from the far eastern horizon to the very garden where I stand transfixed, in less than a second. And this golden orb comes with the sound of a great wind, accompanied by an ever-increasing sound of angel voices whose voices rise higher and higher in praise.

          The golden orb pierces, without making either mark or sound, the great stone slab in front of the tomb, and in the tiny cracks where the seal is not perfect, golden light spills out into the garden. It is so intense that the tome cannot contain it. It is spilling out upon the ground, touching the soldiers. This light pierces even the one soldier atop the tomb.

          I feel myself fall to my knees in the sight of God's glory! I am given to understand that the golden orb is the Divine Soul of our Dear Lord. The soul, so beautiful as to surpass all beauty, enters into the tomb.

          I am not permitted to see our Blessed Lord's soul re-enter His Sacred Body, for I am told that this shall be revealed to the just in Heaven, so great and glorious a mystery it is! So magnificent that human intelligence cannot grasp its significance, nor give due praise to the Father from Whom all life emanates, and is meant to reflect a semblance of this same golden light as I have seen representing Jesus' soul. The praises of the angels have reached a crescendo! No human voice could come close; no human instrument could ever repeat the sound. At its height I realize that the light is actually coming through the rock, straight through it. And in awe, in deepest respect, I behold walking through the rock the resurrected body, glorified, of Jesus Christ, God and Savior.

          I bow, lying prostrate before Him. He is beyond description. I cannot begin to find a single word. The destruction, which His mortal body underwent from Holy Thursday till His death upon the cross, has been totally annihilated. From Him radiates, pulsates, beams of golden rays of light that pierce, penetrate, and probe the creature. I am awash in this light. The soldiers are also, but they remain unaware of it. I do not understand why.

          My beloved Jesus is suspended above the ground. He is clothed in snow-white garments that, for me, seem to be woven of light. There is only resplendence, and I am drawn to look at His hands, His feet, and His Sacred side, where the nails pierced, where the soldier's lance pierced, fountains, oceans of light stream outward as Jesus still gives Himself to us. Though I do not move, nor do I utter any words, yet I realize my Jesus sees me. He smiles with such Love, and I am at once encased in the warmth of His Loving, Merciful Embrace. I am drawn to Him. I do not ever desire to leave Him, my Lord and my God. Jesus smiles, and His hand is raised in blessing. Then as quickly as all of these miracles have transpired, my Jesus is gone, and the darkness of night, or rather early morning, once again fills the garden, and the soldiers slumber on.

          But my soul, wretched and miserable, has beheld my God. I am filled with joy beyond words, and pure hope lifts me to my feet. He has given me His Peace. It is part of His Glory. I cling to it, savor and treasure it as the interior vision ends.

NEXT INSTALLMENT: Part Two - Our Lady's Meditation of "He is Risen! Alleluia!"

April 4, 1999       volume 10, no. 65


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