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This morning my sweet Jesus was not coming. I had not seen Him since last night, when He showed Himself with an appearance that moved one to pity and struck fear at the same time. He wanted to hide so as not to see the chastisements which He Himself was sending over the people and the way in which He was to destroy them. Oh, God, what a harrowing sight, never before seen! While waiting and waiting, in my interior I kept saying: ‘How is it that He is not coming? Who knows whether He does not come because I do not conform to His Justice? But how can I do this? It seems almost impossible for me to say "Fiat Voluntas Tua".’ Then, again, I kept saying: ‘He is not coming because the confessor is not sending Him to me.’ Now, while I was thinking of this, I just barely saw Him, almost a shadow, and He told me: "Do not fear, the authority of priests is limited. According to the measure in which they are willing to pray Me to come to you, and to offer you as victim to make you suffer so that I may spare the people, so will I heal them and spare them in the act in which I send the chastisements. If then they don’t give it a thought, neither will I have any regard for them." Having said this, He disappeared, leaving me in a sea of affliction and of tears.
