The Book of Heaven
—Unofficial Version—

January 14, 1934

Sweet enchantment on both sides - God and the creature. How she acquires the power to make the Divine Will her own. Pains smile before the glory, the triumphs, the conquests. Jesus, hidden by the pains.

I am under the rain of the Divine Fiat which, bathing me completely, inside and out, and penetrating even into the marrow of my bones, makes the whole of my poor being say:  ‘Fiat, Fiat, Fiat.’  I feel I am in Its arms, and as I call It with my incessant plea for It to form Its life in my acts, Its heartbeat in my heart, Its breath in mine, Its thought in my mind, so is a flash of light unleashed from me and it would want to as though bind the Holy Divine Volition, to make It completely my own, so that it may be in my power to form Its life in me, all of Divine Will.  So, I felt concerned about this way of acting of mine, and my highest Good, Jesus, repeating His short little visit, all goodness, told me:  “My little daughter of my Will, you must know that as the creature invokes, calls, my Fiat, imploring Its life to be formed within hers, so does she unleash light and forms an enchantment to God, which enraptures His divine pupil which, enraptured, looks at the creature and forms in her the requital of Its sweet enchantment and the void in the act of the creature, to be able to give and enclose in her act the Divine Will.  And while It forms and carries out Its life, the happy creature acquires the power to make It her own; and because It is her own, she loves It powerfully, more than her own life.  My daughter, as long as my Will is not held as one’s own life, exclusively one’s own, which no one can take away from her - even though she knows that it is a gift received from God and, though something received, she is already fortunate and victorious to have the possession of it - she will never be able to love my Divine Will as befits It, nor feel the need of Its life; nor will my Will be able to carry out, fully, with all freedom, Its divine life in the creature.  Therefore, your calling It disposes you; as you make It your own, It will make Itself known and you will feel the great good of possessing Its life, and you will love It as It deserves to be loved, and you will be jealous to keep It with such attention as to lose not even one breath of It.”

Then, as I was a little more in suffering than usual, I was thinking to myself:  ‘Oh! how I would love for my pains to form for me the wings to let me fly to my Celestial Fatherland.’  And instead of afflicting me, my little pains were making feast to me.  I felt concerned about it, and my beloved Jesus added:  “My daughter, do not be surprised; in the face of glory, the pains smile, they feel triumphant in seeing the conquests they have acquired.  The pains confirm and establish the glory, more or less great, in the creature; and according to the pains, so does she feel, being painted within her, the most beautiful and various tints of beauty; and in seeing themselves being transformed into the rarest beauty, they make feast.  So, on earth the pains cry, at the doors of Heaven begins their eternal smile that will never end.  On earth the pains are bearers of humiliation, at the eternal gates they are bearers of glory.  On earth they render the poor creature unhappy, but by the miraculous secret that they possess, they work - deep inside her inmost fibers and in the whole of the human being - the Eternal Kingdom, in such a way that each pain takes on its own distinct office:  one acts as chisel, another as hammer, another as file, another as brush, another as color.  And only when each pain has fulfilled its work, then do they leave the creature entrusted to them, and they lead her, triumphant, up to Heaven.  And only when they see each pain changed into a distinct joy and perennial happiness, then do they let her go.  However, only if the creature receives them with love, and feels and receives in each pain the kiss, the embraces, the tight squeezes of my Divine Will, then do the pains possess this miraculous virtue.  Otherwise, they become as if they had no instruments apt to fulfilling their work. 

But do you want to know who the pain is?  The pain is I, who hide inside of it to form the arcane works for my Celestial Fatherland, and I requite at usury^[1] the brief dwelling that they have given Me on earth.  I have imprisoned Myself in the small prison of the creature in order to continue my life of pains down here; it is just for this life of mine to receive its joys, its happinesses, its exchange of glory in the Celestial Region.  Therefore, let your surprise cease in hearing that your pains smile before the victories, the triumphs and the conquests.”

Fiat!!!

^[1] that is, with unimaginable disproportionate abundance