My vision: The greatest torment of a soul who fervently prayer is longing for god

March 13, 2026, Friday

The first light of dawn was barely kissing the sky as I stepped into the Church of the Heart of Jesus and Mary. It was 5:30 AM, and a profound silence enveloped the sacred space, broken only by the gentle whispers of the early morning breeze filtering through the open church doors. I was clad in a simple black T-shirt, bearing the image of Divine Mercy, a quiet testament to the devotion I carried in my heart. Today, my intention was clear: to pray the Rosary for the conversion of a sinner and to offer the Divine Mercy Chaplet.

Being the sole occupant of the church at such an hour brought a unique sense of peace. The stillness was palpable, allowing for an unhindered connection with the divine. After completing my prayers, I lingered for a while, soaking in the tranquility. A slight boredom, however, soon crept in, and my thoughts drifted to the anointing oil I carried – a small vial with the sweet, earthy scent of myrrh.

A spontaneous urge led me to the Cross of Jesus, situated at the entrance. With reverence, I poured the oil over His legs and feet. My journey then continued to the other statues of Jesus: one depicting Him in His tomb, another of His glorious resurrection, and a third burdened by the cross. One by one, with my bare hands, I applied the anointing oil to each sacred form. I had no handkerchief, but perhaps the direct contact made the act all the more personal, a humble offering of devotion.

Returning to the front of the church, I sat and waited for the novena to begin, anticipating the arrival of others. As the novena commenced, and we were halfway through, a vivid vision pierced my consciousness, feeling intensely real. My gaze fell upon the Virgin Mary window design, and an overwhelming sorrow washed over me, so potent it felt as if I were on the verge of a silent scream, a deep, guttural cry. Yet, only a faint moisture gathered in my eyes.

Later, back in the comfort of my home, I savored the macaroni my sister had thoughtfully brought for me. With a full stomach, I settled down to read my Divine Mercy book, a treasured companion detailing the revelations to Saint Faustina. A particular line struck me with profound resonance: "the greatest torment of a soul who fervently praying is longing for god." In that moment, the vision at the church resurfaced. I remembered those souls who, perhaps, only knew how to pray the Rosary, unaware of other powerful devotions like the Divine Mercy Chaplet. I felt a deep empathy for them, these souls yearning to connect with Jesus, to worship Him, even if through the simplest of prayers. It reinforced my own desire to be utterly devoted to Him, to deepen that longing and seek Him in every possible way.

Until Next Time,

Yuna