Sunday, February 24, 2008
Return From the Gates of Hell (8th of a Series)
Colombia, South America Interview of Dr. Gloria Polo by Radio Maria
When my mom was giving me a hard time, I would say, Mom, if I’m lying to you, let a lightning bolt strike me!? And although the words faded in time, it is through the mercy of God that I’m here, because in reality lightning hit me, practically cutting me in half and burning me. They would show me how I, who called myself a Catholic, never kept my word and would always, use the Lord’s Holy Name in vain. It shocked me how the Lord passed by and all those horrible creatures would throw themselves on the ground in adoration. I saw the Blessed Virgin Mary prostrated at the Lord’s feet, praying for me in supplication, while I, a sinner deep in filth, kept my exchange with the Lord going. I thought myself so righteous! Complaining and cursing against the Lord. On keeping holy the Lord’s day, it was horrible and I felt intense pain; the voice would tell me how I would dedicate four or five hours to my body every day, but not even ten minutes of deep love to my Lord in thanksgiving or a simple prayer. I would start the rosary very quickly and I would say to myself ? I can finish the rosary while the commercials are on for my soap opera.? They showed me how I was never grateful toward the Lord. They also showed me what I used to say when I didn’t feel like going to Mass. ?But mom, God is everywhere, why do I need to go there?? Of course it was very convenient for me to say that. The voice would remind me how the Lord was watching over me 24 hours a day but I never prayed a little, or on Sunday to thank him, to show him any gratefulness or love; that going to church was the feeding of my soul. But I took care of my body instead. I was enslaved to my body and I forgot a tiny detail: I had a soul and I never took care of it. I never fed it with the word of God because I would rationalize that whoever read the word of God would go crazy. On the Sacraments, I had nothing. I used to say that I would never go to Confession with those old men who were far worse than me. I did it because it was very comfortable for me to do so in the midst of my filth. The evil one drove me away from Confession and that is how he took away cleanliness and healing from my soul, because every time I sinned, there was a price to pay: within the white purity of my soul, Satan would place his blemish, a blemish of darkness. Never, with the exception of my First Communion, did I make a good Confession. From that point on, I received my Lord unworthily. The lack of coherence of my life reached such a stage that I would blaspheme and challenge? Why? Blessed Sacrament?
...To be continued