Overcoming Disbelief
As a result of all that was happening to me I started to go to a church nearby. It was Roman Catholic, and though I was Greek Orthodox, the Catholic Church was the closest to my home – only a few blocks away. After a few days my Angel asked me to go to the seminary on the church premises to look for an American priest who lived there. I was to tell him about my supernatural experiences and show the Messages I had carefully written in notebooks.
It was dusk as I walked through the garden at the seminary. I saw a man carrying a plastic bucket of washed, dry clothes. He seemed surprised to see me at such an hour and asked if I were looking for somebody. ‘An American priest,’ I said. He replied that he would be back shortly, and asked me if I wished to wait in his cell.
He introduced himself as Fr. Karl, and as we walked into his cell I began to tell him of my experiences and confidently I showed him the Messages. Being naive in these matters, I expected him to rejoice with me. Instead, he tilted his head and lowered it, and his words to me indicated he thought I was going through a psychological crisis, or suffering from schizophrenia. He asked me where my husband was and I told him he was away in Europe for a while. He must have deduced I was so miserable and unhappy being alone in Asia, that I had lost my mind. He asked if he could see the palms of my hands, and as he studied them I knew he was trying to find traces of a mental disorder, as shows up in certain mental cases. He pitied me and invited me to come at any time to see him.
After that first encounter, I went over to see him every few days, determined to prove to him that I was normal. One day he asked, ‘I wonder if you would allow me to see this phenomenon while you are communicating with Heaven?’ I prayed silently and immediately I felt God approaching in His special way. Then God spoke to me and I positioned my hand to write what He said, but at that very moment the priest grabbed my wrist to see whether he could stop my hand from writing. At once he felt a sort of tingling current penetrating his arm and he withdrew his hand very quickly, with a look of shock on his face. He did not say anything and just watched in silence while I received the words of God.
It was dusk as I walked through the garden at the seminary. I saw a man carrying a plastic bucket of washed, dry clothes. He seemed surprised to see me at such an hour and asked if I were looking for somebody. ‘An American priest,’ I said. He replied that he would be back shortly, and asked me if I wished to wait in his cell.
He introduced himself as Fr. Karl, and as we walked into his cell I began to tell him of my experiences and confidently I showed him the Messages. Being naive in these matters, I expected him to rejoice with me. Instead, he tilted his head and lowered it, and his words to me indicated he thought I was going through a psychological crisis, or suffering from schizophrenia. He asked me where my husband was and I told him he was away in Europe for a while. He must have deduced I was so miserable and unhappy being alone in Asia, that I had lost my mind. He asked if he could see the palms of my hands, and as he studied them I knew he was trying to find traces of a mental disorder, as shows up in certain mental cases. He pitied me and invited me to come at any time to see him.
After that first encounter, I went over to see him every few days, determined to prove to him that I was normal. One day he asked, ‘I wonder if you would allow me to see this phenomenon while you are communicating with Heaven?’ I prayed silently and immediately I felt God approaching in His special way. Then God spoke to me and I positioned my hand to write what He said, but at that very moment the priest grabbed my wrist to see whether he could stop my hand from writing. At once he felt a sort of tingling current penetrating his arm and he withdrew his hand very quickly, with a look of shock on his face. He did not say anything and just watched in silence while I received the words of God.
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