A Nun’s Diary

In a nun’s diary, Jesus revealed mercy’s heartbeat—an image, a chaplet, and the hour that still calls us back to trust.

Saint Faustina and the Divine Mercy

In 1931, within the quiet walls of a convent in Płock, Poland, a young nun named Sister Faustina Kowalska knelt alone in prayer. The silence of the night wrapped around her—until it broke with light.

Before her stood Jesus, clothed in a white garment, one hand raised in blessing, the other touching His heart. From His chest streamed two great rays—one red, one pale.

She listened as He said:

Paint an image according to the pattern you see, with the signature: Jesus, I trust in You.” (Diary, 47)

The pale ray, He explained, stood for the Water that cleanses souls; the red ray for the Blood that gives them life. Though she knew nothing of painting, Faustina later worked with Father Michał Sopoćko and artist Eugene Kazimirowski to create the first Image of Divine Mercy in 1934.

Jesus, I trust in You

Jesus promised that through this image, He would pour out graces to those who trust in Him. The vision became the visible heart of a devotion that would soon embrace the world.

When the first painting was displayed in Vilnius in 1935, the words “Jezu, ufam Tobie”—“Jesus, I trust in You”—were not yet written on the canvas itself but placed on a small plaque beneath the image, as a signature of trust. Later versions, such as the 1943 painting by Adolf Hyła, began placing the words directly on the artwork, creating the familiar version we know today.

The Birth of the Chaplet

In 1935, in her small room in Vilnius, Lithuania, Faustina again saw a vision—this time of an angel of wrath ready to punish the world. Filled with compassion, she prayed for mercy, but her words felt too weak.

Then Jesus appeared once more—radiant, peaceful, merciful. He taught her a new prayer of atonement and trust, to be prayed on ordinary beads like those of the rosary.

She wrote His words in her Diary:

Say unceasingly this chaplet that I have taught you. Whoever will recite it will receive great mercy at the hour of death.” (Diary, 476)

And again:

Through this chaplet you will obtain everything, if what you ask for is compatible with My will.” (Diary, 1731)

From that moment, the Divine Mercy Chaplet became Heaven’s answer to human despair—a rhythm of hope born from the heart of Jesus Himself.

The Divine Mercy Chaplet

Sign of the Cross:

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Opening Prayers:

You expired, Jesus, but the source of life gushed forth for souls, and the ocean of mercy opened up for the whole world. O Fount of Life, unfathomable Divine Mercy, envelop the whole world and empty Yourself out upon us. (Repeat three times) O Blood and Water, which gushed forth from the Heart of Jesus as a fountain of mercy for us, I trust in You.

On the Rosary Beads:

Pray one Our Father, one Hail Mary, and one Apostles’ Creed.

On the large beads:

Eternal Father, I offer You the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Your dearly beloved Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, in atonement for our sins and those of the whole world.

On the small beads:

For the sake of His sorrowful Passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world.

After five decades:

Holy God, Holy Mighty One, Holy Immortal One, have mercy on us and on the whole world. (Repeat three times)

Closing Prayer:

Eternal God, in whom mercy is endless and the treasury of compassion inexhaustible, look kindly upon us and increase Your mercy in us, that in difficult moments we might not despair nor become despondent, but with great confidence submit ourselves to Your holy will, which is Love and Mercy itself. Amen.

These opening words were taught to Saint Faustina by Jesus in 1935, as recorded in her Diary, entries 1319–1321.

The Hour of Mercy

Jesus also asked Faustina to honor 3 PM, the hour of His death on the cross, as the daily Hour of Mercy.

He told her:

At three o’clock, implore My mercy, especially for sinners… This is the hour of great mercy for the whole world.” (Diary, 1320)

At this time, believers pause—even for a moment—to recall His Passion, pray the Chaplet if possible, or simply whisper: “Jesus, I trust in You.”

Three o’clock is not just a number on the clock. It is the reminder of the moment when mercy broke open for all humanity.

ᴛʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴏᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʙˡᵘᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵉᵐ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵇˡᵒᵍ

The Unfinished Story of Saint Lorenzo Ruiz and Companions

A story of faith, fear, and choices that still speak to us centuries later.

When people hear the name Lorenzo Ruiz, they usually recall the basics: first Filipino saint, martyred in Japan, feast on September 28. But his story is not clean or polished. It is messy, unfinished, and real.

An Ordinary Man

Lorenzo was born in Binondo around 1600. He was a husband, father of three, and a calligrapher for the Dominicans. His careful handwriting filled church records, yet none of his own words remain. No diary, no letters. Everything we know comes from others.

The Accusation

In 1636, Lorenzo was accused of killing a Spaniard. No proof was ever found, and many believe the charge was false. Still, it was enough to put his life at risk. He joined Dominican missionaries leaving Manila, hoping to escape the danger.

Into Japan

The ship brought him to Japan, then ruled by the Tokugawa shogunate. There, Christianity was banned, and believers faced torture and death. If he had fled an accusation in Manila, he now stood in a land where his faith itself was treated as a crime.

Not Alone

Lorenzo was not alone. With him were others whose names are often forgotten:

Antonio Gonzalez, a Spaniard who once escaped persecution but chose to return.

Guillaume Courtet, a French priest who entered Japan in disguise but was exposed when his smooth hands showed he was no laborer.

Lazaro of Kyoto, a Japanese leper who refused to hide and stayed with the missionaries to the end.

They came from different nations, but they faced the same fate.

The Pit

On September 29, 1637, Lorenzo was tortured by being hung upside down in a pit. It was a slow, crushing death meant to force him to deny his faith. Many could not endure it. He did not give in. His last words were clear and strong:

“I am a Catholic and wholeheartedly do accept death for God; had I a thousand lives, all these to Him shall I offer.”

What We Do Not Know

His wife and children disappear from history. No names remain, no endings recorded. In 1981, he was beatified in Manila—the first time a beatification was held outside Rome. Six years later, in 1987, he was canonized in Rome. Today, many migrants see in him a patron: a man who left home and never returned.

Saint Lorenzo Ruiz and his companions were not perfect heroes. They were ordinary people caught in harsh times. But when the final choice came, they chose faith over fear.

That choice is what turned an ordinary father—and a scattered group of companions—into saints. Their story still leaves us with a question: when our own trial comes, what will we stand for?

ᴛʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ ᴏᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʙˡᵘᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵉᵐ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵇˡᵒᵍ

Traces of courage, silence, and sacrifice—this is Saints.

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