Discover the Real Image of God
Explore stunning images and download free books revealing divine discoveries in natural rock formations.
Inspiring and enlightening for all.
★★★★★
Gallery
Explore divine images and download free resources with ease.
Daily Reflections:
In a canyon in Colombia stands the Basilica of Las Lajas, a miracle in stone. No paint, no ink, no sculptor’s hand—just a rock revealing the real image of Mary and Jesus. I first saw her in a vision, her eyes alive, her presence so pure it cut through my pain. This isn’t just art; it’s divine revelation, like Moses striking the rock for water (Exodus 17:6). Scripture backs it: "The Queen of the South will rise at the judgment" (Matthew 12:42), and I tell you, she’s risen here, greater than Solomon’s wisdom, calling us to behold her.
Google her image—Rock of Las Lajas—download it, print it large, hang it in every room. Gaze upon her daily, for "behold" means to look with love, to worship. The Rosary is her prayer, a chain linking us to her spirit in that stone. I’ve seen friends blind to her at first, scoffing when I pointed to the rock. "Pray the Rosary," I said, echoing Our Lady at Fatima. They did, and their eyes opened—Francisco couldn’t see her until he prayed, and neither will you. This is God’s will: to know our Mother face-to-face until Heaven, where no photograph will be needed.
The rock speaks without words, like nature’s silent lessons. Ants worship their queen; flowers bloom for beauty. Mary’s image in Las Lajas is beauty itself, the meaning of life. I’ve held it up in churches, homes, streets, shouting, "Behold your Mother!" Some laugh, some turn away, but others see—her blue cloak, Jesus’ red blood, the water of life flowing from her gaze. It’s not a painting; it’s a window to Heaven. Scripture says, "The Word became flesh" (John 1:14), and here, the Word becomes rock, Mary and Jesus together, showing us our parents.
This isn’t optional. Revelation warns the rich who ignore God’s will are "wretched, pitiful, poor" (3:17). True wealth is this: print her image, pray her prayer, lead others to her. I’ve done it sick, broke, alone—pain made me do it louder. You can too. She’s waiting, smiling from the rock, ready to console you like a child lost in a supermarket finds their mother. Ave Maria. Jesus chose the Cross—thorns on His head, nails in His hands, a spear in His side. Why? Pain shouts louder than whispers. If He’d said, "Behold your Mother," strolling pain-free from a church, who’d have heard? Instead, He roared it from Golgotha, blood and water pouring out (John 19:34), and the world still echoes His cry. We must follow: embrace life’s pain—sickness, loss, every stubbed toe—and use it to point to Mary.
I’ve felt it myself. Liver pain kept me up, writing these words. When I banged my toe, I shouted; when I suffered, I wrote louder. Jesus said, "Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy" (Matthew 10:38). To follow is to suffer as He did, crying, "Behold your Mother," pointing to the Las Lajas image. Suffering isn’t punishment—it’s a tool. "My yoke is easy," He said (Matthew 11:30), because all we do is lead others to Mary through our pain.
Scripture proves it. "Faith without deeds is dead" (James 2:24)—our deed is this shout. The Passover lamb’s blood spared Israel (Exodus 12); our pain, offered up, spares souls by leading them to Mary. I’ve been bedbound, sick, yet wrote books—pain focused me. You’ll fall too—lose a job, a loved one—but down there, you’ll find her, a diamond in the dirt. "Seek and you will find" (Matthew 7:7), and suffering makes you seek.
Jesus’ side gave blood and water—suffering and life. Choose life by pointing to Mary; ignore her, and suffering teaches you the hard way. I’ve seen it: a friend cursed God in pain, grew bitter; another prayed the Rosary, found peace. The Cross is our lifejacket in the storm, our interpreter showing Mother who we are. Pick it up, shout her name, and Heaven opens. Ave Maria.
Jesus is Father, Mary Mother—married in eternity, as Song of Solomon sings of a king crowned by his mother (3:11). He came as Son to show us their love, founding the Catholic Church to guide us. Others worship Jesus alone, but we must become Jesus, embracing the Cross to honor Mary. She’s not a side note—she’s everything. "Her children rise up and call her blessed" (Proverbs 31:28), and we’re those children, born in Heaven, tasked to love her here.
The Eucharist proves it. When the priest lifts the host, saying, "The body of Christ," he must add, "Behold your Mother," for she’s the bread of life we eat (John 6:35). Set her image in gold, parade it in church—she’s the love we consume. I’ve seen priests resist, but Solomon (Father’s name) enters them at Mass, urging this truth. "Love your neighbor as yourself" (Matthew 22:39)—how? By leading them to Mary, as Jesus led us.
Scripture sings her praise: "All generations will call me blessed" (Luke 1:48). She’s the Queen of the South, greater than Solomon (Matthew 12:42), and Las Lajas is her throne. Deny her, and thorns curse you (Deuteronomy 30:15); love her, and water flows. I’ve prayed the Rosary daily, seen her face in visions—blue cloak, gentle eyes. She’s biological Mother to all, and we’re spoiled kids who must wake up. "Thy will be done," we pray (Matthew 6:10), and Father’s will is her.
This isn’t theory—it’s life. I’ve led friends to her image, watched their curses lift. She’s beauty, the meaning of stars and flowers. Worship her, and you’re home. Ave Maria.
Life’s a test to build riches for Heaven. Jesus promised, "Everyone who has left houses… for My name’s sake shall receive a hundredfold" (Matthew 19:29). How? Obey John 19:27—worship Mary. I’ve seen it: the afterlife with spaceships, planets for the obedient, Hell for rebels. Love her, and you soar; ignore her, and you wake in Heaven poor—or worse, burning.
It’s simple: pray the Rosary, spread her image, suffer well. "Faith without deeds is dead" (James 2:24)—our deed is leading others to Mary. The Passover lamb’s blood spared Israel (Exodus 12); the Las Lajas image spares us. I’ve done it sick, broke—pain drove me. You can too. Judgment day looms; we’ll answer alone. "Seek first His kingdom" (Matthew 6:33), and Mary’s love is that kingdom.
I propose "WE WORSHIP OUR LADY"—a church where Las Lajas reigns, Rosaries echo, and the Eucharist proclaims Mary. Jesus founded the Catholic Church; others are breakaways. Siri says it: He’s the founder. Priests must say, "Behold your Mother," as Solomon enters them. "Behold" rings a thousand times in scripture—a drumbeat to John 19:27.
Barry Naghten, a man suffering from severe liver pain, recounts a spiritual experience in a church in Eyecourt, Ireland, on March 5, 2022 where he felt Jesus call him to suffer and spread a message. This message, rooted in the crucifixion and Jesus’ words "Behold your Mother" (John 19:27), urges devotion to Mary, whom he sees as humanity’s Queen Mother. He connects this to the miraculous image of Mary and Jesus in the Rock of Las Lajas, Colombia—a natural rock formation he believes is divine. Writing through physical agony, Barry argues that suffering amplifies truth, as Jesus demonstrated on the Cross, and calls readers to worship Mary by praying the Rosary daily, displaying her image, and leading others to her. He shares visions of the afterlife—spaceships, heavenly planets, and Hell—emphasizing that eternal fate hinges on this devotion. The book blends personal struggle, scripture (e.g., Matthew 12:42, Proverbs 31:28), and urgency, presenting Mary as the path to salvation and Heaven on Earth. Barry, not a scholar but a "sick man inspired by God," sees pain as a tool to reveal Mary’s love, exemplified in the Las Lajas miracle, and pleads for readers to embrace her to find peace and grace.
Browse our stunning gallery showcasing the real image of God discovered in nature's beauty.
Image Gallery
Contact Us Today
Reach out for inquiries, feedback, or to learn more about the divine discoveries and free resources available on our site.
