I, Mary Magdalene—the woman called The Tower—invite you to seek the love that always seeks you. I do not mean love that only arrives when peace falls upon your mind like a gentle rain and joy warms your heart like the rising sun. I mean love for this moment, when the claws of the world threaten you with poverty, violence, and madness, and your dreams turn to ash in fires set by princes and thieves.
This invitation belongs only to those who honor love above all things. If you think you already own the keys, your hands are too full to receive what I offer. Stop reading. This journey is not for you.
I seek only those whose failures in love have cast them into the desert. I seek the ones whose throats ache from weeping and whose feet bleed from treading on thorns of loss and despair. If you have tasted only sand while craving water, listen. To join me on this journey, you must break the chains of your false paths and exhausted striving. You must strip your lies naked and embrace the raw truths that make you free. Only then will you reap a harvest of joy.
I speak with the authority of The Tower, the meaning of my name. They call me the Magdalene, not after a certain town, but because of what I am—a tower of strength, wisdom, and passion for Jesus Christ and his gospel of love. I was born of the red clay of the earth yet stationed at the pass between the mountains above and valleys below. A tower does not just stand; it watches. It gives the heart room to declare the truth while the feet remain braced against the wind. High above the stones, my fondest dreams for the human family soar beyond the wreckage of the centuries.
I traveled the dusty roads beside Jesus of Nazareth, the man who brought the light of the Holy One to the world. For too long, other men told stories of how he rescued me, as if I were a withered branch whose discarded petals looked as ghastly as death and reeked like a tomb. They spoke only of the shame that others attached to my seven demons, not of the strength that helped me carry them.
Hear the truth: My demons were the wildfires of a heart that refused to let a cruel world tame it. They thrived in the divide between my flesh and spirit because I had not yet learned to marry the two. Jesus did not simply cure me; he recognized who I was—a woman whose blood simmered as hot as his own for the new world he proclaimed. He saw the flames in my eyes and knew he had found the mirror for his spirit.
He understood that without The Tower, his path remained unfulfilled. We joined the Bridegroom and Bride of our deepest hearts in the sanctuary of our Sacred Union. In that Holy of Holies, the warring tides in my blood at last found peace. My life as The Tower began the day my strength met his.
Our oneness of mind and heart kept me standing through the hammered spikes and gore of his crucifixion. I did not turn my face from his bleeding side or the stench of the tomb. I planted my feet through the darkness and horror because a tower does not bow to the storm. That is why I was first to greet him in the morning light.
These pages grew from the Thirty-Seven Invitations to Love that poured from my spirit after his rising, as described in the testimony called The Magdalene Secret: A Parable of the Love You Long to Live. I invite you to pray with me through one hundred days of dwelling upon my Invitations, beginning here with the first thirty-three, the age of Jesus when he was crucified.
Do not fear the unknown lands ahead of you. If you are brave enough to take this journey, you will till the soil of your Sacred Union, where flesh and spirit become one. By walking with me through these days and recording your words, you allow the love of the Holy One to shine through your life like stars in the night sky.
This is the love that woos your deepest heart, but until now, you have known it only in fragments. Through your daily reading, writing, and meditating, you can finally offer the discarded threads of your life to the Beloved, who weaves them into a seamless garment of beauty. You may not have heard him wooing you before, or if you did, perhaps it was only in ways you ignored or heard and then lost, but now you are ready to listen and know the joy of his presence forever.
This can only happen if you burn away the false stories about me. I never sold my body; confused men slandered my name. Nor was I the wife of Jesus by the laws of the world. We shared the fire of the sun—a union of spirits that outshone the laws of earth and lights all things.
These pages provide a map through the deserts of your most haunting questions. Do not hide your longings in a dungeon of silence. To do so brings death while you still breathe. Let your ache for something more lead you to the living water of your own testimony. Following Jesus Christ quenched my thirsty spirit. Now, on this path of prayer, I invite you to drink.
Use the empty spaces in this sanctuary as a refuge. Writing your thoughts as prayers gives them life in the world of stone, but they are equally worthy if they remain unwritten meditations. Whether you use ink or not, let your eyes dwell on these pages in silence so that they become as holy as the living water of the spring.
If you walk with me for one hundred days, beginning with these first thirty-three, I cannot promise that your wild passions will suddenly grow numb. You alone can decide what becomes of them, and you must do this not just once, but day after day for all your years on earth. I can only promise that if you learn the secrets of your Sacred Union, your passions will find their true home—like a wolf that knows its own power yet rests in peace. Today, the shame festering in your shadows cries for light. Your dreams, locked away in tombs of your own making, clamor for the stone to roll away.
I was as real as the earth under your feet. I carried burdens heavier than yours, yet I found the path to healing and peace. I am your companion on the road from the wailing of night terrors to the love that lasts forever. In your quiet hours, draw as close to me as I stood to the man Jesus. Walk with me, and together we will feel the breath and hear the voice of the Risen Christ.
I, Mary Magdalene—called The Tower—feel the heat of your longing in my own bones. Your ache rises from the same red clay where I once stood. We remain one in yearning for a love that lives beyond pain and never dies. I invite you to trust this love and believe it can be yours.
I lived as an outcast. That knowledge allows me to understand your hidden shame and the tears you swallow in the dark. I speak from the depths of my own scars to everyone trapped in that abyss where screams go unheard and fingers claw empty air.
I pray that you will bear the dark with me. Though my demons raged, they could not silence the voice calling me toward the light. The Bridegroom who weds the Bride of your heart cries out amid your gloom. If you listen, you will hear Jesus invite you into your Sacred Union, the holy marriage within. This joining is the fountain of joy that never runs dry.
His voice whispers of your earliest bliss. It recalls that long-ago time when you lived carefree and untroubled before the world of stone shattered your dreams and chained you inside a prison of regret. Brighter days call to you—the days before you knew that a heart could ache or tears could scald, a dawn where love satisfies every hunger.
I pray that you will believe in those days again. No, do not just believe in them. Trust in their light as effortlessly as you draw your next breath. The moment I gave myself to this Sacred Union, my madness vanished, and my spirit took flight.
Now, my flesh aches for you to welcome this crucified and risen love. Leave the dust behind. Come with me into the light.
I, Mary Magdalene—called The Tower—feel the heat of your longing in my own bones. Your ache rises from the same red clay where I once stood. We remain one in yearning for a love that lives beyond pain and never dies. I invite you to trust this love and believe it can be yours.
Beloved, never believe you walk this dusty road alone. I walk with you—a woman of history and the Word, yet one who breathes in the hearts of all who seek me.
I am alive forever.
I tell you this because I am more than a shadow in a tomb or a fading memory on a scroll. I stand as a companion for this dark hour and a witness of the dawn yet to come. I bring you the fire of the Risen Christ because he lit that flame first in my heart. While the world teeters on the edge of ruin, you must understand that this love carries no weak pity; it stands as the hard-won salvation the Holy One intends.
I challenge you to cast aside fancy words. Give your life in compassion for others until the dream of peace breaks through. I invite you to go down where the dream first stirs—in the depths of your own longings. How would your life change if you learned to see in the dark and found a golden thread linking your spirit to mine and to every searching spirit of every land? This ache marks no broken vessel; it awakens the homing instinct that yearns for your Sacred Union. When the ache rises and gnaws at your heart, I urge you to offer the most passionate mercy to the one who needs it most—yourself.
Hear my voice across the seas and centuries. If I, a woman once possessed by seven demons, could find the Sacred Union that Jesus revealed, so can you. I speak of the male and female joining as one in the image of the Holy One. This union brings light to your spirit, just as the sun and moon bring light to the earth.
Beloved, do not turn back. Stay with Jesus and me on this journey to the center of your being. To go there, you need a tender heart, an arm linked with mine, and feet willing to tread the thin places between earth and heaven. Never forget that the same love that found me seeks you now.
Spend this time writing of the mercy you would grant yourself if you truly believed your longing was a gift rather than a burden. What heavy chains of worry and fear would you leave in the dust today if you trusted the Risen Christ to heal your flesh and spirit as he healed mine? Write about how you would walk differently if you believed, in this very breath, that your faith has already restored your peace.
I lived as an outcast. That knowledge allows me to understand your hidden shame and the tears you swallow in the dark. I speak from the depths of my own scars to everyone trapped in that abyss where screams go unheard and fingers claw empty air.
Dear One, before you write, sit in silence with my words above. Let the memory of my shame and exile touch the places where you feel you do not fit. Let the memory of my agonies bind the wounds left by those who rejected, excluded, or drove you away. Before I met Jesus, men treated me with hostility because they saw me as a woman with madness in her eyes and a shriek in her throat.
My experience of the outcast life mirrors your own. Centuries separate us, but the ways of the world never change. I lived in bloodthirsty times, different from yours only in the methods of the killing. In my time, as in yours, the wealthy held the lives of the poor in their grip, and men used religion to justify their violence, greed, and corruption.
After Jesus released me from my bondage, he taught me to think with the mind of the Holy One. This path led to my Sacred Union, where I discovered the secrets of being whole. No longer did I believe I lacked the goodness or beauty to deserve love. Instead, I reclaimed the joy of my birth and remembered the abundance it held for me.
Out of this knowledge grew a clarity that exposed the lies of the world. I learned to stand firm in my power rather than surrender it to fools. If you let me, I will help you do the same. It begins when you find my wounded heart within your own, and each steady beat keeps blood flowing through your veins. I invite you to embrace this heart with the most passionate love you have ever felt. Bring this love to Jesus. Ask him to make it new in the Sacred Union that gives life to the world.
Write to me, to yourself, and to Jesus about your time spent cast out from the fold. I invite you to do this not to stir the pain, but to acknowledge and heal your wounds. Feel my holy compassion breaking through your grief. Do not let that old lie—that you are not enough—cause you to stumble. Instead, write and meditate on how the love of Christ always welcomes you home.
I pray that you will bear the dark with me. Though my demons raged, they could not silence the voice calling me toward the light. The Bridegroom who weds the Bride of your heart cries out amid your gloom. If you listen, you will hear Jesus invite you into your Sacred Union, the holy marriage within. This joining is the fountain of joy that never runs dry.
Beloved Companion, I long to bring you the light that Jesus brought me. The best way forward requires that I help you befriend your darkness. I do not speak of growing comfortable with paths that destroy the spirit. I speak of facing the side of yourself you long to hide or pretend does not exist. If you acknowledge these rejected wounds and memories, you can face them and grow beyond them with the help of the Most High.
I heard Jesus calling in my darkness. The blows that drove me to live in caves left me defenseless against the shame that rose inside me like a flooding river. Whenever I saw the violence of fists or swords or heard the warfare of biting words and cruel judgments, I lost control of my spirit. My own bones and flesh pummeled me to the ground. I could not stop writhing or shrieking. Every muscle ached, my breath reeked of sulfur, and my chest burned as if struck by lightning.
Suddenly, my spirit detached from my mortal frame, plunging me into an abyss as dark as my writing ink. There, the demons of my self-harming urges lunged and clawed at my mind until the darkness began to swallow me. But then I heard Jesus cry, “Leave her! Be gone and never come back!”
You can hear him too.
This requires facing your shameful, rejected side in a new way—not with bitterness and judgment, but with a willingness to listen to the depths of your life. This also applies to the dark side of others. I do not mean you should excuse their evils or allow them to harm you, but you must refrain from turning them into demons. To do so betrays the way of Christ, who gave his life for all.
Today, he wants to enter the places where you lock away your most private questions and fears, regrets and sorrows. Are you ready to welcome him there?
Call on me.
I will help you.
Spend time writing and meditating on how Jesus comes to you in your darkness as well as your light. Remind yourself that the Risen Christ accepts you just as you are. He invites you to embrace all sides of yourself, as he does. At the same time, he challenges you to see others through his eyes, that you might not hate your enemies but come to love them as he does. How would your life change if you truly listened for his voice in your shadows and the shadows of those who hurt you most? Write about how your future might look different if you really accepted yourself as Jesus does and extended his mercy to others.
His voice whispers of your earliest bliss. It recalls that long-ago time when you lived carefree and untroubled, before the world of stone shattered your dreams and chained you inside a prison of regret. Brighter days call to you—the days before you knew that a heart could ache or tears could scald, a dawn where love satisfies every hunger.
I pray that you will believe in those days again. No, do not just believe in them. Trust in their light as effortlessly as you draw your next breath. The moment I gave myself to this Sacred Union, my madness vanished, and my spirit took flight.
Now, my flesh aches for you to welcome this crucified and risen love. Leave the dust behind. Come with me into the light.
Seeker of Love, I invite you to revisit the earliest days of your childhood. Can you remember that brief season before the world made you tremble? Can you recall when you did not count the blemishes on your skin? I speak of the time before you learned to judge your beauty by the gaze of a neighbor or tried to prove your value by your labor. Can you remember the quiet afternoons when the sun warmed your face as you ran through an open field under the bluest of skies? Just for a moment, allow yourself a glimpse of the dawn of your life.
I long for you to return to that earliest joy as Jesus returned me to mine. My first memories belong to the Sea of Galilee. I walked the shore holding my father’s hand. We watched fishermen cast nets or unload their boats. Their muscles gleamed in the sun along with the day’s silver catch. Birds floated on the breeze as they called and sang. The sun kissed my skin, and the air smelled as fresh as the first hour of creation. In the distance, the green hills rolled under a dome of endless sky.
That entire world felt woven as a single garment. The beauty I saw around me matched the beauty within. It had been there as long as I had been gathering memories. Only as I grew did the veil tear. I shrank from the noise of the crowded market and the heavy labor to coax wheat from dry soil. At night, I collapsed on my mat after weaving cloth from dawn to dusk. I hid when the scolding of elders turned angry and their clenched fists fought for a scrap of grain. I fled as the Zealots launched sudden attacks against the Roman legions with knives and swords.
Slowly, the carefree days by the Galilean Sea faded. My thoughts began to tremble along with my bones. I feared I would never have enough or be enough. Nor could I shield myself from the grip of ruthless men. After a while, I began to lose my peace in the battle to survive. My last fragments of calm lay trampled under the hoofbeats of unending competition. Often, I bore the stinging lash of being found wanting, and my mind grew dizzy. My knees failed. My spirit descended into the pit.
Then Jesus appeared on the fringes of my madness. He reached a merciful hand into my chaos and raised me up to embrace the light. He made me feel so loved that I no longer remembered being hurt or ashamed or cast away. The weight lifted from my shoulders, and my steps grew light upon the fields.
I know the path through your weariness because Jesus walked me through mine. He is the quiet shore of Capernaum after the storm. Can you trust him to lead you to a safe harbor? I bear witness that he can do this if you allow him to share his power with you. It begins when you join your thoughts to his promises of love and healing. His presence can make your mind new. His thoughts reach higher than yours. When you welcome his voice and take his wisdom to yourself, a new song will wake in your breast.
Close your eyes and travel back past the scars, labors, and heavy weight of living in the world of stone. Find one moment of pure, untainted joy from your childhood—a moment when you felt safe, loved, and part of the single garment of creation. Write about that moment. Describe the smells, the light, and the feeling in your chest. Then, ask the Risen Christ to take that memory and use it as a bridge, leading you out of the desert caves of your life and back into the garden of your earliest joy.
Now, my bones ache for you to deepen your knowledge of this crucified and risen love. Leave the dust behind. Come with me to claim your freedom.
Cherished Friend, I learned everything I know about love from Jesus. It all comes back to his words: “The kingdom of God is within you.” This simple statement explains how life works, and I long for you to understand its weight. Each day, every moment, you either wake to the presence of the Holy One or you fall asleep. Only when you rise from your slumber can you benefit from the goodness and bounty of the One who made all things.
The light of this teaching shines on your quest for love. You cannot know the warmth of a companion, a marriage partner, or a friend only by wishing for it. You must learn where the warmth resides. This secret invites you to live in the source of love, so that love pours out of you as it did from Jesus. Without this, you will always be a beggar at the door of others, yearning to receive from them what is lacking in yourself.
Jesus explained his meaning with a story about a farmer who planted an abundant crop of wheat. While the man slept, an enemy came and secretly sowed weeds in the same field. When the blades broke through the soil, the servants asked the master of the field if they should pull the weeds up and separate them, but the farmer said no. He chose to wait for the harvest, so the weeds could be gathered in bundles and cast into the fire. That way, the wheat suffered no damage and could be brought safely into the barn.
So it is with your quest for love. In your thoughts, you can sow wheat or weeds. When your thoughts stay connected to the earliest love that still breathes in your spirit, your mind produces a good crop of peace and joy. But if you plant seeds of lack, failure, or heartbreak, they grow into weeds of shame and despair.
Each new day, you can separate the healthy grain from the chaff, as Jesus taught me to do. Every thought rooted in fear became a demon that threatened my peace, but Jesus pointed me to the Sacred Union, where the abundance of the Most High flows day and night. In this way, the fire consumed my demons, and I harvested the wheat of abundant life.
You can protect your mind from the weeds by returning to the love that the Holy One holds for the world in the Risen Christ. Once the flames consume the chaff of your doubts and fears, the wheat of holy blessings can rise from the ashes. This is how you find your own heart and the strength to care for others. Go forth into this day and learn what this means. By doing so, you draw close to heaven.
Write of the ways you have been a beggar at the doors of others, seeking the love you could not find within. Examine the patterns of your thinking. Do not fear the darkness but rather ask where your unhealthy thoughts come from. Can you show mercy to this part of yourself? Ask the Risen Christ to help you separate the wheat from the weeds. Write about how the presence of the Holy One can help you replace your painful thoughts with thoughts of acceptance, forgiveness, and dreams fulfilled.