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The Merciful Warning

Divine Appeal Reflection - 160

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 160:  "Make My merciful warning known to all and tell them I need them to be saved from their sins which lead to perdition.”

The deepest mystery within this appeal is that Divine Mercy does not merely forgive sin after it has wounded the soul; Mercy pursues the soul before sin has finished destroying it (cf. Lk 15:4–7; Ez 18:23). The divine warning therefore comes from the Heart of a God who sees farther than the sinner sees himself. We see the pleasure of a moment; God sees the chain that pleasure may create. We see a compromise; God sees the gradual deformation of conscience (cf. Jas 1:14–16). We see an indulgence; God sees a possible slavery (cf. Jn 8:34). We see resentment as something we have a right to keep;(cf. Heb 12:15) God sees a wound slowly poisoning charity . The mystical dimension is startling: before sin becomes an action, it often becomes an interior consent; before it becomes a chain, it becomes a thought welcomed repeatedly; before it becomes a prison, it becomes something the heart begins defending (cf. Mk 7:21–23). This is why Christ's warning is mercy. The Holy Spirit illumines conscience not merely to make us ashamed, but to make conversion possible . The light that exposes the wound is already the beginning of healing. The Catechism (cf. CCC 1848) teaches that God's grace must uncover sin in order to convert the heart and lead it toward eternal life . Therefore, when conscience becomes uncomfortable during prayer, when a repeated sin suddenly appears more terrible than before, when a person begins to recognize what he previously excused, this may be not God's rejection but God's pursuit (cf. Lk 19:5–10). Divine Mercy disturbs the false peace of the sinner because it desires to give him the true peace of reconciliation .

The word perdition takes us into one of the most sobering mysteries of human freedom. Catholic faith does not reduce sin to weakness without consequence. Sin is a rupture of communion with God and wounds the dignity of the person created for eternal union with Him . Mortal sin  involves grave matter, full knowledge, and deliberate consent . Yet the Church simultaneously proclaims the immeasurable greatness of Divine Mercy: no sin is beyond God's forgiveness when the sinner turns toward Him in genuine repentance . Here lies a terrifying paradox: the greatest danger to the soul is not that it has fallen, but that it may cease believing that it can return . Judas experienced remorse but did not surrender his despair to Christ; Peter experienced devastating failure but allowed Christ's mercy to find him again (cf. Mt 27:3–5; Jn 21:15–19). The difference reveals something mystical about salvation: God does not save us by eliminating our freedom; He invites our wounded freedom to surrender itself to grace (cf. CCC 1847). The prodigal son had to arise and begin the journey home (cf. Lk 15:17–20). Zacchaeus had to descend from the tree and receive Christ concretely into his life (cf. Lk 19:1–10). The thief beside Jesus had to turn his dying heart toward Him (cf. Lk 23:39–43). Mercy is infinitely available, but it must be received. The Catechism describes conversion as God's gracious work awakening the heart while requiring the person's response (cf. CCC 1427–1432). Thus the warning is not designed to make souls obsess over hell. It is meant to awaken them from spiritual sleep. It is the cry of Love saying: Do not remain where your soul is dying when the Father's house is still open (cf. Lk 15:20–24).

One of the most astonishing mystical realities is that Christ desires the salvation of people who may presently desire nothing of Him (cf. 1 Tim 2:3–4). Saul was not searching for Jesus when grace overtook him on the Damascus road; he was travelling in the opposite direction (cf. Acts 9:1–6). The Samaritan woman did not approach the well expecting a theological encounter that would expose the deepest truth of her life (cf. Jn 4:7–18). Zacchaeus climbed a tree merely to see Jesus, but Jesus was already seeking him (cf. Lk 19:1–10). Matthew was sitting at his tax booth when Christ's call interrupted his ordinary life (cf. Mt 9:9). Mary Magdalene's story (cf. Jn 20:11–18) reveals a woman whose past does not prevent her from becoming a witness to the Resurrection . Grace often arrives before the sinner understands that grace is searching for him. This gives an extraordinary depth to apostolic intercession. A mother praying for a son who has abandoned the Church may think nothing is happening, yet the mysterious action of grace cannot be measured by visible results (cf. Col 4:2–4). A priest may hear a confession from someone who returns after twenty years and discover that a single sentence spoken decades earlier remained alive within that person's conscience (cf. Is 55:10–11). A grandmother may spend years praying for a grandson imprisoned by addiction, while God silently prepares an encounter that she will never witness . St. Monica’s perseverance reveals the hidden strength of intercessory fidelity; St. Ambrose shows how courageous truth can become an instrument of mercy; and St. John Vianney reveals, through the confessional, the immense dignity of one soul returning to God (cf. Lk 15:7; Jas 5:19–20). The apostolate of salvation often begins where nobody notices: before the tabernacle, beside a sickbed, within a prison, through the tears of a mother, or in the silent offering of a contemplative heart (cf. Mt 6:6; Col 4:2–4). Christian conversion therefore cannot remain self-centred; it naturally becomes intercession, charity, and concern for the salvation of others (cf. 1 Tim 2:1–4; CCC 1822, 2634–2636).

To make a merciful warning known requires a purification of the person delivering it. One cannot authentically warn another about the danger of sin while secretly enjoying the other's condemnation (cf. Mt 7:1–5). Christian correction is born from the sorrow of the Heart of Christ, not from superiority (cf. Gal 6:1). Nathan confronted David after his grave sin, but his purpose was restoration rather than humiliation (cf. 2 Sam 12:1–13). Paul corrected the Corinthians severely at times, yet his apostolic concern was that they return to truth and communion (cf. 2 Cor 7:8–10). Jesus spoke with extraordinary directness to the Pharisees,(cf. Mt 23:13–39; Lk 19:41–44) but His tears over Jerusalem reveal that divine severity is never separated from divine compassion . St. Gregory the Great showed that true pastoral leadership begins with responsibility for souls rather than personal authority . St. Vincent de Paul united truth with practical mercy, reminding the Church that love for souls must eventually become concrete service (cf. Mt 25:35–40). St. Teresa of Ávila combined uncompromising pursuit of holiness with patience toward human weakness, leading souls toward deeper friendship with Christ . St. Francis de Sales demonstrated that correction can be firm without becoming harsh, allowing charity to preserve the dignity of the person being guided (cf. Eph 4:15; CCC 1827). Their witness shows that concern for salvation is not domination or condemnation; it is courageous love that seeks truth, repentance, healing, and ultimately communion with The deepest apostolic warning is therefore not shouted from above;(cf. Rom 12:15) it kneels beside the sinner and weeps with him . A father warning a son about addiction must communicate, “Your life is worth fighting for,” rather than “You disgust me” (cf. Eph 4:15). A wife confronting destructive behavior must seek truth without retaliation (cf. Eph 4:25–32). A priest correcting a penitent must protect the dignity of the person while refusing to rename sin as virtue (cf. Jn 8:10–11). A friend witnessing a destructive relationship may need the courage to speak when silence would become complicity . The warning becomes mystical when the salvation of the other becomes more important than our desire to be right. This is participation in the Heart of the Good Shepherd, who searches for the lost rather than waiting for them to find their own way home (cf. Lk 15:4–6). Conversion itself is not merely moral self-improvement; it is a return of the entire person toward God, made possible by grace (cf. CCC 1431–1432).

The final mystery is perhaps the most demanding: a person who has truly encountered Divine Mercy cannot remain indifferent to the possibility of another soul being lost (cf. 2 Cor 5:14–15). This does not mean living in panic about other people's salvation. It means acquiring something of Christ's own thirst for souls (cf. Jn 19:28). Moses stood before God and pleaded for the people after their grave apostasy (cf. Ex 32:30–32). Paul expressed an almost incomprehensible willingness to suffer for the sake of his people (cf. Rom 9:1–3). Epaphras (cf. Col 4:12) wrestled in prayer for the spiritual maturity of others . These are windows into apostolic love: the salvation of another becomes an interior burden carried before God. The Eucharist deepens this mystery because participation in Christ's sacrifice cannot remain purely private; the one who receives Christ is drawn into Christ's self-offering for the world . The contemplative therefore becomes apostolic. The mother becomes apostolic through hidden intercession. The priest through preaching, confession, and sacramental ministry. The teacher through truth and example. The businessperson through justice and integrity (cf. Am 5:24). The young person through courageous purity and friendship (cf. 1 Tim 4:12). The sick person through patient offering of suffering (cf. Col 1:24). The elderly person through intercession. The forgotten person through fidelity hidden from public recognition (cf. Mt 6:4–6). Every vocation can become a sanctuary from which the cry for souls rises toward God. The Catechism teaches that daily conversion is nourished by the Eucharist and expressed through prayer, reconciliation, charity, endurance, and concrete transformation . Therefore, the ultimate response to this appeal is not simply to tell others about sin. It is to become so deeply possessed by Christ's mercy that our presence itself begins calling others home (cf. 2 Cor 5:20). We warn because we love. We intercede because we hope. We sacrifice because Christ sacrificed Himself. We forgive because we have been forgiven. We persevere because a soul is precious beyond calculation . And beneath everything stands the unfathomable mystery: the God who needs nothing has chosen, in His mysterious love, to involve us in the salvation of souls (cf. 1 Cor 3:9). The warning is therefore ultimately a cry of Divine Love: not “Be afraid of Me,” but “Do not let anything separate you from the Love for which you were created.” (cf. Rom 8:35–39)

Prayer

O Adorable Jesus, give us Your thirst for souls. Let us see sin with Your truth, yet see every sinner through the eyes of Your mercy . Awaken those who have grown spiritually cold, strengthen those who are struggling, and gently lead the wandering home . Receive our prayers, sacrifices, silence, words, vocations, and entire lives as offerings for the salvation of souls . May nothing in us hinder Your saving love from reaching those who are in danger of losing You. Amen.

Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.

Divine Appeal 160

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

(Revelation to Sr Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist)

VOLUME 1


“The earth is crumbling.”

“My daughter, I speak to you. I am using you to warn souls before it is too late. The earth is crumbling like quicksand. In the centre of My Church more than ever satan is marching in order to get rid of all souls. He stalks the world with fury maddening and capturing souls. I implore you to speak to everyone even though they do not believe you. My hand will be very severe with those priests who have abused Me and do not believe in My words of Mercy to mankind.

It is satan’s hour to capture souls. Listen to My call of mercy to this mankind. It is My great work of redemption. I will bring you few beloved souls of mine who will help you in this work as I have willed. Give My words to the small hosts. I need the desire to pray for the appeasement of the wrath of My Eternal Father. Make My merciful warning known to all and tell them I need them to be saved from their sins which lead to perdition.”

“I bless you.”

2.00 a.m., 8th June 1988

Copyright © 2015 The Late Bishop Cornelius K. Arap Korir | Catholic Diocese of Eldoret, Kenya. All rights reserved. Reproduced by adivineappeal.com from "On the Eucharist: A Divine Appeal" (Vol. 1).

Safety in Reliance on the Sacrament of Love

 Divine Appeal Reflection - 159

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 159:  "In your fears and troubles, My Sacrament of Love should impart the grace of perseverance. In this Sacrament I give Myself to you where... the majesty of the Divinity seems to be debased. Mankind has many miseries, but if they rely on Me from the treasure of My Mercy I enable them to rely on Me in safety."

There is a profound mystery in the way Our Adorable Jesus meets the frightened heart: He does not promise a life untouched by pain; He promises His Presence within the pain (cf. Is 43:2; Mt 28:20). The storm may remain, the wound may take time to heal, and the answer may not come quickly—but the soul need not face any of it alone .  This distinction reaches into the deepest experience of being human. There are fears we can name—illness, poverty, unemployment, rejection, persecution, loneliness—and fears too deep for language: the fear of becoming useless, forgotten, unloved, spiritually lost, or unable to endure another disappointment . The Eucharist enters precisely there. Christ does not always remove the storm; He becomes the hidden Presence within the boat (cf. Mk 4:35–41). He does not always prevent Abraham from leaving familiar security; He accompanies him into the unknown (cf. Gen 12:1–4). He does not explain everything to Mary; He asks for her trust before revealing the whole mystery (cf. Lk 1:26–38). Here lies the first Eucharistic mystery of safety: the soul is safe not because life has become predictable, but because Divine Love has become its dwelling place (cf. Jn 14:23). The Catechism (cf. CCC 1391–1392) teaches that the Eucharist preserves, increases, and renews supernatural life . Thus the person who approaches the altar trembling does not approach an idea but the living Christ . A woman waiting outside an operating theatre, a father facing eviction, a seminarian questioning his vocation, a widow confronting an empty house, or a prisoner unable to see beyond his sentence can all discover the same secret:(cf. Rom 8:35–39) circumstances may remain dangerous while the soul discovers a deeper security in belonging to Christ .

The second mystery is the extraordinary hiddenness of Divine Majesty. The Eucharist confronts the human imagination with something almost incomprehensible: the One whom heaven cannot contain chooses sacramental littleness (cf. 1 Kgs 8:27; Jn 6:48–58). The Creator becomes hidden beneath humble appearances; the Eternal enters time; the Lord of glory allows Himself to be approached by creatures (cf. Phil 2:6–8). Isaiah trembled before God's holiness (cf. Is 6:1–5), yet Christ now invites His people into Eucharistic communion with a tenderness that surpasses ordinary human intimacy (cf. CCC 1374). St Paschal Baylon discovered his life's centre in Eucharistic adoration.  St Manuel González García was profoundly moved by Christ's hidden presence in neglected tabernacles. Their witness reveals something deeper than devotion: God's humility is itself a revelation of Divine safety. He does not crush the fragile soul with His majesty;(cf. Ex 33:18–23; Heb 4:15–16) He veils His glory so that love can draw near . This changes how we understand weakness. The person who feels too ashamed to pray, the elderly person who feels forgotten, the recovering addict who fears another failure, or the sinner who imagines that God has grown tired of him can approach without first becoming impressive . Yet reverence remains essential: Eucharistic love is not casual familiarity. Conscious grave sin calls for sacramental reconciliation before Holy Communion . The tabernacle therefore becomes simultaneously throne and refuge, altar and sanctuary, mystery and mercy. We enter conscious of our littleness and discover that Divine greatness has chosen to come near rather than remain distant .

The third mystery concerns safety from despair. Human suffering becomes most spiritually dangerous when it begins interpreting God for us: God has forgotten me; my life will never change; my sin is too great; my prayer is useless; I have failed too many times. Scripture (cf. Gen 16:7–13) repeatedly destroys these conclusions. Hagar, abandoned in the wilderness, discovers that God sees her . Elijah, (cf. 1 Kgs 19:4–8) exhausted and wishing for death, is not condemned for his weakness; God first gives him rest and nourishment . Bartimaeus continues calling for mercy although the crowd tries to silence him (cf. Mk 10:46–52). The woman (cf. Mk 5:25–34) suffering from hemorrhage carries twelve years of disappointment before reaching Christ . Peter's collapse becomes the beginning of a deeper dependence when Christ restores him beside the sea (cf. Jn 21:15–19). The mercy of Christ therefore does not tell the wounded soul, “Your misery is imaginary.” It tells the soul something far greater: “Your misery is real, but it is not the deepest reality.” (cf. Rom 5:20). The Eucharist becomes the sacramental proclamation of this truth because Christ gives Himself precisely to nourish pilgrims who are not yet finished . St Mark Ji Tianxiang offers the extraordinary witness of remaining faithful amid a prolonged struggle with addiction and persecution. His live warns us not to confuse weakness with abandonment. A person may fall and still return; struggle and still hope; weep and still believe (cf. Mic 7:8). The safest soul is therefore not necessarily the strongest soul. Sometimes it is the soul that has finally stopped pretending to be strong and has learned to place its poverty completely into the hands of Mercy (cf. 2 Cor 12:9–10).

The fourth mystery is safety from ourselves. There are dangers outside us, but there are also storms within: pride, resentment, compulsive desire, fear, self-pity, obsession with reputation, uncontrolled anger, despair, and the secret need to control everything . We can become prisoners of our own interior world. Zacchaeus (cf. Lk 19:1–10) was materially successful yet spiritually trapped by his relationship with wealth; encountering Christ reordered his life . The Samaritan woman carried a complicated history, yet Christ's truth did not humiliate her;(cf. Jn 4:7–30, 39–42) it opened her toward transformation and mission . The Gerasene man had become socially isolated and lived among the tombs until Christ restored him to his right mind and communion with others . This is the safety of Divine Mercy: Christ protects us not merely from what threatens us, but from becoming permanently imprisoned by what has wounded or distorted us (cf. Jn 8:31–36). St Mary Magdalene (cf. Jn 20:11–18) shows that a person's past does not have to dictate the future . St Benedict Joseph Labre reveals another kind of safety: freedom from excessive dependence upon possessions, status, and worldly recognition. The Eucharist gradually teaches the heart that genuine security cannot be constructed from control (cf. Mt 6:19–21). A person may still seek treatment, professional help, financial advice, reconciliation, legal protection, or pastoral accompaniment;(cf. Sir 38:1–15) trusting God is not abandoning prudence . But underneath every responsible action there can be a deeper surrender: I will do what love and wisdom require, (cf. Prov 3:5–6) but I will not make myself god over the outcome . This is Eucharistic safety—not escape from responsibility, but freedom from the illusion that everything depends upon me (cf. Ps 37:5).

The final mystery is perhaps the most beautiful: the soul that discovers safety in Christ gradually becomes a place of safety for others. The Eucharist does not close the Christian inside private consolation; (cf. 1 Cor 10:16–17; CCC 1396–1397) it opens the person toward the wounded Body of Christ in the world . Mary receives Christ and immediately journeys toward Elizabeth (cf. Lk 1:39–45). Paul receives strength amid suffering and becomes capable of strengthening others (cf. 2 Cor 1:3–4). Peter, once terrified by his own weakness, eventually becomes capable of strengthening his brothers (cf. Lk 22:31–32). This is the apostolic fruit of Eucharistic safety. The mother who has discovered God's patience may become patient with a troubled child. The priest who has experienced mercy may become a gentler confessor. The former prisoner may understand another prisoner's shame. The person who has survived homelessness may welcome another person from the street without condescension. The elderly person who feels hidden may transform years of solitude into hidden intercession (cf. 1 Tim 2:1–2). St Jeanne Jugan made the dignity of abandoned elderly people central to her vocation. St Marianne Cope approached people whom fear had taught others to avoid. St Damien of Molokai entered the world of those suffering from Hansen's disease and refused to let their abandonment remain invisible. Their lives reveal the final movement of Mercy: we receive refuge so that we may become refuge (cf. 2 Cor 1:4). The Eucharist takes the frightened heart, teaches it to remain, nourishes it with Christ, purifies its fears, and gradually sends it toward another frightened heart (cf. Jn 13:34–35). Thus the deepest safety is not self-preservation. It is surrender into Love so profound that even suffering can become communion, weakness can become dependence, wounds can become compassion, and death itself can become passage toward fullness of life (cf. Jn 11:25–26). The Eucharistic Christ does not promise the pilgrim a world without danger; He offers something infinitely deeper—the invincible security of belonging to Him .

Prayer

Oh Adorable Jesus, be  our safety when uncertainty overwhelms us and our strength when we are weak. Hide us within Your Mercy. When we do not understand, teach us trust; when we fall, raise us again; when we suffer, remain near us . Make our hearts quiet sanctuaries where wounded, frightened, and forgotten souls encounter Your peace. Amen.

Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.

Souls Who Become Jesus’ Heaven on Earth

 Divine Appeal Reflection - 159

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 159:  "My heaven on earth is in the souls who accept Me. How few they are."

There is something profoundly tender in the mystery of Our Adorable Jesus desiring to dwell within a human being. The God who possesses everything chooses intimate communion with a creature who can forget Him, resist His grace, misunderstand His ways, and even wound others while sincerely believing that he loves . This is the astonishing humility of Divine Love: the human heart becomes capable, by grace, of receiving the very God for whom it was created . Yet when Christ enters that interior sanctuary, He encounters not a perfected life but the truth of the person—memories still painful, disappointments not fully surrendered, fears concerning tomorrow, desires needing purification, wounds hidden from others, resentments quietly carried, and the weariness that comes from appearing strong for too long . A mother may faithfully care for her family while secretly fearing she has failed; a priest may proclaim hope while enduring an interior loneliness known only to God; a young person may appear confident while wondering whether life has meaning; an elderly person may feel forgotten while still longing to love and be useful . Yet Jesus does not wait for such hearts to become impressive. He comes precisely into their poverty (cf. Mt 5:3; Lk 1:52–53). Mary surrendered without possessing the whole explanation (cf. Lk 1:34–38), and Joseph obeyed while walking through uncertainty (cf. Mt 1:19–24). The mystical life begins here: allowing Christ to meet us as we truly are, rather than presenting Him with a carefully edited version of ourselves .

But there is a deeper threshold beyond enjoying the presence of Our Adorable Jesus: the surrender of the self to His lordship. It is possible to experience tenderness in prayer while secretly resisting conversion; to love Eucharistic adoration while protecting an unforgiven wound; to admire the saints while defending our pride; to ask God to bless our plans without ever asking whether those plans were born from His will . The Scriptures expose this divided heart with startling honesty. The rich young man (cf. Mk 10:17–22) came seeking eternal life, yet one attachment held him back from total freedom . Peter loved Christ deeply, yet resisted the mystery of the Cross because his understanding of love was still being purified (cf. Mt 16:21–23). Jonah knew God's command but recoiled when divine mercy was extended to those he considered undeserving (cf. Jon 1:1–3; 4:1–11). The heart can kneel before God while still secretly negotiating with Him. This is why conversion is far deeper than correcting outward behavior. The Catechism presents conversion as an interior turning of the whole person toward God (cf. CCC 1427–1431). Our Adorable Jesus therefore seeks entrance into precisely those chambers we instinctively lock: our relationship with money, sexuality, ambition, authority, affection, family, reputation, technology, success, failure, and even our religious self-image (cf. Mt 6:21; Mt 5:28; Phil 2:3–5). Mystically, surrender means allowing Christ to become Lord not only of what we willingly display, but also of what we desperately protect. The final sanctuary He desires is the hidden throne of the will. There the soul must move from saying, “Jesus, remain with me,” to the far more costly prayer, “Jesus, reign in me.” (cf. Gal 2:20; Lk 22:42). When that surrender begins, prayer ceases to be merely an experience of God's presence and becomes the gradual death of everything that prevents His love from possessing the heart.

The Eucharist makes this mystery almost unbearable in its intimacy. At Communion, the Creator comes beneath sacramental signs into the life of a creature. The One whom angels adore enters the mouth of an ordinary human being and seeks communion with that person's entire existence (cf. Jn 6:51–58; 1 Cor 10:16). The Church (cf. CCC 1391–1392) teaches that the Eucharist deepens union with Christ and strengthens charity . Yet this creates a searching question: What happens after Jesus enters me? If He enters my heart, can I still deliberately cultivate hatred? If He gives Himself to me, can I continue refusing mercy? If He becomes my food, can I remain indifferent to someone who is hungry? The Eucharistic Lord desires to transform communion into conformity. St Peter Julian Eymard saw Eucharistic life as a school of self-giving. St Manuel González García developed a deeply tender spirituality of companionship with the abandoned Eucharistic Jesus.  A person who remains after Mass for five quiet minutes, not because there is an obligation but because love wants to linger, begins to discover this mystery. A nurse may receive Communion before beginning a difficult shift and consciously offer every patient to Jesus. A father may receive Christ and then choose not to answer his irritated child with irritation. A businessman may leave Mass determined to refuse a dishonest transaction. A religious may return from Communion and perform an unpleasant duty without resentment. A grieving person may receive Jesus while unable to solve the grief and simply allow herself to be held by Him. Eucharistic union becomes authentic when the Presence received at the altar gradually enters our speech, reactions, decisions, relationships, and sacrifices . The tabernacle then continues into the human person.

There is a further mystical secret: when Jesus truly finds a dwelling in a soul, He begins to make that soul a dwelling for others. Divine love never terminates in private spiritual satisfaction. Mary carried Christ to Elizabeth, and the presence of Jesus within her became joy for another household (cf. Lk 1:39–45). The disciples in Jerusalem became a community through which Christ's life was experienced in prayer, fellowship, generosity, and Eucharistic communion (cf. Acts 2:42–47). Stephen carried Christ even into persecution, where his response revealed the mercy of the One who possessed him (cf. Acts 7:54–60). Paul (cf. 2 Cor 12:14–15) became willing to spend himself for souls rather than merely speak about Christ . This is why holiness cannot remain locked inside devotional experiences. A woman who has genuinely encountered Jesus becomes slower to humiliate people. A man who has spent time before the Eucharist becomes more capable of patience at home. A priest who truly carries people before Christ becomes less interested in gossiping about their weaknesses. A teacher begins to see the troublesome student not as an interruption but as a person entrusted to his love. A manager refuses to exploit an employee because the dignity of that person is no longer merely an economic consideration (cf. Gen 1:26–27; CCC 1934–1935). St Vincent de Paul discovered Christ in the poor. St Damien of Molokai entered the suffering of people whom society feared. St Josephine Bakhita transformed an extraordinarily wounded past into a life of forgiveness and belonging to God. St Charles de Foucauld discovered that hidden union with Jesus must overflow into universal fraternity. The Catechism (cf. CCC 1822–1829; 2013) teaches that charity toward neighbour flows from love of God and that every Christian is called to holiness according to his or her state of life . The mystical soul therefore becomes strangely transparent: people may encounter something of Christ's patience, mercy, truth, and tenderness through an ordinary human being. Jesus makes His dwelling in one heart so that His love may reach another.

Perhaps the deepest contradiction of the spiritual life is this: we want Our Adorable Jesus to become our heaven without allowing Him to become our Lord. We desire His peace while resisting His purification, His consolation while avoiding His Cross, His promises while guarding our own conditions . The Catechism (cf. CCC 2012–2014; Mt 5:48) reminds us that holiness is the perfection of charity and that every Christian is called to this fullness . The mystical life, therefore, is not reserved for extraordinary visions or remarkable experiences; it begins wherever divine love is allowed to enter ordinary existence. Grace can quietly transform washing dishes, preparing an examination, caring for a child, sitting beside a dying parent, reconciling with a spouse, preparing a homily, working honestly, nursing the sick, enduring unemployment, or forgiving someone who may never recognise what it cost us . A kitchen can become a sanctuary of hidden charity; a hospital bed a place of surrender; a classroom an altar of faithful effort; a workshop a school of integrity; a monastery a hidden furnace of intercession . Wherever love is freely offered to God and neighbour, ordinary existence begins to open into communion with Christ (cf. Jn 15:4–5; CCC 260).The decisive moment is interior consent: “Jesus, You may enter here too.” Then heaven begins quietly within earthly existence. The heart may still struggle, but it has found its center; it may still suffer, but suffering is no longer meaningless; it may still fall, but it knows the road home (cf. Lk 15:17–24). Even death begins to lose its final terror because Christ has become the soul's life . The heart becomes His dwelling not because it has become flawless, but because it has become available. And here lies the astonishing mystery: Our Adorable Jesus is not searching first for extraordinary people. He seeks ordinary souls willing to be completely loved, gradually transformed, wholly surrendered, and finally sent. The soul that permits this becomes not merely a servant who works for Christ, but a dwelling through which Christ Himself continues to love the world (cf. Gal 2:20; 2 Cor 5:20).

Prayer

O Adorable Jesus, come gently into every hidden corner of our hearts.  Let our homes, work, relationships, responsibilities, and trials become places where we encounter and serve You. Heal what is wounded, purify what is disordered, strengthen what is weak, and receive what we cannot carry alone. Remain within us and transform us, until our ordinary lives quietly reveal the beauty of Your love . Amen.

Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.

Divine Appeal 159

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

(Revelation to Sr Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist)

VOLUME 1


“My Heart is overflowing with Mercy.”

“My daughter, listen. Pray more earnestly. Bring Me souls in your prayers. I come to seek shelter. In your fears and troubles, My Sacrament of Love should impart the grace of perseverance. In this Sacrament I give Myself to you where... the majesty of the Divinity seems to be debased. Mankind has many miseries, but if they rely on Me from the treasure of My Mercy I enable them to rely on Me in safety. My heaven on earth is in the souls who accept Me. How few they are. I pour My tears of blood over this world. The souls I love so much do not understand to what extent.

The souls consecrated to Me have whipped and abused Me.

Behold the fountain of all blessing in the Sacrament of My Love. Day and night I am watching and waiting for souls. Consider how I have humiliated Myself to remain a prisoner in the tabernacle for the love of mankind. My ministers are worriless and tranquil and through them many souls have fallen into perdition. What more could I have suffered for this mankind?

As I am exposed I will pour the treasures of My infinite Mercy in the hearts of human souls. Pray more and cloister souls in your heart. My heart is overflowing with mercy and love for each and every soul. I am in great need to save the world. I need the desire for atonement to appease the wrath of My Eternal Father.

My Divine Mercy will be followed by Divine Justice. In this sacrilegious struggle much of what has been created by man will be demolished due to impulsive and enraged resistance. I call on each soul to come back to My sheepfold before it is too late. Pray a great deal. The demon is disposed to mislead in the centre of My Church.”

“I bless you.”

2.00 a.m., 7th June 1988

Copyright © 2015 The Late Bishop Cornelius K. Arap Korir | Catholic Diocese of Eldoret, Kenya. All rights reserved. Reproduced by adivineappeal.com from "On the Eucharist: A Divine Appeal" (Vol. 1).