The Outstretched Hand of Christ

Divine Appeal Reflection - 239

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 239: "Remember that I am here visible and that I am stretching out a helping hand. I am always the Lamb of My Eternal Father who takes away the sins of the world. Do not be troubled how you should Love Me and serve Me. For I am all simplicity."

There are seasons in every vocation when the soul feels like it's slipping beneath unseen waves. Even if a priest attends Mass every day with fidelity, he may return to a rectory that is more like a refuge than a home and wonder if his sermons have become insignificant to cold listeners. A religious sister may serve generously, yet deep down battles a quiet ache for the intimacy with God she once knew. A layperson, sincerely striving to live a holy life amid stress, failures, and routine, may begin to wonder if their love truly matters to the One they long to serve. In these small but piercing moments, it’s easy to believe that God has stepped back, that His help is now conditional or distant. But this is never the truth. Our Adorable Jesus remains near—nearer than the doubt, nearer than the silence. His hand is not clenched in judgment but open in mercy, gently reaching out to steady the soul that feels unworthy, exhausted, or simply overwhelmed.

This is not abstract imagery; it is the Gospel made flesh again. Throughout Scripture, the hand of Christ acts with intentional tenderness—pulling Peter from sinking waters (cf. Matthew 14:31), laying healing fingers on the blind (cf. Mark 8:23), lifting a dead girl to life with a touch (cf. Luke 8:54). He draws near before anyone even asks. The Catechism affirms this movement of divine love—God’s grace always comes first, preceding every human effort (cf. CCC 1996, 2001). The outstretched hand of Jesus is not passive. It is the constant movement of heaven toward the wounded, the unsure, the faltering. This is why Saint Thérèse trusted in littleness and surrender. She knew holiness was not climbing to reach God but allowing oneself to be carried by Him.

Saint Teresa of Avila spoke with wisdom forged in both mystical union and everyday struggle: God is not found only in ecstasies, but in pots, pans, and perseverance. Holiness is not a competition of feelings or achievements—it is a hidden friendship with Christ who walks quietly beside the soul. Even Saint John of the Cross, in the deepest night of interior darkness, recognized the silent presence of Jesus still reaching out. To take that hand requires humility, not strength—a willingness to be helped rather than to prove oneself holy. This is the mystery of Divine Simplicity: He does not hide behind perfection. He comes close through mercy.

To grasp the hand of Christ is to let go of every illusion of control. It is to stop evaluating one’s spiritual worth by success or applause and begin living from the truth that Christ is enough. In every vocation—whether in the cloister, the confessional, or the domestic kitchen—there is the temptation to perform rather than to abide. But our Adorable Jesus is not impressed by performance. He is moved by surrender. His hand reaches not to the proud achiever but to the soul that dares to be still. He descends into the ordinary, waiting to raise the soul into His extraordinary peace.

Prayer:

O Adorable Jesus, stretch out Your hand to all of us who stumble, who forget, who grow weary. Teach our hearts to love You with simplicity, to serve You without fear, and to trust in Your constant mercy. Hold us close when we drift, and lead us always back to You. 

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