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The Daily Cross of the Pope

Divine Appeal Reflection - 254

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 254: "The pope will suffer very much."

The prophecy that “the pope will suffer very much” is not merely a solemn warning—it is a piercing unveiling of the mystical participation the Roman Pontiff has in the Passion of Our Adorable Jesus. The papacy is not a throne of earthly glory, but a cross uniquely conformed to Christ’s. Every pope, in ways both seen and unseen, walks a narrow path marked by suffering for the sake of the Church. This is no abstract idea. From the gunshots that tore through St. John Paul II’s body in 1981, to the labored breathing and infections that increasingly confined Pope Francis in his final years, the Body of Peter has become a living icon of the Suffering Servant (cf. Is 53). These afflictions are not accidents of old age or the price of public office. They are permitted, even mysteriously willed, by divine Providence, so that the Vicar of Christ might drink, in a unique measure, the chalice prepared for him (cf. Mt 20:22).

Yet beyond the physical anguish lies a heavier, more hidden passion: the interior crucifixion of the heart. The pope, like Christ, must suffer contradiction from sinners (cf. Heb 12:3). He is daily burdened with a global flood of moral and theological crises, each demanding a word that balances justice and mercy. Pope Francis, now laid to rest, endured this storm of division. He was simultaneously hailed as a reformer and condemned as a destroyer. His attempts at dialogue, renewal, and outreach often left him a stranger to both progressives and traditionalists alike. Yet is this not the imprint of Christ? Praised by the crowds and crucified days later, Our Lord revealed the cost of true leadership in the Kingdom. In this same spirit, the pope must be both lamb and shepherd, intercessor and lightning rod, servant and cornerstone. In him, as in no other human role, is fulfilled St. Paul’s mysterious saying: that what is lacking in the sufferings of Christ is filled up through the suffering of His Mystical Body (cf. Col 1:24).

History confirms that this burden is not confined to modernity. Pius XII bore the solitary agony of shepherding during World War II, accused of silence by some, praised for hidden heroism by others. Blessed Paul VI wept over Humanae Vitae, knowing its teaching would provoke uproar and yet refusing to betray the truth about human life and love. St. John Paul II wrestled with Communism, culture wars, and personal threats, all while preaching the dignity of man redeemed by Christ. Today, Pope Leo XIV inherits not only the Petrine office, but the full weight of a Church in labor: wounded by scandal, stretched by ideological factions, and tossed upon the waves of global upheaval. His words, actions, and silences will be scrutinized by billions. But hidden beneath each papal gesture is a mystical vocation: to stand in Christ’s stead as a sign of contradiction (cf. Lk 2:34), and to preserve the unity of the Church not by dominance, but by sacrificial love.

This suffering of the pope is not accidental nor empty—it is a hidden participation in the redeeming mystery of Christ’s Cross. According to the Church’s teaching, it is by divine design that the Roman Pontiff serves as the enduring and outward sign of unity for both the college of bishops and the entire community of believers (cf. CCC 882). Yet such unity is not preserved by power, but by love crucified. The agony borne by Peter’s successor becomes, in the hands of God, a mystical fountain through which grace flows into the veins of the Church. His daily trials, offered in union with the Eternal High Priest, take on a sacrificial character—an invisible martyrdom endured so that the Body of Christ may be healed and remain one. 

As Church members, we cannot watch helplessly. We are all asked to stand beside the Holy Father, not from a distance but with hearts moved by love, just as Our Lady stayed obediently at the foot of the Cross. By making our own daily sacrifices, we are encouraged to share in his burden, pray with him, and yes, even cry with him when the weight becomes too much for him to handle alone. Now, as the Petrine Cross passes from the worn hands of Pope Francis to the newly chosen Pope Leo XIV, may every Catholic heart be stirred to rise in prayerful support. For behind the solemn white robes stands a man chosen to carry Christ’s Cross for the sake of us all. For though the faces of the popes change, the chalice remains—and it is the same Christ who strengthens, sustains, and sanctifies the Rock that shall never be broken.

Prayer

O Our Adorable Jesus, You have chosen the popes to share deeply in Your Passion for the sake of Your Church. We thank You for the sacrifice of Pope Francis, and we entrust Pope Leo XIV to Your pierced Heart. Strengthen him with grace. May our prayers console him in suffering. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 254

 ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME II


If mankind do not repent, a terrible scourge of fire will descend from
heaven. It will be a fearful moment. The Godless will be destroyed.
Many nations will be purified and many of them will completely
disappear from the face of the Earth!

My daughter, listen well, I am the Lord of the revelation!
With an anguished heart I beg you to do penance, acts
of reparation and contrition for mankind.

In the Sacrament of My Love keep Me company. I am
bent over all mankind. But the times are terrible: I am bleeding from
pain and My heart is torn into pieces by this corrupted mankind!
My daughter, pray a great deal and do not tire. Dark and fearful
days are approaching. Rulers of the world talk about peace and they
prepare themselves for war. Mankind will fall in this mire of errors!
Men have lost My Eternal Father’s life. They are dominated by the
spirit of the Red Lucifer. My Eternal Father’s Justice weighs over a
slime-splattered humanity. The roads are washed in their own blood.
Many diseases will come and also hunger, earthquakes, deluges,
wars!

If mankind do not repent, a terrible scourge of fire will descend from
heaven. It will be a fearful moment. The Godless will be destroyed.
Many nations will be purified and many of them will completely
disappear from the face of the Earth!

Almost all mankind abuses Me, despising Me, not believing in Me.
They only know of the most deadly weapon; the dictators of the
Earth, truly infernal monsters, will destroy My churches and the
Sacred Tabernacles. In this Sacrilegious struggle, due to unbridled
pleasure, savage impulses and bloody opposition, everything made
by the hand of men will be destroyed.

Do not lose time, it is precious, pray and atone before it is too late
because the heavy darkness is surrounding the whole Earth. The
world has lost its senses, and the times are even worse than that of
the great deluge.

Many revolutions will break out, and the roads will be blood-washed.
The pope will suffer very much. But the punishment of the impious
will not delay and that day will be fearful in a terrible way.

I want you to submit yourself totally to My Will, do not be afraid!
I want your complete obedience to My Apostle, listen and heed his
words to you. What I have accomplished in you is a very great grace!

Many swords will wound your heart because of My Love. Pray,
keep Me company in the Sacrament of My Love, atone, do penance
and pray the Rosary. Cloister all souls in your heart.

26th August 1999

3.00 a.m.

Copyright © 2015 Bishop Cornelius K. Arap Korir, Catholic Diocese of Eldoret, Kenya. 
All rights reserved. Reproduced from ON THE EUCHARIST: A DIVINE APPEAL, Volume II by www.adivineappeal.com 

The Near Blow of Divine Justice

Divine Appeal Reflection - 253

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 253: "... if mankind do not cease offending My Eternal Father, Divine Justice will send to Earth in the not too distant future its due punishment. It will be the worst ever seen in human history. I want mankind to know the first blow is near.."

When Our Blessed Lord speaks the words, “I want mankind to know the first blow is near,” He offers not a threat, but a solemn act of mercy. In Catholic tradition, Divine Mercy always precedes Divine Justice — not to remove it, but to prepare souls to receive it rightly (cf. CCC 200–201). The voice of Christ here is like the voice of the prophets sent before the fall of Jerusalem, who warned and wept before calamity came (cf. Jeremiah 7:25–27; Matthew 23:37). His desire that we know of the impending blow means that He still hopes for repentance, for conversion, for return (cf. 2 Peter 3:9). It is the loving cry of a Father whose children have strayed far from home (cf. Luke 15:20–24). But He will not remain silent forever. In His justice, He will act to purify the earth, to awaken consciences, and to reclaim what is His (cf. Malachi 3:2–3). The blow is not symbolic only — it is real, and it is near, because mercy unheeded must yield to justice (cf. Hebrews 10:26–27).

Theologically, this impending chastisement is not to be confused with divine vengeance or irrational wrath. God does not punish as man punishes (cf. Hosea 11:9). His Justice is ordered, measured, and always aims toward restoration (cf. Wisdom 12:1–2). When man sins personally, he wounds his own soul. When societies institutionalize sin — by redefining marriage, normalizing abortion, desecrating the sacred priesthood, and silencing God’s truth — the very foundation of moral order is overturned (cf. Romans 1:21–32). This rebellion against God’s law is not neutral; it tears at the fabric of creation (cf. Isaiah 24:5–6). And thus, the first blow is necessary, not because God is impatient, but because man has become deaf (cf. Zechariah 7:11–13). It is, in effect, a divine correction — a spiritual surgery to excise the gangrene of sin before it consumes the body of humanity (cf. Hebrews 12:6–11).

Philosophically, man was made with reason and free will, to know truth and to choose good (cf. CCC 1730–1733). But when truth is suppressed and evil is called good (cf. Isaiah 5:20), society collapses in on itself. It ceases to be human in the fullest sense. Today, disorder touches everything: families where parents no longer guide in truth (cf. Ephesians 6:4), a Church where clear teaching is traded for comfort (cf. Galatians 1:6–9), and a culture where youth are led by feelings, not formed by conscience (cf. Romans 12:2). Even the liturgy, heaven’s meeting with earth, is often treated with cold routine, not holy reverence (cf. Ecclesiastes 5:1; 1 Corinthians 11:27–29). These are not just moral failings — they are symptoms of a deeper rupture from God. The first blow, then, will expose this rupture, not to destroy hope, but to rescue it. It will be painful, yes — but also purifying (cf. Zechariah 13:9).

Even as the shadow of coming trials grows heavier, the voice of Jesus still reaches us — gentle, urgent, and full of mercy. When He says, “I want mankind to know,” He isn’t scolding or condemning; He’s inviting us to see that His Heart remains open, even as the world turns away (cf. Revelation 3:20). The first blow may be near, but His love is nearer. Like a Father watching at the door, Christ calls us back — to Confession, where mercy rewrites our story (cf. John 20:22–23); to the Rosary, a lifeline of grace in the storm; to the Eucharist, where He feeds us with His very Heart (cf. John 6:51–58); and to the Cross, where love speaks in blood (cf. Philippians 2:8–11). He longs for bold priests (cf. 2 Timothy 4:2), faithful homes (cf. Joshua 24:15), and young hearts that choose holiness over applause (cf. 1 Timothy 4:12). This isn’t a time to hesitate. Heaven’s trumpet is sounding — not to scare us, but to wake us up, to call us to stand firm (cf. 1 Thessalonians 5:2–6). The first blow is not the end. It is God’s final plea, His last knock at the door. Blessed are those who open their hearts now, while there is still time — before the silence falls (cf. Luke 12:35–40).

Prayer

O Adorable Jesus, Judge of the Nations and Redeemer of Mankind, You have not left us orphaned, but have spoken with piercing mercy. Open our eyes to the hour we live in. Let us not slumber in comfort while judgment nears. Awaken our hearts, O Lord, that we may live in reparation, watchfulness, and hope. May we be found faithful, and lead others to the shelter of Your Sacred Heart. Amen.

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

The Scandal of Judas in Our Time

Divine Appeal Reflection - 253

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 253:  "Mankind like Judas betrays My heart and drags souls down to perdition to chase blindly after them."

When our Adorable Jesus speaks of betrayal, He speaks not only as the Crucified One of Calvary, but as the Eternal Word pierced again by His own people in every generation. This Divine Appeal unveils a sorrow that surpasses all earthly grief: mankind, like Judas, continues to betray His Sacred Heart. This is not merely about sin in general, but a specific kind of sin — betrayal from those who know Him. Judas did not act from ignorance, but from hardened will; he had heard Christ’s voice, touched His hands, shared His table — and yet handed Him over for a lesser love. Such is the terrifying echo today: those consecrated to Him, those who teach in His name, those formed by His sacraments, yet choose the thirty silver coins of modern idols — comfort, power, relevance, pleasure — and worse still, drag others behind them into ruin.

This betrayal is tragically manifest in many states of life. A priest, desiring acceptance over truth, dilutes the Gospel until it has no salt, leaving souls starved of the Bread of Life. A sister, once vowed to poverty and prayer, pursues activism that forgets Christ, trading the habit of Mary for the language of politics. Parents, formed in the faith, fail to pass it on, preoccupied with worldly success, and soon watch their children drift toward atheism and spiritual confusion. The youth, unmoored from clarity, follow influencers and ideologies that praise sin as liberation and mock virtue as oppression. These are not isolated cases. They form a pattern — a spiritual pandemic of disorientation, where those entrusted with light instead walk into darkness and, worse, carry others with them. In the language of the Gospel, the blind lead the blind, and both fall into the pit (cf. Matthew 15:14).

Yet what makes this betrayal more tragic is that it proceeds “to chase blindly after them.” Mankind does not just fall — it pursues the fall. Judas not only betrayed; he tried to justify his plan, deceived by a logic that separated love from truth. Likewise, many today claim love but reject doctrine, claim mercy but forsake repentance. They build their houses on sand, ignoring the storm (cf. Matthew 7:26-27), all the while gathering crowds to admire the architecture. But love that leads away from Christ is not love — it is a lie dressed in sentiment. Only fidelity to His Sacred Heart, to the voice of the Shepherd (cf. John 10:27), can preserve us from this descent. When we betray truth for popularity, we do not walk alone — we carry with us the eternal consequence of souls misled.

Still, the voice of Jesus in this Divine Appeal is not void of hope. He reveals His wound not to destroy, but to invite repentance. His Heart is not closed — it is pierced and open, still offering grace. To the priest, the sister, the parent, the youth: He pleads for return. Unlike Peter, who denied Christ in fear but repented in tears and returned to become a rock of fidelity, Judas embraced his fall through calculated defiance, using intimacy with Christ as a means of his own agenda. The Divine Heart is still calling us to be repairers, not destroyers, of the vineyard. Our world is dark with confusion and spiritual treason, but those who choose to hear His voice and amend their lives become beacons — they show that fidelity is still possible. In this hour, to live the truth is not only holiness; it is rescue. Souls depend on our integrity. Let us not be the reason they fall — let us be the reason they find their way home.

Prayer

O our Adorable Jesus, betrayed by Your own, yet always merciful, receive our sorrow and repentance. Grant us the courage to be faithful amid confusion, and the grace to guide others in Your truth. May our lives repair what sin has shattered, and draw many back to Your Sacred Heart. Amen.

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

Modern Confusion and Abominations

Divine Appeal Reflection - 253

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 253: "Heed My words which  are of the utmost authority and security in confused times like these. Listen to Me then you will be certain of not falling into confusion and abominations!"

In these troubled and bewildering times, our Adorable Jesus cries out with divine urgency. His voice is not one of many, but the voice of Eternal Truth calling His beloved back to certainty, to life, and to the safety of obedience. He pleads with us to listen—not simply to hear, but to interiorly receive and follow His word. He does not invite us into mere religious sentiment, but into a living relationship anchored in divine wisdom. Like the Lord in Deuteronomy (cf. Deut 30:15–20), He sets before us life and death, and urges us to choose life—life rooted in fidelity, clarity, and the simplicity of the Gospel. Yet today, we witness confusion in every sphere. From within the Church to the family home, from university classrooms to digital platforms, voices abound—but few echo the Word who became flesh.

In today’s world, confusion often disguises itself as compassion. Consider a catechist teaching children that all religions are the same, hoping to avoid offense but abandoning the distinct truth of the Catholic Faith. A parent, afraid of being judged, hesitates to correct a child embracing ideologies that deny natural law. A youth minister, passionate but misled, replaces Eucharistic adoration with entertainment, mistaking noise for evangelization. Or a priest, under cultural pressure, stops preaching about sin and confession for fear of losing the affection of his flock. Each example reveals how confusion enters—not always with evil intent, but through a failure to anchor every act in the voice of the Good Shepherd. As Isaiah warns (cf. Isa 30:1,15), when we follow plans not of God, we not only rebel—we make ourselves vulnerable to spiritual ruin. Our Adorable Jesus calls us to return to His word, where salvation and strength are found.

Today’s society offers endless options, yet few certainties. Moral relativism teaches that truth changes with time; yet the confusion it breeds leaves many lost and ashamed. A teenager, confused by the culture's message on identity, begins to despise their body and feel unloved. A religious sister, overwhelmed by secular activism, forgets the joy of hidden prayer. A seminarian, encountering dissent in formation, begins to doubt the Church’s moral authority. A father, exhausted by financial stress, stops praying with his family, and slowly, spiritual indifference takes root. These are not rare events. They are wounds formed where God’s word has been muffled. In Jeremiah (cf. Jer 6:16–19), the Lord tells His people to return to the old paths, to the good way where rest for the soul is found. But the people said, “We will not walk in it.” And so many today echo that refusal, whether by defiance or discouragement. Yet in His mercy, Jesus still speaks, still knocks, still waits. His word is a rock beneath our feet (cf. Matt 7:24–27), not sand.

The voice of Christ is not hidden—it is found in Sacred Scripture, the Magisterium, the witness of saints, and the silence of prayer. In a time when YouTube influencers, news anchors, false prophets, and disoriented clergy confuse the faithful, Christ's sheep must learn again to hear His voice (cf. John 10:27–28). Our Adorable Jesus assures us that if we heed His words, we will not fall into confusion and abomination. His truth brings peace—not worldly peace, but the quiet assurance that we are on the narrow road. This is what gives strength to a young woman who chooses modesty in a world that mocks it, to a confessor who upholds Church teaching when others do not, to parents who continue family rosary even when their teens roll their eyes. These small acts are the steps of souls who have listened. And Wisdom promises (cf. Prov 1:20–33) that those who do so will live securely, free from dread and ruin.

Prayer

O our Adorable Jesus, in this world torn by noise and error, help us to hear and obey Your voice. Make priests courageous in truth, sisters radiant in hidden prayer, parents firm in faith, and youth faithful in love. Preserve us from confusion and abomination, and keep us ever in Your heart. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 253

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL


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

VOLUME II

I have lowered myself to this level for Love of mankind. It pleased
Me to remain under the appearance of a white host since I am not
only the Bread of Life but I am Life Itself.

My daughter, listen to Me. I have come, I want you to write down all 
I tell you. I speak to you amid tears of blood. Heed My words which 
are of the utmost authority and security in confused times like these.
Listen to Me then you will be certain of not falling into confusion
and abominations!

Pray a great deal. Watch with Me. In the Sacrament of My Love keep
Me company. I thirst, quench My thirst with souls. Time is reaping
what has been sown. My daughter, I implore you to be consumed
with a desire to Love, in this way nothing will be a burden to you.
All your human miseries are known to Me and My Love and care is
great for them.

I have lowered myself to this level for Love of mankind. It pleased
Me to remain under the appearance of a white host since I am not
only the Bread of Life but I am Life Itself.

In the Sacrament of My Love it was unknown to Me how much this
institution would cost Me. In the prison of My Tabernacle I wait all
nights and days for souls to come and get all the graces they need.
I pour My tears of blood in pain, when I am forced to say! The world
renews My wounds in My hand and in My feet and it sullies My
countenance.

To the souls I entrusted souls I am totally theirs and very obedient to
their word when they summon Me from heaven to Earth.

My daughter, I implore you, do not lose time, pray, repair, do acts
of reparation not only for yourself; do penance – all this before it is
too late. For Love of mankind I am present in the Sacrament of My
Love, day and night I long and wait for souls in the prison of My
tabernacle yet mankind offend My Eternal Father so much. I want
mankind to know the seriousness of the present state of the world
and to understand the inexorable Justice of My Eternal Father. It is
urgent.

Mankind like Judas betrays My heart and drags souls down to
perdition to chase blindly after them.

Listen to Me, do not be afraid. It is I who want it this way! I want
your complete abandon. You have to live for My church alone. This
is My command. Be obedient and attentive to My Apostle of the last
days. You must obey My words in him. I order you to do so!

Pray a great deal, if mankind do not cease offending My Eternal
Father, Divine Justice will send to Earth in the not too distant future
its due punishment. It will be the worst ever seen in human history.
I want mankind to know the first blow is near.

My Eternal Father will not be mocked forever.

1st April 1999

3.00 a.m.

Copyright © 2015 Bishop Cornelius K. Arap Korir, Catholic Diocese of Eldoret, Kenya. 
All rights reserved. Reproduced from ON THE EUCHARIST: A DIVINE APPEAL, Volume II by www.adivineappeal.com 

Holy Mass: Where Justice Meets Mercy

Divine Appeal Reflection - 252

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 252:  "The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass is the greatest prayer, for all your lifetime you will never understand its greatness."

To contemplate this Divine Appeal is to be drawn into a mystery so vast and radiant that the soul must bow in humility before it. In the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, time and eternity are drawn into an embrace so profound that it confounds the limits of human understanding. This is not a mere religious gathering, but the very altar on which divine justice and mercy are eternally reconciled through the Victim who is both God and Man. The greatness of the Mass lies not in what can be seen or heard with the senses, but in what occurs behind the veil—invisible to the eye, yet radiantly true. It is here that Our Adorable Jesus offers Himself in an unbloody manner, mystically continuing the same sacrifice He made on Calvary. While we remain bound in time, the Mass opens for us a crack in the temporal order—a doorway into the once-for-all moment of redemption. We are permitted to stand within the divine exchange between the Father and the Son, mediated by the Spirit, and enveloped in the embrace of the Church militant, suffering, and triumphant (cf. CCC 1367; Heb 9:12). 

Justice demands the full restoration of the divine order disturbed by sin. Mercy desires the healing of the sinner without the destruction of the beloved. The mystery of the Mass is that God does not suspend justice to show mercy, nor does He diminish mercy in order to uphold justice. Rather, both find their full expression in the Eternal Word made flesh, crucified and glorified. At every Mass, the self-offering of Christ is not repeated, but re-presented, made sacramentally present. In this mystery, we see the highest theology made flesh: the justice of God satisfied by God Himself, and the mercy of God poured out through the pierced heart of the Son. The altar becomes the new Mount Moriah, where the Father provides the Lamb, not withheld but willingly given. To attend Mass is not simply to fulfill a duty; it is to be swept into this divine drama where we, though utterly unworthy, are drawn into the offering—not as spectators, but as co-offering souls, united in Christ’s oblation (cf. Rom 12:1).

Philosophically, the Mass challenges the modern notion of utility and immediacy. It is not about what we “get” but about what is eternally given. The Mass stands as a sign of contradiction in a culture that no longer comprehends sacred time or objective worship. Here, mystery rules, and love takes the form of sacrifice. The Mass is the form of divine wisdom, where the Logos—order and meaning itself—chooses to be veiled in bread and wine, and where the greatest act of God is made present under the appearance of fragility. In the Holy Mass, man is reminded that he was created not to consume, but to offer; not to grasp, but to adore. It teaches the soul to receive everything and claim nothing. That is why even a single, devoutly attended Mass bears more fruit for the world than a thousand good works apart from it. It is the furnace of divine charity, where the soul is formed, reordered, and reoriented toward eternity.

We must return, then, to this sacred act with reverent awe and spiritual hunger. Even if our intellects fail to comprehend its magnitude, our hearts must learn to kneel before its mystery. Every Mass is heaven touching earth; every consecration, the echo of Calvary; every Amen, a yes that binds us to the Cross and Resurrection. The more we live the Mass—not just attend it—the more we are transformed by the logic of Christ’s love: total gift, total surrender. The Mass is not ours to measure, but to receive. And in receiving, we are called to respond—by living lives marked by sacrifice, mercy, and fidelity. For indeed, all of eternity may be needed to begin to grasp what we were given every day: God made present for us, offered for us, remaining with us in the most humble and yet most glorious of ways.

Prayer:

O Our Adorable Jesus, hidden in the mystery of the Holy Mass, open our eyes to the grandeur of Your perfect sacrifice. Though we are unworthy, let us be united to Your offering of justice and mercy. May we never approach Your altar without love, awe, and thanksgiving. Amen.

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

Living Each Day for Eternity

Divine Appeal Reflection - 252

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 252: "Live each day as the last day."

To truly embrace this profound Divine Appeal—a soul must first be awakened to the immense sacredness of time as the vessel of grace. Time is not merely the movement of seconds or the routine unfolding of days; it is the delicate thread by which eternity touches earth. Our existence, transient and fragile, rests not in our own hands but in the eternal will of the Almighty, who gives us each day not as a mere extension of breath, but as a summons to become what we are created to be: saints. It is in this light that the soul comes to realize that every day—no matter how ordinary—is not just another chance, but a sacred offering to God. The Catechism reminds us that our freedom and time are gifts to be ordered toward the good, ultimately toward God Himself, who is our end (cf. CCC 1731). When we waste time, we do not simply delay our progress—we betray a divine trust. Each day, then, becomes a vineyard entrusted to us, and our labor therein has eternal consequences.

Living as if each day were the last is not a theatrical dramatization of death, but a radical sanctification of life. It is a deep act of fidelity to Our Adorable Jesus, who lived each moment in perfect obedience to the Father’s will, knowing that His hour would come like a chalice to be drunk in full. For the soul that heeds this appeal, there is no trivial moment, no neutral time—only the now, filled with God’s summons. The smallest acts—washing a dish, forgiving a wound, whispering a prayer—become offerings of eternal value when united with the divine intention. Sacred Scripture whispers to us in quiet tones that today is the day of salvation (cf. 2 Cor 6:2), and the wise soul knows this truth not as information, but as formation. She does not defer holiness to some distant spiritual awakening, for she understands that delay is a subtle rejection of grace. She lives, instead, as a servant alert at the door, lamp trimmed, heart quietly burning with readiness.

Philosophically, to live with such awareness is to live in harmony with one’s final cause. Man, created with intellect and will, is not a creature made for passing pleasures but for eternal communion. The more he aligns his daily life with his eternal destiny, the more he becomes what he was meant to be: a living image of Christ. The Church’s tradition, echoing the ancient philosophers and the saints alike, reminds us that man is most free when he acts according to his highest purpose. To live today as the last is not anxiety, but clarity; not morbidity, but nobility. It lifts the soul above the tyranny of trivialities and sets it firmly in the realm of things eternal. It allows one to live not as a prisoner of fleeting desires, but as a pilgrim who walks with meaning, knowing every step matters. In this light, even suffering becomes luminous, for it is carried with purpose, in union with Christ’s redemptive love. The soul that walks in such light is not merely prepared for the last day—it yearns for it, not as an end, but as the long-awaited embrace of the Infinite.

In heeding this Divine Appeal, we are not merely called to live better—we are called to live differently. The world teaches us to delay what is uncomfortable, to consume without thought, to grasp for tomorrow while ignoring today. But Our Adorable Jesus calls us to an entirely new vision of life, one bathed in the eternal, where each day is a jewel to be polished and returned to the Giver. The Eucharist becomes the center, reconciliation the cleansing fire, and charity the beating heart of every action. Such a soul does not fear the hour of death, for it has already died daily to self and risen daily with Christ. When that final day arrives—whether in joy or trial—it is not a shock, but a long-anticipated meeting. The soul that has lived as if every day were the last will not look back with regret, but forward with love. He will say, “At last, my Lord, I have waited for You in every dawn and nightfall. Take me to Yourself.”

Prayer:

O Our Adorable Jesus, help us to live each day as the last, with love, mercy, and readiness. Teach us to see Your face in time and prepare for eternity with fervent hearts. May we use each breath to glorify You. Grant us grace to live, suffer, and love as if heaven begins today. Amen.

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

Daily Persecutions from Malicious Propaganda

Divine Appeal Reflection - 252

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 252: "Some malicious propaganda has spread many errors throughout the world provoking many persecutions in the world."

In this Divine Appeal, Jesus reveals not merely a lament, but a spiritual diagnosis: the spread of malicious propaganda has become the engine of persecution in our time. These are not just falsehoods, but calculated distortions that seek to replace the Gospel with a man-made creed. The modern world, having dethroned God, does not rest in neutrality—it invents new dogmas and demands obedience to them. As a result, the soul that lives for truth becomes a contradiction in the eyes of society. The persecution Christ speaks of today often comes dressed in tolerance, progress, and inclusion, yet it is a veiled intolerance for the holy. The Church herself, once a mother to nations, now finds her faithful children ridiculed, censored, or quietly exiled—not always by violence, but by policies, ideologies, and manipulations that serve another spirit (cf. Ephesians 6:12).

This assault has not spared those consecrated to Christ. The priest who lovingly defends the sanctity of marriage, or teaches the Real Presence without compromise, may be accused of being divisive or outdated. A nun who speaks out against abortion or gender ideology is labeled intolerant—but she imitates the courage of Mary beneath the Cross. A seminary professor who defends the Magisterium against modern reinterpretations faces scorn, yet bears witness to the Bride’s purity. These are subtle persecutions, but no less painful. They wound the soul through isolation, suspicion, or rejection from within the household of faith. But these souls, remaining hidden and faithful, form the mystical backbone of reparation. In their silence, Jesus finds a voice. In their endurance, He is loved again. Their fidelity is not a performance, but a gift offered in Gethsemane's shadow (cf. John 15:20).

Within families, the battle takes a deeper, often more personal tone. Parents who uphold moral boundaries for their children are accused of bigotry or emotional harm. When a mother refuses to celebrate her daughter’s decision to abandon the faith, or a father gently but firmly resists ideological education in his home, they suffer the anguish of being labeled as enemies by those they love most. A Catholic teacher quietly removing inappropriate content from a school library risks disciplinary action. A medical worker refusing to participate in practices contrary to the Gospel of life may lose their position. These are not rare exceptions—they are signs of a civilization redefining virtue as vice, and vice as virtue (cf. Isaiah 5:20). Yet, even in such trials, these witnesses become hidden tabernacles of grace. The kitchen table where the Rosary is prayed, the quiet hour before the Blessed Sacrament, the act of kindness to a hostile neighbor—these are the sacred wounds that bleed mercy into the world.

For each of us, this is not a call to fear, but to fortitude. We are not abandoned—we are being summoned to stand with Jesus, not above the battle but within it. The Church has always walked the way of contradiction: loved by Heaven, opposed by the world. But now more than ever, Christ asks us not merely to resist lies, but to repair truth. Through patient study, prayer, fasting, and witness, our ordinary lives can confront extraordinary darkness. One elderly man offers his arthritic pain for souls; a young woman remains chaste in a culture that mocks purity; a tradesman quietly prays for his persecutors while enduring slander. These acts, though hidden, are joined to Christ’s Passion. They become the balm that soothes His pierced Heart. Let us not grow weary. Persecution will deepen, but so will grace. Heaven is not measuring the volume of applause, but the depth of our love. If we remain with Him, even in silence, we are helping truth rise again.

Prayer:

Our Adorable Jesus, Light hidden in suffering, help us endure every rejection for Your sake. When lies prevail, make us witnesses of truth. Let our tears, prayers, and small sacrifices become flames of love that soothe Your wounded Heart. Strengthen us to stand with You, even when the world turns away. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 252

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME II

The flock is about to be dispersed! I want everybody to know the first
blow is near. An unforeseen fire will descend over the whole Earth.

My daughter, pray a great deal, keep Me company in the Sacrament of 
My Love. My heart is pierced with sufferings, I speak to you amid tears 
of blood. There is only avarice in acquiring new lands in order to
dominate them like thieving wolves.

Pray and atone. Some malicious propaganda has spread many errors
throughout the world provoking many persecutions in the world.
The flock is about to be dispersed! I want everybody to know the first
blow is near. An unforeseen fire will descend over the whole Earth.
Men live in the obstinacy of sin, but My Eternal Father’s wrath is
near and the whole world will be tormented by great calamities;
revolutions, strong bloody earthquakes, famines, epidemics, and
terrible hurricanes will force the seas and rivers to overflow.
The world will be entirely transformed by a terrible war! The most
deadly weapons will destroy mankind. It is unthinkable what My
Eternal Father will do. Live each day as the last day.
Pray and repair.

The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass is the greatest prayer, for all your
lifetime you will never understand its greatness.
There is a struggle that the world cannot see, the struggle between
My Eternal Father and the red Lucifer. My Mercy is immense, their
repentance is sufficient.

You must obey all that My Apostle tells you. I use him to guide you.

4th March 1999

Copyright © 2015 Bishop Cornelius K. Arap Korir, Catholic Diocese of Eldoret, Kenya. 
All rights reserved. Reproduced from ON THE EUCHARIST: A DIVINE APPEAL, Volume II by www.adivineappeal.com 

Living Each Day in Reparation

Divine Appeal Reflection - 251

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 251: "I want these plagues of sins to be appeased with prayers, reparation and penances daily".

Each passing day is more than the turn of a calendar page—it is a summons from Heaven. Our Adorable Jesus is not distant from the pain and rebellion of our age; He is immersed in it, wounded again by the sins He already bore (cf. Is 53:4-5). The world today is plagued not only by disease or war, but by the deeper spiritual affliction of sin—indifference to God, rejection of His commandments, and the desecration of what is holy (cf. Rom 1:28-32). Yet Christ does not thunder with anger; He whispers with longing. He seeks souls who will stand with Him in love, who will respond not with debate but with devotion. He asks not for applause, but for offering—small, hidden acts of love that form a crown of reparation around His suffering Heart (cf. Mt 26:40). Every moment of our lives can become part of this healing mission: a whispered prayer in a hurried day, a fast offered quietly without recognition, a silent bearing of wrong with forgiveness. These are not meaningless—they are priestly offerings in the temple of time (cf. 1 Pt 2:5). If we dare to unite our hearts with His, then even our tiredness, our loneliness, and our work can become incense that consoles our Crucified Lord (cf. Col 1:24).

For priests and consecrated religious, this call takes on a particularly powerful form. They are not only invited but anointed to live as visible signs of Christ’s sacrificial love. In a world that mocks celibacy, ridicules vows, and scorns visible signs of holiness, their very existence becomes an act of reparation (cf. Heb 5:1-3). A priest who reverently celebrates daily Mass, even when the church is nearly empty, consoles Jesus more than he knows. A sister who wears her habit in public, despite curious stares or whispered insults, testifies to the joy of belonging wholly to God (cf. Lk 1:38). A seminarian who embraces discipline while his peers chase comfort joins Christ in Gethsemane (cf. Mt 26:36-39). Their penances are not confined to the cloister or altar—they are in every moment of fidelity, every humble act of obedience, every rejection of self for the sake of the Bridegroom. Even their hidden interior struggles—times of dryness, weariness, or discouragement—when offered with love, become coals of reparation on the altar of Christ’s mercy (cf. Rev 8:3-4). Their quiet perseverance speaks more powerfully than sermons: it says, “Jesus is worth everything.”

In families, too, the call to become altars of reparation is real and vital. Every family has its crosses: misunderstandings, disappointments, illness, financial strain, or the pain of children drifting from the faith. But these wounds, united to Christ’s wounds, can become fountains of grace (cf. 2 Cor 1:5-6). A mother who wakes early to pray the Rosary before the house stirs; a father who leads bedtime prayers despite a long day at work; a teenager who uses social media to proclaim their faith, sharing Scripture or quotes from the saints instead of worldly distractions, consoles the Heart of Christ. Another who spends weekends serving at the altar or helping in parish ministries, even when peers are out socializing, offers powerful hidden reparation. A child who quietly helps a sibling with homework instead of retreating to their room, or who turns to prayer rather than complaint in hardship, is echoing the sacrifice of Jesus. When parents teach their children to reverence the Eucharist, to fast during Lent, to forgive quickly, and to serve others quietly, they are forming little domestic chapels of reparation (cf. CCC 1657). Even suffering—when endured with trust and offered in union with Christ—becomes holy. A sick grandparent who offers pain as prayer; a single parent who keeps the family centered on Sunday Mass—these are hidden saints, pillars holding up a world falling into ruin. And each act, no matter how unseen, is like a drop of balm on the wounds of Jesus (cf. Mt 6:3-4).

For all of us, whether we are young or old, working or retired, lay or ordained, the invitation remains the same: to make our lives altars of daily offering. Reparation is not just for mystics or monks—it is the Christian vocation (cf. Rom 12:1). We live in a time where irreverence is normalized, where sin is celebrated, and where the sacred is trampled underfoot. But this is precisely why our response must be firm, joyful, and loving. A student mocked for kneeling at adoration is repairing. An office worker who avoids gossip and prays silently during lunch is repairing. A widow who prays for the Church and offers her loneliness for priests is repairing. This quiet army of faithful souls—often unnoticed by the world—is Heaven’s response to the plague of sin (cf. Ez 22:30). Each of us can begin today. Skip a snack in reparation. Offer a Rosary for blasphemies. Make a visit to the Blessed Sacrament, even for five minutes. Say a Divine Mercy chaplet for sinners. Jesus does not ask us to fix the world, but to console His Heart and help open it to others (cf. Jn 19:37). And when we do, even in little ways, grace begins to flow again—grace that can heal the Church, awaken hardened hearts, and push back the shadows of sin.

Prayer:

Our Adorable Jesus, wounded by our sins yet still loving, we offer You our hearts as little altars of reparation. Accept our hidden sacrifices, our prayers, and daily struggles. May our love console You, draw souls to mercy, and help grace flow anew upon the Church and the world. Amen.

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

Mockery of Holiness in a Secular World

Divine Appeal Reflection - 251

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 251: "At the moment I felt all the tortures of My passion burst overwhelmingly upon Me, the calumnies, insults, abuses, the scourging, crown of thorns, thirst and the Cross. All these pressed upon My painful heart." 

Our Adorable Jesus shows us not only the pain of His wounds, but also the sorrow of a world that struggles to endure true holiness. His Passion was no mere miscarriage of justice—it was the open defilement of sanctity by a fallen humanity. The sinless One, radiant with divine purity, stood encircled by hatred, slander, and derision—not because He had transgressed, but because He embodied the very innocence the world could not tolerate. In a painful reversal, the Holy was treated as guilty, the Lamb of God as a criminal. This same spirit continues today. A society drunk on self-will mocks virtue as bondage and holiness as madness. By rejecting what is sacred, it wounds Christ again and echoes the cry: “Crucify Him” (cf. Lk 23:21). As the Catechism teaches, sin began when man refused to let God be God—choosing pride over trust (cf. CCC 397). And today, sin often wears the face of mockery: turning sacred things into jokes, replacing reverence with sarcasm, and drowning out truth with constant noise.

This rejection shows itself not only in big ideas but in the quiet details of daily life. A student who mentions prayer or the Blessed Virgin in school may be laughed at. A young man or woman who chooses chastity might be told they are “behind the times.” An honest worker who won’t lie or cheat may be pushed aside at work. Even in families, those who try to pray the Rosary, go to Confession, or attend daily Mass may be called “too much” or “overly devout.” These are not small troubles—they are the little crosses that echo Our Lord’s own suffering. Jesus, the Holy One, stood alone before a crowd that misunderstood Him—even His own friends failed to grasp His mission (cf. Jn 1:11). His Passion continues wherever truth is rejected, goodness is punished, and the sacred is mocked. In these moments, the Church must not hide, but stand firm—not with harshness, but with the quiet strength that comes from the Crucified (cf. 1 Pt 4:14). Every time someone suffers for remaining faithful, Jesus suffers with them—and through them, He triumphs in hidden glory.

This hatred of holiness is not just a passing mood—it is the sign of a deeper battle. Beneath the laughter and mockery is a soul running from God. Pride darkens the heart and hides from the light that reveals its emptiness (cf. Jn 3:19–20). Our Adorable Jesus, radiating unblemished light, stands not as a judge who condemns but as Truth itself—unflinching, pure, and piercing. We see this even in family life: a child is teased for dressing modestly; a father is looked down upon for opposing abortion or defending marriage; a grandmother is ignored for praying her beads of the rosary or speaking of the saints. What used to be honored is now called foolish—not because it is wrong, but because it is right. The sufferings of Jesus—false names, cruel jokes, beatings—show the age-old struggle between God’s kingdom and the kingdom of self (cf. Jn 15:18–19). In this fight, holiness is not hated because it is ugly—but because it is beautiful. And beauty, when not welcomed, becomes a burden.

Even so, our answer must never be to strike back. Jesus, when insulted, did not return evil for evil but suffered silently, with majesty (cf. 1 Pt 2:23). The saints followed His path. Though misunderstood or ridiculed, they bore all with humble courage. They did not explain their holiness—they lived it. Today, when a priest is mocked for wearing his cassock, or a sister is scorned for giving her life to Jesus in purity, they must remain steady. When parents choose Mass over comfort, or teenagers choose purity over popularity, they are sharing in the quiet glory of the Cross. We are not called to argue for holiness, but to make it visible—real, gentle, joyful. In every genuflection before the Blessed Sacrament, every act of decency, every silent refusal to gossip, we help restore the beauty of what is sacred. The world may laugh—but heaven is comforted. And the Heart of Our Adorable Jesus, so deeply wounded by mockery, is healed by each soul that dares to love Him with fidelity.

Prayer:

Our Adorable Jesus, mocked in Your holiness and scorned for Your truth, give us the courage to love what the world despises. In a time that ridicules virtue, make us steadfast. Help us live with reverence, speak with wisdom, and suffer with patience, that we may console Your Heart. Amen.

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

Patience, a Forgotten Path to Holiness

Divine Appeal Reflection - 251

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 251: " ... be patient and listen to Me."

In an age saturated with noise, speed, and instant gratification, the soul’s capacity for silence and receptivity has withered. Sacred Scripture reveals the inner dissonance that often clouds our service.At Bethany, when Jesus entered the home of Martha and Mary, Martha was absorbed in the duties of hospitality, while Mary remained at His feet, absorbed in His presence. It was not Martha’s labor that drew gentle correction, but the unrest within her—a divided heart troubled by many things, lacking the interior stillness to truly receive Him (cf. Lk 10:38–42). This tension persists across vocations. The priest, immersed in pastoral obligations, may find his soul fragmented if he no longer drinks from the wellspring of contemplative prayer. The consecrated religious, devoted outwardly to God, can inwardly drift if patient fidelity to the cloistered silence weakens. The layperson, submerged in the demands of work, parenting, and society, is especially vulnerable to a spirituality that lacks roots—reactive, hurried, and spiritually thin.

Patience is not mere endurance—it is the soul’s alignment with divine time. The Woman with the Hemorrhage exemplifies this with extraordinary grace. Twelve years of suffering did not crush her faith. She waited, listened, and recognized the sacred moment when she might touch the hem of Christ’s garment without fanfare, yet with unwavering trust (cf. Mk 5:25–34). Her healing was not a reward for dramatic pleading but for quiet, persevering faith. Similarly, Simeon and Anna offer us luminous portraits of souls immersed in patient expectation. They lived attuned to God, not measuring days but trusting in the certainty of His promise. Their joy in recognizing the Infant Christ was not spontaneous—it was the fruit of listening hearts shaped by decades of hopeful waiting (cf. Lk 2:25–38).

Impatience reflects a refusal to live in the sacred rhythm of divine providence. It is the soul’s rebellion against mystery, desiring outcomes without surrender. The Catechism teaches that patience is part of fortitude—enabling one to resist sadness, sustain hope, and endure suffering without resentment (cf. CCC 1808). It is also a sign of spiritual maturity, showing that the soul has relinquished control to divine wisdom. According to St. Thomas Aquinas, patience serves as the guardian of charity, for without the strength to endure trials with peace, love cannot be sustained; it withers under the weight of suffering when not anchored in long-suffering perseverance. Philosophically, impatience emerges from an existential discomfort with time—we crave resolution, clarity, sensation. But the God of Abraham is not found in haste. As with Elijah, He is encountered not in earthquake or fire, but in the still small voice (cf. 1 Kgs 19:12). To listen to Jesus requires not only silence, but a silence that is inhabited by humble expectation.

Across all states of life, this is a call to interior conversion. The priest is summoned to prioritize adoration over activity—to offer not only the Sacrifice but also the silence of his heart. The consecrated soul must rekindle love for the cloistered or hidden hours, trusting that God’s most transformative work occurs in what the world deems insignificant. The layperson is invited to consecrate the ordinary: to find God in traffic jams, sleepless nights, and daily repetition—where the whisper of Christ can be discerned by the soul that listens. Married couples are called to embrace moments of shared silence, praying together even when words fail, listening for God in one another. In a restless culture that prizes output over presence, such listening becomes a prophetic witness. It says to the world: grace has its time, and God never delays.

Prayer

O our Adorable Jesus, we have grown deaf in haste and weak in waiting. Form in us patient hearts like Mary’s, trusting hearts like Simeon’s, and persevering hearts like the woman who reached for You. May we listen with love across all vocations, and remain still before the mystery of Your will. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 251

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME II

Sparks of fire of rain will fall down from heaven and everyone will
be in terror! My Eternal Father’s wrath is upon mankind.

My daughter, be patient and listen to Me. Watch with Me in the 
Sacrament of My Love. These are dark hours. I request you to pray, 
it is urgent, in order to be able to atone. I wait and watch all nights 
and days in the tabernacle for Love of souls.

Pray a great deal, the Red Lucifer has taken possession of souls. I
speak to you amid tears of blood. The Red Lucifer is very astute,
instilling to the souls the idea that My Eternal Father does not exist,
that they can act by their own accord!

My daughter, you have only to obey My Will and My words through
My guidance from My Apostle of the last days because My Eternal
Father has His designs for you and you must abandon yourself
completely.

I am bleeding from pain. My heart is torn into pieces by this
corrupted mankind! I am bent over mankind but the times are
terrible. Destruction where the children of darkness are, almost all
of mankind abuses Me, despising Me, not believing in Me and My
words. They only know of the most deadly weapons: the dictators of
the Earth truly infernal monsters will destroy the Churches and My
Sacred Tabernacles. In this sacrilegious struggle, due to the unbridled
pleasures, savage impulses and bloody opposition, everything made
by the hand of men will be destroyed.

Sparks of fire of rain will fall down from heaven and everyone will
be in terror! My Eternal Father’s wrath is upon mankind.

At the moment I felt all the tortures of My passion burst
overwhelmingly upon Me, the calumnies, insults, abuses, the
scourging, crown of thorns, thirst and the Cross. All these pressed
upon My painful heart. What more could I have suffered for mankind.
Cloister souls in your heart in the first line the souls I entrusted souls.
I want these plagues of sins to be appeased with prayers, reparation
and penances daily.

As I am exposed in the Sacrament of My Love I will pour all the
treasures of My Love and Mercy into the human souls. In My Love
and Mercy you will find the source of Light. Do not lose My precious
time for salvation of souls. These are grave hours. Time is coming
soon when I will no longer detain the arm of My Eternal Father.
Suffer out of Love for Me. Pray and forgive. You must obey and
never doubt. Heed My words form My apostle, you should never
be afraid.

My Mercy is followed by Divine Justice.

25th February 1999

3.00am

Copyright © 2015 Bishop Cornelius K. Arap Korir, Catholic Diocese of Eldoret, Kenya. 
All rights reserved. Reproduced from ON THE EUCHARIST: A DIVINE APPEAL, Volume II by www.adivineappeal.com 

Peace Betrayed, World at War

Divine Appeal Reflection - 250

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 250: "Rulers talk about peace and they prepare themselves for war."

Our Adorable Jesus reveals with divine clarity the painful contradiction that lies at the heart of modern leadership. So often, those in positions of power speak of peace in polished speeches and solemn declarations, yet beneath the surface lie actions rooted in fear, pride, and the desire to dominate. Military spending continues to rise; new weapons are crafted while treaties are ignored. The result is a tragic gap between what is said and what is done—a loss of integrity, not only in politics but in the soul of humanity. True peace, as the Catechism reminds us, is not just the absence of violence but the fruit of justice, order, and love rightly lived (cf. CCC 2304). When leaders publicly commit to peace while preparing silently for war, they distort the divine harmony God desires for creation.

This is not just a problem of diplomacy—it is a moral and spiritual collapse. At its root is a world that has distanced itself from God’s law, preferring self-will over divine wisdom. In a culture that denies original sin, where conscience is dulled and truth is treated as relative, the idea of peace becomes shallow and fragile. Without the foundation of truth, peace can be manipulated into a façade—used to mask aggression or justify self-interest. St. Augustine taught that peace flows from rightly ordered love—first for God, then for neighbor (City of God, Book XIX). When that order is lost, love becomes selfish, and “peace” becomes a tool of the powerful. Our Adorable Jesus, meek and crucified, invites us to learn from Him. His peace is not political convenience, but the fruit of suffering love—a love that forgives, that heals, that transforms.

The world today shows clearly how far we are from this peace. In places like the Holy Land, Ukraine, Sudan, Haiti, and so many forgotten corners of the world, violence erupts not only from guns and missiles, but from wounds left by decades of injustice, abandonment, and unkept pledges. The anguish of the innocent ascends to Heaven, mingled with the smoke of destruction and the tears of the forsaken. But the unrest is not only global—it’s local. Our homes, parishes, and neighborhoods often carry silent wars of mistrust, betrayal, and division. Even the Church, wounded by scandal and infighting, feels the sting of disunity. The evil one thrives in such disorder, blinding souls with confusion and despair. Sacred Scripture cautions us that when people cry “peace and safety,” disaster may be near (cf. 1 Thessalonians 5:3). This is not divine punishment, but the natural consequence of building peace without repentance, justice, or humility. Where Christ is ignored, true peace cannot take root.

What can we do amid such brokenness? The answer is not found in political solutions alone, but in deep interior conversion. We must begin in the heart—our own hearts—by allowing grace to reorder our desires and our priorities. Our Blessed Mother, whose womb cradled the Prince of Peace, shows us that real healing begins not with power, but with a quiet yes to God’s plan. Her life was not free from sorrow, yet it was entirely open to grace. Saints throughout history, such St. John Paul II, who forgave his attacker, and St. Josephine Bakhita, who transformed grief into gentleness, did not flee sorrow but instead allowed love to triumph.The world may not understand them, but heaven receives them. They remind us that peace is established not only through large actions, but also through the simple decisions we make every day: how we communicate, forgive, and love. Wherever we are—at the dinner table, in busy streets, or kneeling in the pew—we are expected to be bearers of peace that the world cannot provide. We must reconstruct the moral foundations that the world has abandoned through prayer, acts of kindness, and fidelity to the Gospel. The Church reminds us that peace is not a theory—it is a responsibility that begins with every baptized soul (cf. CCC 2307–2317). Our Adorable Jesus longs for hearts ready to receive His peace—not counterfeit, but divine and everlasting.

Prayer:

Our Adorable Jesus, loving and wounded Savior, have mercy on this weary world that seeks peace yet clings to the ways of war. Soften hardened hearts, especially among leaders and nations. Stir in us a desire to be peacemakers—humble, faithful, and rooted in You. Through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, make us living signs of Your Kingdom. Amen.

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

The Vocation of Gethsemane

Divine Appeal Reflection - 250

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 250:  "... reflect how painful a struggle My heart underwent, a struggle on the result of which hung the salvation of the whole world. My heart fought resisting even unto blood and overcame: It conquered only in prayer."

Gethsemane is the furnace where divine love is tested in the crucible of human weakness. It is not a relic of salvation history but a perpetual invitation into the deepest mystery of Christ’s redeeming mission. When Our Adorable Jesus knelt in anguish beneath the olive trees, He did not merely suffer—He initiated the highest act of priestly offering: the free submission of His human will to the Eternal Father in prayer. There, beneath the silence of the night and the weight of impending betrayal, He taught us the vocation that transcends all vocations—the call to conquer not through greatness, but through abandonment, not through mastery, but through surrender (cf. CCC 612, cf. Luke 22:44).

To embrace Gethsemane as a way of life is to step into the eternal rhythm of redemptive love flowing from the Heart of the Son to the Eternal Father—a silent liturgy that sustains the Church in every age. It is the hidden thread of fidelity that weaves together priest and parent, cloistered soul and laborer, each called to remain where grace asks them to kneel. For the priest, Gethsemane is the daily altar where he offers Christ to the Father, often in solitude, for souls who may never know or give thanks. For the consecrated, it is the long vigil of prayer when heaven feels silent but grace pours unseen. For the laity, it is borne in the quiet endurance of illness, the patience within misunderstood marriages, or the fidelity of a hidden life known only to the Father. In all these, the command is the same: remain with Our Adorable Jesus in the garden, where prayer becomes both agony and triumph. There, the soul does not merely survive—it participates in the saving mystery of Christ, bearing with Him the weight of love unto glory (cf. Romans 8:17).

The contradiction of Gethsemane is this: what the world perceives as weakness is in truth the concealed strength of those who trust the Eternal Father in the hour of silence. What feels like abandonment is, in reality, the most intimate union—a soul clinging to the Father’s will when all light has withdrawn. The Church does not draw her lifeblood from triumphs or visibility, but from those who, like Our Adorable Jesus, remain prostrate in the garden, whispering yes amid fear, dryness, and delay. This is the hidden might of the Mystical Body—not in structures or acclaim, but in souls who choose to love when love is crucified. The heroic act is not always martyrdom in blood, but martyrdom in obscurity: obedience that wounds, fidelity without reward, prayer that costs everything. These are the saints of Gethsemane—mothers nursing the sick in the night, students who persevere in chastity, priests hearing confessions with broken hearts, and consecrated souls who remain unseen but profoundly united to the agony of the Lamb. They are the Church’s strength, because they are the Father’s delight (cf. Colossians 1:24).

To live Gethsemane as a vocation is to stand before the Eternal Father and declare with our lives: “My suffering has meaning, for it is united to Yours through the Son.” It is to embrace contradiction without inner collapse, to remain at peace while the soul bleeds, and to cleave to the Father’s will even when it seems to strip us of all else. In this lies the Church’s truest strength—not in visibility or power, but in fidelity to the Cross, lived in hidden union with Christ. When pain is transformed into prayer, it becomes not merely endured, but redemptive. This is the hidden labor of love carried in the hearts of priests in weary sacristies, consecrated souls in silent cloisters, parents in exhausted homes, and the abandoned who choose to remain faithful. Our Adorable Jesus triumphed not by fleeing Gethsemane, but by remaining in it—where He did not wish to be, yet where the Father’s will desired Him. So too, may we choose to remain, and by remaining, become living extensions of His redeeming love.

Prayer:

Our Adorable Jesus, draw us into Your Gethsemane. Teach us that love without prayer dies, and suffering without grace breaks. May we live this hidden vocation with courage, offering contradiction, sorrow, and silence to the Father. Through Your agony, may our small fidelity save souls and console Your Heart. Amen.

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

Constant Remembrance of the Eternal Father

Divine Appeal Reflection - 250

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 250: "The hour is drawing near when My Eternal Father’s Justice will be inexorable with all those who live without remembering My Eternal Father."

To live in remembrance of the Eternal Father is to live intentionally in grace—this is no abstraction, but a concrete call to sanctify the present moment in whatever vocation we are called. Our Adorable Jesus reveals that the most perilous form of forgetfulness is not ignorance, but indifference: a life lived as though God is unnecessary. When a mother nurtures her children without interiorly uniting her sacrifices to the Father, or when a professional builds wealth while neglecting divine providence, or when a priest administers sacraments without interior reverence, there is a quiet but deadly drift from remembrance. The spiritual forgetfulness Christ warns of is woven into routine lives where God is displaced by productivity, comfort, or ego (cf. CCC 2097; Luke 12:20–21).

Forgetting the Father is an act of disintegration—it fragments our being. Intellect, will, and heart cease to function harmoniously when detached from the divine law that gives them order and end. The lawyer who upholds civil justice but neglects divine justice, the student who seeks knowledge yet mocks truth, the artist who celebrates beauty without glorifying the Creator—all live in fractured ways. The illusion of autonomy becomes subtle: it dresses itself in good works that are severed from their source, like branches cut off from the vine (cf. John 15:5). Time becomes secular, flattened into utility, rather than a space for grace. But when we remember the Father, time becomes sacramental, each moment rich with eternal consequence.

Remembrance of the Father is the first act of adoration—it is the soul’s ascent from self-enclosure to self-offering. It is to say: I do not exist for myself. It is the act of the saints, the logic of the martyrs, the hidden flame in every mother who offers her weariness to God, in every worker who labors with a sense of sacred duty. Our Adorable Jesus warns not as a distant Judge but as the pierced Bridegroom, whose love is being scorned. The justice that draws near is not cruelty—it is the final act of fidelity. The world, veiled in spiritual amnesia, must be shaken so it might remember. And remembrance is salvation, for to recall the Father is to return home (cf. Luke 15:17–20; CCC 1439).

May we not be among those whom justice finds asleep. Let us ask: Do I remember the Father when I make decisions? In my career, my relationships, my leisure? Let every vocation be transfigured by this remembrance: let the scientist research as a hymn to divine wisdom, let the builder construct as a steward of God’s order, let the mother nurture as a co-creator of eternal souls, let the priest consecrate not only the Host but all of humanity to the Father. To live in remembrance is to live in constant relationship—silent prayer in action, offering in toil, presence in sorrow. It is to place God at the center of every choice, allowing Him to illuminate even the mundane. Our Adorable Jesus speaks not only to the Church but through it—to artists, builders, parents, and teachers alike. This is a universal call to sanctity, issued before the veil is torn and divine justice reveals who truly loved.

Prayer:

Our Adorable Jesus, draw our souls into constant remembrance of the Eternal Father. Teach us to live each moment as a sacred offering of love and obedience. Preserve us from the blindness of self-will, and awaken the world to Your divine appeal. May we never live without You. Amen.

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

Assisting in the Mass of Restitution

Divine Appeal Reflection - 250

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 250: "I urgently call everyone to prayer and to do much penance, assist at Holy Sacrifice of the Mass of Restitution..."

The Mass of Restitution is not merely an observance, but a profound entry into the heart of Christ’s redeeming love—a sacred call to share in His suffering and become co-healers of a wounded world. Far beyond habitual attendance, this Mass invites each soul to step into the wounds of Christ with intention and compassion, carrying in prayer the fractures of humanity: the silent, pain of broken homes, the hidden guilt of past sins, the deep scars within the Church. It is a sacred offering of sorrowful love, where hearts are not passive spectators but living oblations, laid upon the altar to cry out for mercy and renewal in a world desperate for grace. The Catechism affirms that the Eucharist is the same sacrifice of Calvary made present (cf. CCC 1367); in this context, the Mass of Restitution becomes a living plea for healing through the love of the Crucified.

Our Lord, through the Divine Appeal, is not asking for routine observance but for a radical offering of the heart. To assist at this Sacrifice is not the exclusive domain of sacristans, altar servers, lectors, or choirs. This is a call to intentional, sacrificial prayer—where penance, intercession, and surrender are joined to His Passion. Such participation is not about external performance but interior union, a soul set ablaze in the fire of divine love (cf. Rom 12:1–2; CCC 2100). In this fire, sin is not only forgiven but transformed, becoming a source of reparation through grace. The Mass is not merely attended but entered into, as one steps into Christ’s redeeming act with purpose and love.

This call is universal. Every baptized soul is summoned to assist—not merely the visibly active, but the quiet, suffering faithful whose hearts cry out to God. The young woman mourning a loss, the parent repenting past failings, the widow clinging to morning Mass—each offers a hidden sacrifice that rises like incense. It is not the title or role that determines true participation, but the depth of the offering: how completely one unites their sorrow, joys, fatigue, or hope with Christ’s own. In the Mass of Restitution, these silent offerings become powerful acts of intercession for a world in need of healing.

Such participation redefines dignity—not by appearance or accomplishment, but by the freedom to love and offer oneself to God. Even unnoticed suffering, when united to the Eucharistic Sacrifice, becomes eternally fruitful. Saints like John Vianney and Faustina knew this truth well, showing that holiness and impact do not depend on recognition but on union with Christ. Assisting at Mass, then, is not limited to the sanctuary—it extends to homes, workplaces, hospitals, prisons—anywhere a soul chooses to love and offer their life with Christ. In every place where this surrender happens, the altar of restitution is mystically present.

Prayer

O our Adorable Jesus, Eternal Victim of Love, receive our humble and contrite hearts in union with Your Holy Sacrifice of Restitution. We offer You our sorrows, penance, and love—sanctify us and make us instruments of reparation. Restore what sin has broken and renew the world through Your mercy. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 16

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL (Revelation to Sr Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist)  VOLUME 1 “I would like to save all humanity and I w...