Divine Appeal Reflection - 248
Today, consider in Divine Appeal 248: "I want you to accompany Me, be very attentive as I speak to you."
To accompany Our Adorable Jesus is to live with the awareness that every moment carries the weight of eternity. His desire is not for passive admiration, but for loving nearness—souls who walk with Him, hearts that lean in to listen. He does not only speak in the sanctuary or through mystics; He speaks constantly, quietly, in the daily details of our lives. The whisper of grace can be heard in a nurse’s patience with the sick, in a teacher’s sacrifice for one struggling child, in the hidden fidelity of a father who rises each morning to provide. Our Adorable Jesus is present in each task borne out of love, in every struggle offered in silence. For the one who listens with the heart, no moment is mundane. His voice speaks not to impress, but to invite: “Remain close to Me.” (cf. Lk 24:15; Mt 11:29)
In every vocation, He hides Himself—waiting, knocking softly, longing to be recognized and loved. To the parent, His voice is heard in the tired cries of a child or the need for patience when exhaustion weighs heavy. To the priest, it echoes in the confessional, in the whispered sins of the penitent, where mercy must shine brighter than justice. To the student, He is present in the struggle to remain faithful amid confusion and pressure; to the worker, in the call to integrity in a world dulled by compromise. He speaks in traffic jams, in broken relationships, in moments of silence and of noise. He is not waiting to speak when life becomes less chaotic—He is speaking now, through the very chaos we wish to avoid. Every moment can become a burning bush (cf. Exodus 3:2), if only we would turn aside and listen. Our Adorable Jesus does not shout; He yearns to be heard in stillness, in recollection, in fidelity to grace that often comes clothed in inconvenience.
Still, the noise of the world makes this divine companionship easy to overlook. The soul becomes dulled not necessarily by sin, but by distraction, by constant motion, by hearts that forget to pause. It is in this whirlwind that many lose the capacity to hear. Yet Our Adorable Jesus speaks even here—in the fatigue of a mother’s day, in the tension of leadership, in the ache of loneliness or the fatigue of ministry. He is not absent in the storm, but speaks in the depths of it—softly, persistently (cf. 1 Kgs 19:12; Ps 46:10). Every moment is pregnant with His voice for the one who dares to silence the lesser sounds. He waits to be recognized in coworkers, in interruptions, in the longing that stirs beneath the surface of a busy day. He is not far from those who seek Him with stillness and sincerity.
St. Joseph teaches us this: silent, hidden, yet faithful in every task (cf. Matthew 13:55). So too does Mary, who treasured the Word not with noise but by pondering it in her heart (cf. Luke 2:19). When we lift our hearts before beginning a task—“Jesus, be with me”—we welcome His voice. When we refrain from gossip, offer a kind word, or do unseen acts of virtue, we echo His love. When we pause to pray in the car, or whisper a Hail Mary before a difficult conversation, we become attentive souls—alert to grace in the midst of life. Each teaches that Our Adorable Jesus does not only dwell in extraordinary revelations, but in ordinary fidelity transformed by love (cf. Rom 12:1; Col 3:23). To be attentive is to keep the gaze of the soul turned toward Him—even while typing reports, feeding children, or navigating conflict. It is to let the inner ear remain open to His inspirations, to carry His presence in our gestures, our tone, our priorities. This attentiveness becomes the seedbed of reparation—a life that consoles not with words alone, but with union.
To truly accompany Our Adorable Jesus is to become a living response to His love. He seeks not performers, but companions—souls who allow their hearts to become altars where He is honored in silence and in sacrifice. He is consoled by the simple act of remembering Him, of pausing in the middle of routine to say in the heart, “You are here, Lord, and I am Yours.” (cf. Ps 139:7; Jn 15:4) In a world quick to forget, may we be among those who remember—who do not merely hear, but who allow His voice to shape our way of being. In remaining near, we answer His plea; in listening deeply, we love truly.
Prayer:
Our Adorable Jesus, may our hearts remain open to Your gentle voice. Teach us to recognize Your presence in our daily tasks and sufferings. Strengthen us to respond with fidelity and love, that our lives may console Your Heart and reflect Your will in all things. Amen.
Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.
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