Divine Mercy in Human Brokenness

Divine Appeal Reflection - 243

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 243: "Do not think that I am ignorant of your misery and life. Your misery gives chance to My Love and Mercy for you all eternity. So do not be afraid on that account."

There is a temptation buried deep in every heart to hide from God in our weakness. When sin clings, when prayer feels dry, when failure returns again and again, the soul may shrink back in shame, believing it has become unworthy of divine nearness. But such fear arises from a misunderstanding—not of our misery, but of God’s nature. God is not surprised by human weakness. He knew it before we fell, and He entered into it freely on the Cross. The mystery of the Incarnation itself teaches us that God does not avoid our misery—He embraces it to redeem it (cf. CCC 458; St. Irenaeus, Adversus Haereses, Book 3). In Divine Appeal 243, Christ consoles the soul not by denying its misery, but by revealing that its very frailty becomes a reason for the outpouring of His mercy. This is not permissiveness; it is divine tenderness (cf. St. Thérèse of Lisieux, Story of a Soul).

God is closer to us than we are to ourselves, according to the teachings of Saint Augustine, Doctor of Grace (cf. Confessions, X.27.38). Yet the soul, deceived by pride or despair, often fears that it must first purify itself before it can approach. But this is to reverse the order of grace. The healing comes after the encounter, not before. It is the sick who need a physician (cf. Luke 5:31). Saint Thomas Aquinas affirms that mercy is the greatest of God’s attributes in relation to creatures, because it assumes misery and brings about restoration (cf. Summa Theologiae, I, q. 21, a. 3). Mercy, therefore, is not a soft alternative to justice—it is justice fulfilled through love (cf. CCC 1847–1848). When we are miserable, God’s mercy finds a reason to act. When we know we are small, we give Him room to be great.

Saint Francis de Sales, often called the “gentle Doctor,” understood the weight of human frailty with pastoral tenderness. He did not see holiness as an achievement for the heroic few, but as a slow unfolding of God’s grace in the lives of ordinary people (cf. Introduction to the Devout Life, Part I, ch. 1). In Introduction to the Devout Life, he urged souls not to be discouraged by their faults, but to rise after every fall with deeper humility and confidence in God's mercy. He reminds us that holiness is not reserved for cloisters or mystics, but is quietly cultivated in the midst of ordinary life, in the gentle practice of kindness, humility, and perseverance (cf. Philothea, Part III). He encouraged souls not to fear their falls, but to rise each time with greater humility and trust in God. In his Introduction to the Devout Life, he counsels that our weaknesses should not discourage us but make us more reliant on divine grace. “Do not be disheartened by your imperfections,” he wrote, “but always rise up with fresh courage” (cf. Part III, ch. 9). For him, the spiritual life was not about achieving perfection instantly, but about surrendering continually to the God who loves patiently. Like a father lifting a child who stumbles, God uses our very limitations to draw us closer—if we let Him.

In our time, marked by moral confusion, anxiety, and a culture that measures worth by performance, the voice of Christ remains a radical contrast: “Do not think I am ignorant of your misery.” He knows. He always has. And still, He chooses to love. The saints did not reach sanctity by being flawless; they became holy by surrendering to the One who is. The Catechism reminds us that divine mercy is stronger than sin and that the heart of the Gospel is Christ crucified for sinners (cf. CCC 1846–1848). To believe this is to live with peace, not in spite of our poverty, but because of it. Our misery becomes sacred ground—not because it is good, but because it draws the Mercy of God to dwell among us (cf. St. Faustina, Diary, §1182).

Prayer:

O Adorable Jesus, who sees our misery and loves us still, draw near in our weakness. Let not our faults hide us from Your mercy, but open us to Your healing gaze. In every failure, be our strength; in every fall, lift us higher. Let our poverty glorify Your infinite love.

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