Divine Appeal Reflection - 246
Today, consider in Divine Appeal 246: "I offer so many messages with painful events; mankind remains indifferent as if it were an idle call. Who will esteem My tears of blood? Not even good souls think of them. All is silence, paralysed as if My Eternal Father does not exist. I would want My voice, full of affliction, to fly to the very ends of the Earth saying be attentive, attentive... the time to settle accounts has arrived!"
The paralysis Our Adorable Jesus laments is not of the body but of the soul—a spiritual inertia that muffles heaven’s call and dims the gaze of faith. In a world flooded with noise and distraction, even believers risk becoming practical atheists—professing God with the lips while living as if He were absent. Our lives are saturated with obligations, screens, and endless movement. Yet beneath this surface activity lies a stillness of soul—a silence not born of peace, but of forgetfulness. It's when we check our phones before we check our conscience, when we spend hours on tasks but minutes with the Lord. It’s when faith becomes an accessory instead of a compass. In this subtle drift, we become spiritually numb. Christ’s wounds are ignored not from hatred, but from distraction. And so, even among believers, the gaze of heaven is dimmed by the glow of lesser lights.
Still, divine Mercy pleads with us in this chaos—not to add more burdens, but to call us back to presence. When Jesus says, “Be attentive,” it is not a poetic phrase but a practical invitation: make space. Silence your phone during prayer. Keep a holy image or crucifix at your desk. Visit a church on your lunch break. Replace background noise with moments of recollection. Attentiveness means choosing to live aware of God’s nearness, allowing Him to interrupt our routines. It can mean offering that inner sigh of love before answering an email, or saying a quiet “Come, Lord Jesus” before each new task. It is about carrying Him, deliberately, into the ordinary.
What Our Adorable Jesus seeks is not performance, but sincere response. He doesn't demand we abandon our families or careers—but He does ask us to love Him within them. A mother rising early to pray before waking her children; a student resisting anxiety by surrendering their worries to God; a worker choosing patience over irritation—these are modern acts of reparation. Choosing not to reply to gossip. Giving up a comfort to fast quietly for someone lost in sin. Listening to someone in pain without offering clichés—just being present. These small sacrifices, done with love, console the Heart of Christ far more than we can imagine.
And now—this moment—is the hour of mercy. Not later. Not once life slows down. Now, when your heart stirs even slightly at His sorrow. That stirring is grace. Answer it by setting a reminder to pray. Schedule Adoration once a week. End the day with a heartfelt examen: “Jesus, where were You today—and did I stay with You?” This is not idealism; it is love made concrete. The silence Jesus speaks of is not the silence of monasteries but the inner void when His love is ignored. Let us not fill our lives with activity while missing the One they are meant to serve. Let us hear His whisper now—and stay.
Prayer:
O Our Adorable Jesus, pierced with sorrow and crowned with silence, awaken us. Deliver us from the coldness that forgets Your tears of blood. May Your afflicted voice echo in our hearts until we become Your consolation. Let us not be still when You are wounded. Make us flames of reparation, attentive in love, until Your cry finds an answer in us. Amen.
Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.
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