Daily Swords of the Heart

Divine Appeal Reflection - 256

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 256: "... listen well, with an anguished heart I beg you; be prepared for the Sacrifice which I expect of you; many swords shall pierce your heart."

When Heaven speaks in sorrow, the soul must not turn away. Not in condemnation but in solemn invitation, the Divine Voice declares, "Many swords shall pierce your heart." With prophetic immediacy, these words now descend upon us, mirroring the agony that was once expressed to the Blessed Mother beneath the Cross. They are not poetic metaphors. They are not distant tragedies reserved for saints or mystics. They are the spiritual roadmap of every disciple who dares to love with the Heart of Christ. To follow Him is to bleed with Him. It is to be pierced—not once, but many times—until every barrier between us and Divine Love is removed. We live in an age obsessed with comfort and allergic to pain. But Heaven is calling for hearts willing to be broken—not by despair, but by mercy; not by the cruelty of the world, but by the cost of redemption.

To the priest, this piercing often comes quietly, behind closed doors and veiled tabernacles. He may serve in remote parishes torn by political unrest, gang violence, or intertribal tension. His days may be filled with exhausting pastoral work among the wounded, while his nights echo with the loneliness of celibacy misunderstood and community absent. He hears confessions of deep human misery, often with no one to confide his own struggles to. He labors at altars where few kneel in reverence, preaches in chapels where hearts seem indifferent, and loves souls who rarely love him back. Yet in these hidden sufferings, the swords of Christ pierce his heart not to destroy him, but to conform him more deeply to the Crucified. Each tear cried in solitude, every insult endured with humility, every sacrifice made without thanks—these become incense rising to Heaven, sanctifying not only him, but the people he serves. The pierced heart of a faithful priest becomes a sacred vessel through which the Lord continues His work of salvation.

In the vocation of marriage and family life, these swords pierce in ways raw and relentless. The young couple unable to conceive, the husband working two jobs and still failing to provide enough, the wife carrying emotional burdens in silence, the teenager who rejects the faith of their parents—all are real, bleeding scenarios. Spouses sometimes feel like strangers. Children rebel. A mother might hold her child in the hospital, praying through her tears as the machines beep steadily beside her. A father might collapse into bed, burdened by debts and unspoken fears. And yet, these piercing moments—so heavy, so human—are the very arenas where Christ’s love desires to enter most powerfully. A family that clings to Christ when everything else fails becomes a beacon in a dark world. Their unity amid sorrow, their prayers amid uncertainty, their endurance in trials—all become a living Gospel. These swords, borne together, do not crush the family; they crown it with redemptive grace.

Youth today, too, bear many invisible swords. They navigate a culture saturated with lies, temptations, and pressures that pierce the soul with confusion and isolation. The faithful young person who chooses purity is often ridiculed; the one who defends truth may be cast aside as “intolerant.” Others carry hidden wounds—abuse, broken homes, battles with anxiety or depression. Yet these swords, when brought into the light of Christ, can become instruments of profound sanctification. A young man offering up his loneliness for his peers; a young woman silently battling despair, yet returning to the Eucharist with trembling faith—these are heroic acts. Their hearts may bleed, but their wounds become radiant. 

For religious sisters, often hidden from the world, the swords strike in the hidden places—when community life grates against the desire for solitude, when superiors misread the soul’s cry, when prayer feels dry, and joy feels like a discipline more than a gift. Yet it is precisely these hidden, spiritual swords that deepen their consecration. The pierced heart in religious life becomes a chalice where the sorrows of the world are gathered silently and offered back to God. In silence, their hearts bleed before the Eucharist. They are not forgotten. Their piercings mirror the Seven Sorrows of Mary, and in that mirror, Christ finds His reflection. And for each of us, whether consecrated or lay, Christ permits these swords not to break us, but to hollow out a space in us where He can dwell more fully. A heart pierced by many swords becomes spacious enough for divine love. It is not less alive—it is more alive, more open, more fruitful. This is the sacred paradox of discipleship: the wound that bleeds also blesses.

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, pierced for love of us, prepare our hearts for the swords You permit. In sorrow, make us steadfast; in sacrifice, make us generous. May every wound draw us nearer to Your Sacred Heart. Unite our sufferings to Yours, and let them become channels of grace. Amen.

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