A DIVINE APPEAL: July 2025

Most Urgent Appeal: Pray and Repent

Divine Appeal Reflection - 264

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 264: "Pray, pray, pray a great deal, My blood is flowing and I want to convert this corrupt world... Repent, Repent, Repent! For those poor souls who have refused to repent and make sacrifices. Don’t be surprised that your life is always a place of suffering. I beg for souls."

In every age of salvation history, God has raised intercessors—souls pierced by the anguish of Divine Love—who cry out between heaven and earth for the conversion of the world. Today, this call returns with fire: “I beg for souls.” It is not a plea of weakness, but a sovereign cry from the Heart that bled on Calvary and continues to pour out mercy in the Eucharist. The Blood of Christ is not merely a past event—it is a living torrent (cf. Heb 12:24), seeking to redeem this very hour of human history. We are not spectators of redemption—we are summoned into it. Like Abraham before Sodom, Moses before the golden calf, Esther before the king, and Our Lady at the foot of the Cross, we are placed in this generation to intercede, fast, suffer, and pray until grace breaks the hardest stones and the vilest chains are shattered. The appeal is not merely to say prayers—but to become prayer, incarnating repentance and mercy in our flesh, tears, and will. The salvation of others must become the reason we rise in the morning and the agony that keeps us faithful when hope fades.

In the lives of saints we see the pattern of such relentless intercession. St. Monica wept for seventeen years before Augustine turned from his pride. St. Francis Xavier died on the threshold of China, exhausted from reaching the unreachable. St. Teresa of the Andes offered her illness for the conversion of the youth who mocked God. But they prayed not because they saw results; they prayed because they loved. They knew that the true measure of prayer is not what we feel, nor how long we’ve waited, but whether we love as Christ does—unto the shedding of our own comfort, tears, and sometimes blood. In today’s world, where efficiency and visible outcomes drive even spiritual effort, such love is rare. We often grow weary and move on. But if Christ on the Cross did not descend until “it was finished,” who are we to abandon the souls for whom His Blood still flows? His love is total. So must be ours.

The modern landscape is filled with resistance to repentance. The culture of individualism, constant distraction, and spiritual apathy has replaced conversion with vague positivity. Sin is rebranded, conscience silenced, and the Sacrament of Confession, where mercy waits, is often abandoned. And yet Jesus does not cease to call: “Repent, repent, repent.” Not for His sake, but for ours. He calls us to repent, not only for our sins, but in reparation for those who will not repent. In this, we become living sacrifices (cf. Rom 12:1), standing in the gap like Moses, Abraham, and above all, Mary—the woman of sorrow who shared in the Redeemer’s cry for souls. Repentance, when embraced beyond self-interest, becomes a weapon of salvation. It shakes the hardness of Pharaoh’s heart, interrupts the path of Saul, and even reaches Judas—though he refused to believe it. If God’s mercy is infinite, then the demand upon our response must be equally total. Until all are saved, we are not done.

So why is life so often a place of suffering, even for the devout? Because suffering is the chalice from which the co-saviors of souls must drink. Our pain, when united to Christ’s, becomes intercessory fire. That unspoken loneliness, the silent cross of an unanswered prayer, the daily fatigue of love not returned—all of it can become a prayer that pierces heaven. And this is why we cannot stop praying, repenting, or offering. For every mother whose child has wandered from the Church, for every priest ministering in hidden discouragement, for every soul tempted by despair—someone must stand and suffer in their place. That someone is us. The Church, in its deepest call, is Marian and cruciform: she intercedes, suffers, and loves with Christ until all is fulfilled. Therefore, let us not grow tired, and let us never consider our prayer or repentance sufficient until even the furthest soul returns to the Sacred Heart. In this divine urgency, we learn what love truly costs.

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, pour into us the unrelenting desire to see every soul saved. Let our prayers rise for the lost, our repentance deepen for the hardened, our suffering join Yours for the unconverted. Do not let us rest while one soul resists Your love. Use us, until all return.

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

Unrecognised Strength of the Indwelling Christ

Divine Appeal Reflection - 264

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 264: "I am within you, why should you be afraid. I have given you many signs of My presence in you."

How incredible it is to think that the same God who created the stars and is adored by angels has chosen to live within us. This isn’t just a comforting idea—it’s a truth the Church teaches, made real in us through baptism and strengthened each time we receive the Eucharist with faith (cf. CCC 1265–1266, 1391). Our adorable Jesus, hidden in the host and reigning in heaven, also lives quietly in the soul that tries to love Him. But often, we forget. Life moves swiftly—mornings blur into duties, burdens quietly grow, and beneath composed faces, we carry silent battles known only to God.In all that noise and pressure, His presence can feel far away. The heart grows tired, prayer feels dry, and we wonder if God still hears. But it’s right there—in that quiet ache—that our adorable Jesus remains. He doesn't leave.Even when our hearts are numb, he nevertheless loves us in silence and waits patiently to be found through the peaceful conviction of faith rather than by feeling. Although we may experience loneliness, we are never really left behind since His presence is more dependable than our transient emotions. He is within us—a steady flame, a faithful friend. And when He asks, “Why should you be afraid?”—He means it. What can truly harm us when He has made His home in our hearts?

The presence of Christ should no longer be pinned to rare visions or spectacular miracles; instead, the evidences go freely scattered into our daily lives. Picture a worker who somehow finds the courage to forgive a fellow worker after a great betrayal, or a mother who is caressed by an unexpected calmness as an ill child wakes up crying in pain in the heart of the night. These are signs. They are not emotional highs but movements of grace—God acting within us in ways unseen by the world but unmistakable to the soul that listens (cf. CCC 2000). Our Adorable Jesus has told us: “I have given you many signs.” These may be a Scripture verse that inexplicably pierces the heart, a homily that seems spoken just for you, or a sudden interior conviction to go to Confession. Even the tug to pray while washing dishes or the brief pause of gratitude while watching the sunset—these too are signs of the Indwelling One speaking, guiding, consoling. But they are often missed, because we have not cultivated silence of heart. We must learn to be contemplatives in action and find heavenly fingerprints in the little, unexpected corners of our lives in a world addicted to noise and distraction. Jesus doesn't have to yell. He waits for attention.

Fear, in its many forms, is perhaps the most common companion of modern man—fear of failure, of loneliness, of disease, of uncertainty. It creeps in while waiting for medical results, during financial instability, or in the aching silence after a loved one’s betrayal. Yet into this fear comes the voice of our Adorable Jesus: “I am within you, why should you be afraid?” This is not a poetic gesture—it is a spiritual reality grounded in grace (cf. Col 1:27; 2 Tim 1:7). The presence of Christ within does not remove life’s crosses, but transforms how we carry them. The parent praying through a child’s rebellion, the single mother struggling to make ends meet, the elderly man facing solitude—each, if in grace, carries the Crucified One within. When this is remembered, the soul finds strength not its own, peace not of this world. Interiorly, a shift occurs: suffering becomes sacrificial, fear becomes an opportunity for trust. It is not stoicism, but sanctity—participation in Christ’s redemptive love. Jesus within gives us the grace to rise, again and again, through every trial. The question is not whether He is near, but whether we are willing to entrust every fear to the One who already dwells within.

To live daily with the awareness of Christ’s indwelling is to walk in sacred attentiveness. It does not require a change in vocation or radical externals, but a conversion of vision. The teacher who prays quietly before her students arrive, the young man resisting temptation in silence, the cashier who offers a smile to a weary stranger—each becomes, in the eyes of Heaven, a bearer of Christ to the world. Our Adorable Jesus is not a guest who comes and goes; He remains with the soul that loves Him, guiding decisions, strengthening virtue, and awakening the desire for heaven (cf. CCC 2014, Jn 15:4). To recognize His presence means we no longer measure our lives by results, but by fidelity. In our weaknesses, we invoke Him. In joys, we give Him thanks. In confusion, we rest in His gaze. This is how saints are forged—not by escaping the world, but by allowing our Adorable Jesus to radiate through them in the quiet furnace of daily life. They transform the world, one silent prayer, one unrecognised act of kindness, and one hidden sacrifice at a time, rather than escaping its weight and dust. Fear vanishes in this submission because life itself turns into a liturgy and each moment into an altar where His love is presented and revealed. When we embrace this, fear evaporates, for life becomes a sacrament of His abiding love. Every dish washed, every kindness given, every prayer whispered beneath the breath becomes holy. Christ within transfigures the ordinary into divine.

Prayer

Our adorable Jesus, hidden within our souls, make us aware of Your presence. Silence every fear, purify every thought, and awaken us to the signs of Your love. May we live as living tabernacles of Your mercy, trusting You in all things, and never forgetting You dwell within. Amen.

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

Spiritual Long Path of Holy Accompaniment

Divine Appeal Reflection - 264

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 264: "My Eternal Father has entrusted this Mission to him because he must reconcile souls and save them. I send persons who will help him and they will love him very much. I guide them for him. Heed My words in him – I have given him grace to guide you in your spiritual long path – you must listen to his warnings to you."

In an age captivated by self-made missions and solitary spirituality, the words of Our Adorable Jesus in an age captivated by self-made missions and solitary spirituality, the words of Our Adorable Jesus resound with a piercing counter-witness: “I send persons who will help him... I guide them for him.” Here lies a forgotten but sacred vocation—to be divinely assigned not to forge a new path, but to lovingly uphold and accompany the mission entrusted by the Eternal Father to another. This is not spiritual dependency, but the hidden genius of co-redemptive love: to pour one’s fidelity, prayer, and sacrifice into a mission not one’s own, yet eternally bound to one’s obedience. It is the calling of those who do not stand in the spotlight, but at the foot of the Cross—like St. John who remained, or St. Joseph whose silence safeguarded the unfolding mystery of salvation. These chosen souls carry the quiet authority of intercession, sustaining through hidden fidelity the one called to speak, to lead, and to suffer publicly. In a world that forgets the sacredness of spiritual accompaniment and obedience, this Divine Appeal calls us back to a higher order of love—a communion where vocations are not parallel, but profoundly intertwined in the logic of the Cross.

Often forgotten is the profound spiritual formation required of those whom Our Adorable Jesus sends in hidden support—“I guide them for him,” He declares. This is not just to create psychologically affectionate or romantic sort of closeness; this is a divine interior work that purifies one in sanctifying intention, silence, and fidelity. To assist one who is under this special grace for reconciliation is not an effort of human strength but a supernatural vocation that requires the willing surrender of the ego, the abandoning of personal ambitions for the greater good, and willingness to embrace sacred detachment attained through heartfelt prayers and loving obedience. These souls are not called to flatter, to compete, or to imitate, but to quietly sustain, to intercede, and to console the Heart of Christ reflected in the one sent. Their path is long not because of outward demands, but because it requires the daily dying to self that makes their hidden companionship redemptive. Like Veronica on the way of the Cross, their gesture is not born of public recognition, but of uncontainable love that cannot endure to see Christ suffer alone—love that leaves behind the imprint of the Divine Face on a soul’s quiet fidelity.

The most neglected depth of this Divine Appeal rests in the sober command: “You must listen to his warnings to you.” Here lies the point where many hearts falter. It is easy to love and admire one anointed by God—until that chosen soul, illumined by divine grace, speaks a word that confronts, corrects, or cautions. Pride resists what it cannot control. The natural response is to reinterpret, resist, or even dismiss the uncomfortable word, forgetting that Christ Himself has declared, “I have given him grace to guide you.” Such grace is not ornamental but functional—God’s own life communicated through frail instruments (cf. CCC 2008, 1548). To reject this guidance is not mere personal disagreement; it risks veiling disobedience beneath devotion. In a time when spiritual independence is often prized above humility, this call requires a renewed trust: to recognize divine authority not only in lofty theology, but in the living word of one whom Heaven has entrusted with the care of souls. The refusal to be led is not always loud—it is often cloaked in selective listening, where piety becomes the mask of resistance.

This mission is not symbolic nor confined to a distant mystical age—it is active now, burning silently in the hearts of those anointed to bear the grace of guidance in a wounded world. There are priests, religious, consecrated souls, and lay faithful—hidden yet luminous—who have been entrusted by Heaven to reconcile, correct, and sanctify others. These are not self-appointed mentors, but crucified instruments, formed in the dark nights of obedience and spiritual trial. They walk a narrow path—often unknown, misunderstood, and burdened with the cost of fidelity. Their tears fall in the silence of Adoration, their strength drawn not from applause but from the pierced Heart of Our Adorable Jesus. And now, how often does their work get overshadowed by our skepticism, by our pride, or by our insistence on being warehoused under our own conditions? These souls are not perfect-but are chosen and divinely sustained. To accompany them is a privilege; to resist their grace-filled guidance is to risk spiritual sterility masked as autonomy. We, the Church, must awaken to this sacred dynamic—not merely to observe it, but to participate. We must become those whom God sends—to intercede, to protect, to love without claim, and to listen with reverent trust. The mission is not theirs alone. It is the Father's design unfolding through mutual self-gift, where spiritual authority and humble accompaniment meet at the foot of the Cross. Through such unity, souls are reconciled, vocations safeguarded, and God’s merciful reign deepens upon the earth.

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, form in us the humility to serve the mission You entrust to others. Make us silent companions of Your will, faithful in love, unwavering in prayer, obedient to Your voice. Guide us along this long spiritual path, that through our hidden sacrifices, souls may find their way back to You. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 264

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME II

Repent, Repent, Repent! For those poor souls who have refused to

repent and make sacrifices.

My daughter, watch with Me, keep Me company these are dark

hours. I am within you, why should you be afraid. I have given

you many signs of My presence in you! You must always be

obedient, humble and serene.

Pray, pray, pray a great deal, My blood is flowing and I want to

convert this corrupt world.

The souls I love so much do not understand that the tyrant has stolen

their hearts, locking them up in the prison of scandal and all kinds of

malicious corruption. Both hatred and emptiness have fettered them

to evil. I am ignored and neglected. Most is that the souls I entrusted

souls and those consecrated to Me do all they can to step on My very

painful head. In the Sacrament of My Love I remain day and night

there loving and waiting with all My Divine grace for poor souls of

mankind.

I implore you My daughter to pray and make reparation and sacrifice

and do confessions not only for yourself. Repent, Repent, Repent!

For those poor souls who have refused to repent and make sacrifices.

Don’t be surprised that your life is always a place of suffering. I beg

for souls.

Cloister them in your heart. Reflect deeply on this. My Eternal Father

is Justice and Power. I urgently ask My Apostle of the last days that

I have given him a mission and a mandate that he must fulfil! Many

swords will pierce his heart, he will have to be disposed to climb

up to Calvary! My Eternal Father has entrusted this Mission to him

because he must reconcile souls and save them.

I send persons who will help him and they will love him very much.

I guide them for him. Heed My words in him – I have given him

grace to guide you in your spiritual long path – you must listen to

his warnings to you.

My Divine Mercy will be followed by My Divine Justice.

I bless you.

9th July 2009

3.00 a.m.

Rediscovering Prayer in a Faithless World

Divine Appeal Reflection - 263

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 263: "There is much need of prayer in this world that suffers from lack of faith."

The greatest tragedy of our time is not merely disbelief, but forgetfulness of God — and this forgetfulness is born above all from the absence of prayer. Our Adorable Jesus, in His Divine Appeal, does not only lament the decline of faith, but calls us back to its wellspring: prayer. Prayer is not simply one activity among many; it is the soul’s breathing — without it, faith suffocates. As the Catechism teaches, prayer is both a gift and a response, a divine thirst meeting the human heart (cf. CCC 2560–2567). A world without prayer becomes a world without light, without meaning, and without direction. The crisis of faith we see — in moral confusion, despair, apathy — is not first a crisis of doctrine, but of communion. The voice of God is not heard because man no longer listens. And man no longer listens because he no longer kneels. This is why our Lord insists: there is much need of prayer — prayer that is not mechanical or rushed, but rooted, trusting, persevering, and real.

In the life of priests and consecrated souls, prayer has to be really considered as a furnace in which the fire of the vocation is continually being purified. But Profession, sadly, often eats into that inside life until prayer becomes a mere chore rather than a life-giving encounter. However, without deep daily prayer, private, Eucharistic, and contemplative, the priest is just a functionary, the religious an ice-cold laborer. The Church does not need efficiency; she needs saints. The Catechism teaches that contemplative prayer is the gaze fixed on Jesus, the union of heart with His (cf. CCC 2715). A priest kneeling in adoration, interceding with tears for his people; a sister rising in the quiet hours to pray the Divine Office with fidelity — these are not hidden acts, but supernatural interventions holding back the tide of unbelief. In a faith-starved world, their prayer becomes oxygen for souls they may never meet. Their silence is louder than a thousand sermons when it springs from love.

In marriage and family life, prayer is not always easy, but it is essential. The world tempts families to be busy, successful, well-managed — yet without prayer, even the most functional home becomes spiritually hollow. Faith cannot be passed on through words alone; it must be witnessed in prayer. When a husband and wife pray together — not just for needs, but in praise and surrender — they anchor their union in God. When children see parents turn to God in sorrow and joy, a seed is planted that the world cannot uproot. The Catechism calls the Christian home the first school of prayer (cf. CCC 2685). But what happens when that school is closed — when meals are eaten without thanksgiving, when no one pauses to kneel, when devices replace devotions? The home becomes vulnerable to despair and division. Somewhere in between everything, some hour of prayer—perhaps the Rosary mumbled in a half-asleep voice at dawn, or lighting a candle before sunrise, or sharing a half-minute of peaceful silence before sleep—will allow grace to enter. Prayer does not require immaculate performance; it requires willingness. It is situated in the very heart of the family, protecting it and providing it with sanctuary.

For young people and single souls navigating a culture that idolizes noise, pleasure, and self-definition, prayer is not an escape — it is a lifeline. In a world that encourages constant stimulation, to be still before God is a radical act. Yet it is in stillness that one begins to hear. The Catechism reminds us that prayer is where God reveals His plan and where man discovers his true identity (cf. CCC 2567). Many young people today are just disengaged—surrounded by options but without a sense of purpose—rather than antagonistic towards religion. The lies of perplexity, despair, and worthlessness can be dismantled with just one genuine prayer session in which the heart is opened honestly. Consider a young lady who suffers from worry and seeks solace in adoration. Or a young man wrestling with vocation who quietly says, “Speak, Lord, Your servant is listening.” These are not small things. They are the beginnings of holiness. In a generation that suffers from unbelief, the young who pray become prophets without speaking — for they show that God is still calling, and souls are still answering.

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, draw us into the silence where faith is reborn. Teach hearts grown weary to pray again, not with many words but with trust. Let our hidden prayers console You, rekindle love in a faithless world, and become gentle lights guiding souls back to the Heart they have forgotten. Amen.

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

A World Set Against God

Divine Appeal Reflection - 263

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 263: "This perverse world is like a persecuting dragon. He will try to trap all those who believe and refuse this idolatry!"

The "persecuting dragon" spoken of by Our Adorable Jesus unveils a profound mystery of this age: a world no longer merely indifferent to God, but set in active enmity against Him and all who bear His Name (cf. Rev 12:17; Jn 15:18–19). This "dragon" isn't just the diabolical figure of Revelation, but also the modern system animated by Satan’s cunning (cf. Eph 6:12). It's a world where truth is inverted, holiness mocked, and idols enthroned in the name of progress (cf. Rom 1:25). The idolatry warned against isn't the crude worship of golden images, but the exaltation of the self as supreme judge—man as his own creator, redeemer, and lawgiver (cf. Gen 3:5; CCC 398). This "dictatorship of relativism," as Pope Benedict XVI described it, is the battlefield every faithful soul must now walk (cf. 2 Tim 4:3–5). The dragon doesn't always roar; it often flatters, distracts, and lulls souls into compromise until they can no longer distinguish sin from virtue, nor lie from the Light (cf. Is 5:20). This "perverse world" even creeps into homes, schools, and sanctuaries, seducing through false unity, empty pleasure, and spiritual sloth (cf. CCC 1863; Mt 24:12).

Every baptized soul, by virtue of the Cross, is summoned into a battle not of flesh but of fidelity. Silence in the face of deception becomes surrender, and truth must be lived aloud, even at a cost. The Church cannot afford to retreat into invisibility; she must shine with the unmistakable light of Christ—through holiness, witness, and moral clarity. This witness is not merely ideological—it's incarnate in fathers shielding their homes with prayer, in youth upholding chastity, in religious rejecting compromise, and in all who bleed daily for the Gospel in small acts of fidelity. Now is the hour to awaken. We must resist not only with doctrine, but with sanctity, because the dragon fears not arguments, but saints. Let us not wait for permission from the world to be faithful, but rise as an army of light, armed not with human strength, but with divine fire.

Holiness is not a distant ideal—it is a path carved into time by grace, accessible through humble fidelity. In an age drowning in noise and self-indulgence, sanctity is reclaimed through Eucharistic adoration, frequent confession, disciplined fasting, hidden acts of mercy, and a soul anchored in the living Word of God (cf. CCC 1435; 2715; 2015). We must rediscover these sacred practices not merely as devotions, but as weapons of light in a darkened age. Fasting is not a private piety—it is reparation. Silence is not escape—it is surrender. The Holy Rosary is not repetition—it is resistance. Eucharistic adoration is not an option—it is the gaze that transforms. These are not relics of a bygone spirituality, but lifelines for a Church under siege. In reclaiming them, we do not retreat from the world—we purify our presence within it, becoming living tabernacles of the One who alone is holy. We are not alone in this fight; Heaven is not passive. Our Queen and Mother crushes the serpent’s head, and St. Michael the Archangel leads a hidden army of light, defending the children of the Woman clothed with the sun. We must invoke him daily as a weapon of war. The faithful remnant must be watchmen, gatekeepers of truth, and flames of mercy. The dragon will rage, but cannot overcome a soul hidden in Christ.

The final word must be love. The dragon deceives through fear, but the children of light overcome through fidelity (cf. 1 Jn 4:18; Rev 14:12). While the world heaps scorn upon truth, countless hidden saints are rising—grandmothers suffering silently for the Church, teenagers choosing purity in secret, religious souls offering nights of vigil for lost hearts, and brave souls enduring ridicule for Christ (cf. Heb 11:36–38; Mt 6:6). These are the lamps Our Adorable Jesus places upon hills (cf. Mt 5:15). The dragon still roars, but its time is short (cf. Rev 12:12). Those who stand for truth—visibly, courageously, and lovingly—become the living defiance of hell and the heralds of Christ’s triumph (cf. Phil 2:15; 2 Cor 2:14). In the end, the persecuting dragon cannot destroy the Bride of Christ; he will try, but the saints are already among us, clothed in fire and humility, answering the call of our Crucified King (cf. Rev 19:7–8; CCC 827). Let us not fear the fury of the dragon; let us fear offending the Lamb (cf. Heb 10:26–31). Let us not blend into this perverse generation, but instead, burn so brightly with the truth that others may find their way home through our wounds (cf. Gal 6:17; 1 Pet 2:9).

Prayer:

Our Adorable Jesus, we take refuge in Your Sacred Wounds. Strengthen us to resist every deceit of the world (cf. Ps 91:4). Make us faithful amid trial, pure in love, and bold in truth. Let our hearts burn only for You. In Your mercy, uphold us until all is fulfilled in Your glory. Amen.

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

Martyrs of Truth

Divine Appeal Reflection - 263

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 263: "Amid My tears of blood I want My Apostle of the last days to know that the world is at the edge of the precipice. He must speak out to souls."

In the face of our Adorable Jesus weeping tears of blood, the Church can no longer remain in passive neutrality. The call to “speak to souls” is not poetic—it is apocalyptic. We live in a time when evil no longer hides, but parades under the banner of rights, compassion, and progress. The sin becomes normalized, virtue is mocked, and the unborn, the aged, the confused, and the poor are the stakes of cultural battles. As the moral fabric goes into a freefall, Christ calls His apostles and every soul consecrated in baptism to rise and speak with the authority of truth and the tenderness of love. Silence is no longer innocence; it is instead complicity. Where once stood the Church as a prophetic voice, there now lurks the temptation that it might tone down its light, avoiding offense, and somehow becoming liked in the process.. But Our Adorable Jesus did not die so we could build consensus with darkness; He died so we might bring light to the very edge of hell (cf. CCC 2472; cf. Mt 5:14–16).

Every age has its martyrdom. Ours is the martyrdom of truth-telling in a world intoxicated by relativism. This requires more than opinions—it demands sanctity. To speak with divine authority, one must first live in divine intimacy. The saints never waited for permission to speak when the faith was endangered. St. Athanasius stood alone against heresy. St. Teresa of Avila reformed a complacent Carmelite order through suffering and truth. St. Maximilian Kolbe resisted a culture of death not with protest alone, but with the total gift of himself. Today, to affirm that marriage is sacred, that life begins at conception, that gender is not subjective, and that the Eucharist is truly Jesus—these are seen as threats rather than truths. Yet, the Church must not flinch. The Gospel is not negotiable. When souls stand on the edge of the precipice, our silence becomes their fall. The truth may not be applauded—but it is still the only path to salvation (cf. CCC 1807; cf. Jn 8:32).

The temptation of our generation is to preach love without truth, mercy without repentance, inclusion without conversion. But every time shepherds exchange prophetic courage for worldly applause, the Sacred Heart of Jesus is pierced anew. Our Adorable Jesus is not calling for popular voices, but for faithful ones. We must speak not to gain followers, but to save them. The voice that speaks for Heaven may be silenced on earth—but it resounds in eternity. Every homily, every catechism class, every Christian conversation must become an echo of the Divine Appeal. Priests and bishops must rediscover the fire of Pentecost; religious must embrace reparation with joyful rigor; parents must form their homes into domestic churches where truth is lived and taught. It is no longer enough to be Catholic in name; we must be witnesses in truth, even when it costs us everything (cf. CCC 2032–2046; cf. 2 Tim 4:2–5).Let no one say, “This is not my fight.” If you bear the name of Christ, the world is waiting for your word. Speak it. Speak it with fasting. Speak it in tears. Speak it in mercy and firmness. Speak it while time remains.

To speak to souls today is to wound the silence that evil counts on. Let us speak not as critics but rather as lovers of truth, defenders of beauty, and servants of mercy. In such a world deluded by comfort and distracted by noise, we should be those voices that are formed in silence and forged in prayer. Adoration before the Eucharist must precede proclamation. Fasting must strengthen our words, and the Rosary must accompany our warfare. We are not alone—Our Adorable Jesus walks with us, weeps with us, and speaks through us when we surrender. Even if the world mocks us, Heaven listens. Even if friends abandon us, angels draw near. The world is indeed at the edge of a precipice. But the Church was born to stand at that edge—not to fall, but to pull others back. This is our hour. This is our witness. And this is how we love truly: by daring to speak boldly the truth that saves (cf. CCC 858; cf. Ez 33:6).

Prayer:

O our Adorable Jesus, strengthen us to speak with the fire of truth and the tenderness of Your mercy. Deliver us from fear, silence, and compromise. May we become Your voice amid the storm, drawing souls back from the edge into Your Sacred Heart, where truth reigns and love redeems.

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

Divine Appeal 263

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME II

Do not waste My precious time to save mankind. Pray. Pray and you

will obtain My Eternal Father’s predilection. Be always mindful of

Me in the prison of My Tabernacle. I live there in silence, love and

peace yet very thirsty of souls.

My daughter, pray a great deal; watch with Me, these are dark hours.

I am bleeding from pain and My heart is torn into pieces by this

corrupted mankind! I am very hurt and disfigured with very painful

wounds because persons and nations follow the way of perdition.

Materialism advances on all sides with unbridled corruption and has

pushed mankind towards a frightful abyss of devastation.

I beg you to cloister souls in your heart. Pray and do penance. Do not

waste My precious time to save mankind. Pray. Pray and you will

obtain My Eternal Father’s predilection. Be always mindful of Me

in the prison of My Tabernacle. I live there in silence, love and peace

yet very thirsty of souls. Be not afraid.

Amid My tears of blood I want My Apostle of the last days to know

that the world is at the edge of the precipice. He must speak out

to souls. The times are getting worse and worse. They must be

converted. My Divine Mercy is great if they repent.

This perverse world is like a persecuting dragon. He will try to trap

all those who believe and refuse this idolatry! Countless souls I

entrusted souls are on the brink of the pit. Among them there is a

diabolical transformation and they scandalize so many souls of good

will.

I am with My Apostle of the last days in all what he does. I have

given him many signs of My Presence in him!

I have appointed him to reconcile those poor souls who are in serious

difficulty. Through his word and example, he must bestow great

peace on their hearts! I bless him to insist on My behalf.

Pray a great deal. So many souls allow themselves to become

discouraged and they stop praying. In this way they allow the Red

Lucifer to take his opportunity to fill their hearts with more evil, they

are blinded. The goal of the Red Lucifer is only to separate them

from My Eternal Father.

There is much need of prayer in this world that suffers from lack of

faith.

I am calling every soul of mankind to repent. My Divine Mercy is

followed by My Divine Justice.

I bless you.

25th June 2009

3.30 a.m.

No Soul Exists by Mistake

Divine Appeal Reflection - 262

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 262: "To My Apostle of the last days, I have given him a mission and a mandate that he must fulfil!"

No soul exists by mistake. From eternity, each person is willed, known, and loved into being by God. Divine Appeal 262 reveals a profound truth: every soul carries a mission—a sacred purpose entrusted by our Adorable Jesus. Our existence is not an accident of biology or circumstance but a divine calling echoing from the Heart of the Creator (cf. CCC 1703; cf. Jer 1:5). Even the most unnoticed life bears eternal weight. God has never created a soul without intention, nor placed anyone in our path by coincidence. Each moment, each meeting, each trial and grace—these are movements of divine orchestration. To recognize this is to awaken to the sacredness of life itself, to see others not through human categories, but with reverence. If God has entrusted us with a mission, He has also entrusted us with the people we meet. They are not random—they are part of our sanctification.

Each soul is a unique echo of God’s glory, bearing a particular reflection of His beauty that no other can reveal. The saints, though diverse in temperament and time, responded to their singular calling with fidelity. St. Joseph’s silence, St. Catherine of Siena’s fire, St. John Paul II’s suffering—all fulfilled irreplaceable roles in salvation history. Likewise, our Adorable Jesus entrusts to us a mission formed in love and sealed with divine hope. To live indifferently is not merely to waste time—it is to veil the radiance of our eternal purpose. We are not here to drift but to respond, to participate in the great exchange of divine love for the world. Every person we encounter also bears a sacred mission. We are not only entrusted with our own mission, but also invited to become guardians of one another’s calling—through mercy that uplifts, encouragement that rekindles, and reverence that recognizes the sacred mystery in every soul. Each person is a living icon of God’s design, and every encounter becomes holy ground where grace is at work (cf. CCC 357).

In a noisy world that prizes visibility, we must recover the hidden dignity of simply being faithful. The mission entrusted to us may not be loud or grand, but it is never small before Heaven. An elderly person sacrificing their pain in solidarity with Christ, a young man avoiding temptation in silence, or a woman raising her children in virtue—all of these individuals carry out divine works that have an eternal impact. By performing invisible acts of love on a daily basis—such as patiently listening, freely forgiving, praying by ourselves, and serving with humility—we fulfil our purpose. These acts build the Kingdom. Our Adorable Jesus does not measure success as the world does, but love in the hidden will of the Father (cf. Mt 25:40; cf. CCC 2011). Let us not despise our limitations or postpone our calling. The time is now. Holiness begins in the present moment, and grace walks with those who dare to say yes—even in trembling trust.

We must also learn to welcome with wonder the people God places in our lives. Friendships, challenges, even fleeting encounters—all carry eternal significance when received in the light of divine Providence. How often do we miss the sacred invitation in the soul standing before us? Every person is a mirror of God’s hope, and their presence is never meaningless. By reverencing others, we reverence the God who sent them. By calling forth what God has put in each soul, rather than by controlling or judging, we assist one another in carrying out our missions. Our Adorable Jesus challenges us to rediscover the communion of saints as a living reality rather than a distant idea in a society rife with comparison and loneliness. We are not alone. Our missions are intertwined. Eternity depends on whether we recognize that the soul beside us is God’s gift, not our coincidence (cf. Rom 12:4–6; cf. CCC 1878).

Let us never forget: every soul has been given a mandate. Your very existence is a reply to a divine call. It is the echo of the Father’s voice saying, “You are Mine. I have need of you” (cf. Is 43:1). We are not meant to drift in life, nor to imitate someone else’s journey. We are meant to be faithful to our unique mission. And in fulfilling it, we bless the world in ways only we can. The Church needs your light. The wounded Body of Christ is waiting for your “yes.” Our Adorable Jesus has entrusted you with people, moments, and graces no one else will ever receive. Do not despise the place you are in. Do not postpone your mission waiting for better conditions. Heaven is waiting now—for your surrender, your courage, and your offering of love. There are no wasted lives in God. And there is no mission too small to touch eternity.

Prayer:

O our Adorable Jesus, awaken in us a holy awareness of our mission and the sacredness of every soul. May we never take for granted the lives You place near us. Teach us to love, to listen, and to live with reverence. May our yes echo Yours and fulfill Your divine desire.

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

True Vocation Retreat for Entrusted Souls

Divine Appeal Reflection - 262

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 262: "The souls I entrusted souls abandon their vocation and drag down other souls entrusted to souls, countless number of Religious and lay people who offer them themselves for their pleasures! Countless number of souls go to perdition because of their dishonesty! ...The souls I entrusted souls have degraded the nobility of their Sacred Ministry through living in superficiality, and not holding fast to the greatness of the gift received. They allow the Red Lucifer to instigate them."

Among all the sorrows that grieve the Heart of our Adorable Jesus, none pierce so deeply as the fall of those consecrated to Him—priests and religious who once stood as visible signs of His presence yet have turned away, even scandalized the flock. These are not just personal sins; they are desecrations of a divine covenant. The wound inflicted is not only upon the Body of Christ, but upon the very memory of His love entrusted to them. A sacred trust—poured out in ordination and profession—is violated, and heaven itself mourns. When Peter denied Him, it was not a stranger but a beloved friend who wounded His Heart. So too today, the betrayal of priests and consecrated persons is a crucifixion renewed, carried not in public squares, but in the silence of tabernacles ignored, vows forgotten, and altars profaned. And yet, the mercy of Jesus never withdraws—He continues to wait in every tabernacle, abandoned but still faithful, wounded but still calling (cf. CCC 1374; CCC 1584; Hos 11:8-9).

The path to healing begins with retreat—a word that must be rediscovered in its sacred depth. The retreat our Adorable Jesus desires is one of deep recollection—a turning away from the exterior noise into the interior cloister of the heart. It is a movement from superficiality to substance, from performance to presence, from activity to adoration (cf. CCC 2710; Mk 6:31). Priests and religious must retreat from their distractions, vanities, and attachments to human approval and worldly success. They must descend, as Christ did, into the desert—to rediscover hunger for the Word, thirst for holiness, and silence that listens (cf. Mt 4:1-2; CCC 2711). A sacramental retreat renews their gaze upon the Eucharist and the confessional not as routine, but as divine encounters (cf. CCC 1385; CCC 1465). An interior retreat purifies the heart of duplicity and self-deception (cf. CCC 2517; Ps 51:10). A communal retreat reconnects them with authentic fraternity in Christ, beyond the social facades and isolating roles (cf. CCC 1534; Acts 2:42). Without such retreat, the Sacred Flame of their consecration grows cold and their witness becomes an empty form (cf. Rev 2:4-5).

To rediscover holiness in vocation is not to revive old emotions but to awaken to the eternal demand of love: a radical self-offering, hidden yet fruitful (cf. CCC 2013; Rom 12:1). For a priest, this means embracing once again the mystery of being configured to Christ the High Priest—not in title but in truth (cf. CCC 1548; Heb 5:1-4). His hands must return to being instruments of blessing, not possession; his words, a channel of God's Word, not self-expression. For a consecrated religious, it is to be clothed anew in the humility of the Virgin Mary, and to echo her fiat with every breath (cf. Lk 1:38; CCC 2030). Holiness is not achieved by activism or acclaim, but by immersion into the life of the Lamb—poor, chaste, obedient, and utterly surrendered (cf. CCC 915–917; Phil 2:5-8). Priests and religious must reclaim their sacred identity by putting themselves at the foot of the Cross as children, with nothing more to offer than their tears and a willingness to start over, rather than as professionals. They discover the sole unshakeable foundation at the Cross (cf. 1 Cor 3:11; CCC 1618-1620).

Yet this return cannot happen in isolation. The Body of Christ suffers together, and so too must it heal together (cf. 1 Cor 12:26; CCC 953). Hidden souls across the Church—mothers, fathers, elderly adorers, cloistered nuns, forgotten missionaries, and children too young to speak—are the unseen pillars of the Church, offering silent sacrifices for those who have strayed. They are the Simons of Cyrene of this generation, lifting the Cross that others have dropped (cf. Lk 23:26). Every whispered Rosary, every hour of nocturnal adoration, every offering of pain, loneliness, or rejection becomes a balm for our Adorable Jesus and a cry for the sanctification of His ministers (cf. CCC 958; Col 1:24). These faithful must never cease. Rather, they must intensify their intercession. They must hold the names of priests and religious in their hearts during every Mass, offer their communions for their repentance, and spiritually accompany them into their retreats. We must beg Heaven for a movement of retreats—deep, transformative, Eucharistic—where priests and consecrated souls rediscover the treasure they carry and weep at the altar as prodigal sons welcomed home (cf. Lk 15:20-24; CCC 1439). Only in this collective offering of the Church will the shattered vessels be made whole, and the wounded Shepherd find consolation in His flock once more (cf. Jn 10:11; Ez 34:15-16).

Prayer:

O our Adorable Jesus, pierced by the wounds of betrayal, we beg You: sanctify every priest and consecrated soul. Draw them into the stillness of Your Heart, where truth heals, purity strengthens, and love restores. May their retreat into You become the dawn of renewal for the Church and the world.

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

Divine Appeal 262

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME II

The souls I entrusted souls abandon their vocation and drag down

other souls entrusted to souls, countless number of Religious and lay

people who offer them themselves for their pleasures!

My daughter, watch with Me, these are dark hours. I speak to you

amid My tears of blood. Do not be afraid.

I want you to sacrifice, you must be humble. At every

call you must come with Me up to Calvary. I am bleeding from pain

and My heart is torn into pieces by this corrupted mankind!

I am bent over mankind, these are terrible times! My daughter I

order you, you must live like a Tabernacle at my disposition and

that of all mankind in reparation for sins of all kinds. This is My

command to you!

The souls I entrusted souls abandon their vocation and drag down

other souls entrusted to souls, countless number of Religious and

lay people who offer them themselves for their pleasures! Countless

number of souls go to perdition because of their dishonesty! How

cold is this mankind!

One after another their eyes are blindfolded, they approach the

highest of precipices! If they do not repent and believe, they will go

to perdition. The Red Lucifer tells them do not believe. I pour My

tears of blood over them, countless number of souls are on the brink

of the pit!

What more could I have suffered for mankind. My love for them is

unlimited, I want to save them. I am desolate.

I tell My Apostle of the last days to speak out, I have prepared him.

He must insist to everyone that I Love them and forgive them. I am

Jesus crucified. My Mercy is immense. I wait for them. I tell him

to tell them My Love for mankind has cost Me to lower Myself to

this level to veil Myself and remain in the small white Host. Their

repentance is sufficient.

I ask My Apostle of the last days to speak out, not to be silent

because these are hours of the terrible abandonment! Sparks of fire

will rain down from heaven and everyone will be in terror! The hour

is drawing near, My church will be crazed with pride of violence.

My Eternal Father’s Justice will be inexorable with all those who

live without remembering Him. Because they do not want to live My

Life. The fallacies in their brutal conceptions of life will constitute

their sentence!

The souls I entrusted souls have degraded the nobility of their

Sacred Ministry through living in superficiality, and not holding fast

to the greatness of the gift received. They allow the Red Lucifer to

instigate them.

Pray a great deal. Keep watch with Me, do reparation.

To My Apostle of the last days, I have given him a mission and a

mandate that he must fulfil! I have prepared him. His prayers and

Sacrifices are pleasant to My Heart. I grant him what he asks for. All

his sufferings are useful for appeasing My Eternal Father’s Anger!

My Divine Mercy is followed by My Divine Justice. Soon I will put

the whole world in its own casket.

Pray without ceasing.

I bless you.

11th June 2009

3.10 a.m.

The Blessing of Listening to Jesus

Divine Appeal Reflection - 261

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 261: "I bless you for listening."

How tender is the Heart of Jesus, that He notices not only our great sacrifices, but even the hidden listening of the soul. In a world clamoring for noise, acclaim, and action, our Adorable Jesus stoops low to bless the one who simply listens—not out of curiosity, but out of love. To listen is to open the door of the heart and let Him enter with His wounds, His desires, and His divine longing. It is not only the labour of the ears; it is the assent of the whole soul: the will bowed low in devotion, giving way to the silence where God chooses to reside; memory stripped of ego and soaked in mercy; understanding not conquered but caressed by grace.In such holy silence, the soul is no longer striving to grasp God but is instead being quietly held by Him. It is, as St. Teresa of Avila described, “an intimate sharing between friends,” where God does not overwhelm, but whispers His presence into the receptive heart. This is the liturgy of interiority, the worship that happens when the soul consents to be still and knows that He is God. In listening, love becomes purified, hope is renewed, and faith deepens—not as an effort, but as a gift received. The listener does not merely hear; he becomes a living “yes,” echoing Mary’s fiat, allowing the Word to take flesh anew within him (cf. CCC 2700–2706).

The mystery of the Incarnation reveals a divine logic radically opposed to worldly triumph: God enters through receptivity, not force—through silence, not spectacle. To be blessed for listening is to participate in the same mystery that allowed the Word to become flesh in Mary’s womb, to grow in the quiet trust of Joseph’s obedience, and to speak in parables only those who listened could truly understand. The receptive soul mirrors this mystery by relinquishing control and consenting to be formed in the hidden life of grace. As St. John Henry Newman reminded us, every soul has a divinely ordained purpose—but this “definite service” is first unveiled not through doing, but through deep listening. In a culture obsessed with visibility and self-expression, to listen becomes a kind of martyrdom: a dying to one’s ego, a surrender of the compulsion to be heard. Yet this very surrender draws us into Christ’s own self-emptying (kenosis), into the poverty of the Word made flesh, who knocks patiently at the door of every heart. In this profound act of spiritual hospitality, listening is no longer passive—it becomes adoration, an interior liturgy where God is given space to act as God. Here, in this humble assent, the soul becomes the new Bethlehem where Christ is born again in time and eternity (cf. Phil 2:5–11, CCC 2716).

Theologically, listening binds us to the communion of saints, those men and women who became transparent to the Divine Word not by speaking more, but by being more—by becoming docile instruments of grace. The Church, in her deepest identity, is a listening Bride. She receives before she proclaims, contemplates before she evangelizes. This Marian character of the Church—silently conceiving the Word in faith—is the model for every soul entrusted with shepherdship in any form. Whether priest or parent, bishop or catechist, spiritual director or mentor, one must learn first to listen with the heart of Christ before speaking with His voice. The saints remind us that holiness begins not in doing but in becoming—a transformation born of listening to the Eternal Will in prayer and sacrament, in the cries of the poor, in the needs of the wounded Church. Listening is the divine pedagogy by which God raises apostles who can carry both truth and tenderness, justice and mercy. In this, the Church becomes the ear of God in a suffering world—attentive to war-torn lands like Palestine, to souls crushed by injustice, to the unheard cry of the abandoned and voiceless (cf. Lumen Gentium 1, CCC 2030).

Philosophically, to listen is to accept that the self is not the originator of meaning, but its receiver and steward. In a postmodern age skeptical of absolutes, listening is countercultural; it implies that there is something—and Someone—worth receiving. As Romano Guardini noted, the true listener becomes “a vessel of sacred silence,” not because he has no voice, but because he understands that wisdom does not erupt, it unfolds. Listening invites us to dwell in the space where love precedes logic, where presence precedes comprehension. It is the metaphysical humility that marks the saints—not a silence of apathy, but of reverence. The Word does not force His way in; He knocks. And blessed are those who hear that knock and open. For in opening, we do not just welcome truth; we become living hosts of it. To listen is already to believe, already to say ‘Fiat,’ already to dwell in the mystery of Divine intimacy, where the eternal Word is heard not through noise, but through love echoing in silence (cf. Rev 3:20, CCC 1779).

Prayer

O our Adorable Jesus, give us hearts that listen as the saints listened—silently, reverently, and with burning love. Silence every noise within us that resists Your Word. Let our listening become union, our stillness become sanctuary, and our openness become Your dwelling place. Bless us, that we may be wholly Yours. Amen.

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

Apostolic Suffering

Divine Appeal Reflection - 261

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 261: "My Apostle of the last days is experiencing difficult times. He must know I am with him, I will not abandon him not even for one moment. Prayer is his strength. Many are angry with him. He must lead souls in order to repent. I will protect him and guide him with filial Love."

In these tender words, our Adorable Jesus unveils both the hidden cost and hidden grace of apostleship in these last days: a vocation often marked not by honor but by quiet fidelity amid misunderstanding, anger, and unseen sorrow. To carry His message faithfully is to stand, like the prophets of old, sometimes solitary yet upheld by divine companionship (cf. Is 41:10). Prayer, as the Catechism teaches, becomes more than words—it becomes a living communion that silently transforms weakness into strength (cf. CCC 2565). Jesus’ promise—“I am with him, I will not abandon him”—does not remove suffering, but transfigures it, so that every tear shed for souls becomes intercession, and every wound becomes a hidden channel of mercy. In this mystery, anyone entrusted with shepherdship in any capacity—priests, consecrated souls, parents, catechists, or hidden intercessors—is called to embrace that task with deep seriousness: not as a title, but as a sacred trust that demands daily sacrifice and prayer. Though unseen by the world, this fidelity becomes a living path through which grace flows, leading hearts from rebellion to repentance, and weakness itself becomes the very dwelling place where Christ silently conquers with love (cf. 2 Cor 12:9).

This Divine Appeal speaks softly yet pierces deeply, reminding every shepherd and soul entrusted with guiding others that prayer is not mere refuge, but the very breath that sustains a wounded heart. When words falter and human applause dissolves into silence, prayer remains: an anchor sunk deep in God’s eternal fidelity, and a hidden light untouched by earthly judgment. Opposition often arises, not always from malice, but because truth disturbs hearts long settled in the comfort of shadows. Yet here, within rejection, grace conceals its most mysterious work: for the apostle’s silent suffering, united to Christ’s own sacrifice (cf. Col 1:24), becomes a living intercession—a quiet seed of repentance planted in hearts seemingly impervious to grace. Thus prayer ceases to be mere retreat; it becomes the secret battlefield where love contends for souls, where tears water hardened ground, and where unseen victories are won before they blossom in the light.

The filial love promised by our Adorable Jesus transcends mere protection; it is a living flame of divine intimacy that silently shapes every thought, word, and surrender. As the Eternal Son, bowed in Gethsemane, offered Himself wholly to the Father’s mysterious will (cf. Lk 22:42; cf. CCC 2605), so too the apostle of these last days is called not to triumph by human design, but to be fashioned in the crucible of holy abandonment. Here, where self dies, grace awakens: fear yields to serene meekness, haste softens into patient endurance, and piercing solitude blossoms into unbroken communion with the Pierced Heart. It is in being opposed, scorned, and seemingly crushed that the shepherd most clearly mirrors the Lamb who bore all hatred yet answered only with redeeming love. Thus conformed, the soul becomes a living sanctuary of divine mercy—proving that true authority is not won by power, but granted through silent union with Love Himself (cf. CCC 2716; cf. Phil 2:8).

Thus, our Adorable Jesus reveals to every true shepherd—whether a parish priest or bishop, a mother superior, a teacher of hearts, a caregiver of the forgotten, a mentor of the young, or a soul who leads quietly in hidden apostolates—that shepherding is not a matter of status, but a consecration of the heart. It is a vocation sealed not by recognition, but by union with the pierced Heart of the Lamb. Prayer, in this sacred calling, is no longer just strength—it becomes the soul’s immersion into Divine Love, where every act is refined, every silence sanctified, and every suffering transfigured into intercession. Love, when passed through the fires of contradiction and holy abandonment, becomes Heaven’s own authority—silent, radiant, and invincible. Though veiled from the world’s esteem, the shepherd who walks with Christ bears an invisible mark: the fragrance of the Cross and the echo of divine mercy (cf. CCC 2616; cf. Mt 28:20). Even in the night, our Adorable Jesus walks beside them—unseen, unforsaking, and eternally faithful.

Prayer:

O our Adorable Jesus, strengthen us, your unworthy shepherds, when hearts grow faint and trials heavy. Teach us to trust Your loving nearness beyond all fear. Guide our steps to lead souls into repentance and peace. Shelter us within Your Heart, that we may never abandon those You entrust to us. Amen..

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

Suffering Unto Death for Many

Divine Appeal Reflection - 261

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 261: "Countless number of souls are on the brink of the pit. This situation will get worse, many will suffer to die."

When our Adorable Jesus reveals that many will suffer and die, it is not the cold voice of fate but the pierced cry of a Heart still hoping souls will awaken before it is too late. We see glimpses of this unfolding already: hospital wards where the poor gasp unseen, hidden corners where despair quietly claims young lives, and lands where violence becomes routine news rather than shared sorrow. The Catechism reminds us that sin, though deeply personal, wounds society itself—its structures, its culture, and its weakest members (cf. CCC 1869). Christ’s lament holds both divine foresight and human tenderness; He sees beyond statistics to each face, each story, each soul teetering on the edge. Spiritually, His words call us not to passive fear, but to heartfelt intercession: to pray and live as if every act of charity, every quiet sacrifice, might rescue a soul from falling forever. This is not a distant call for saints alone; it is an invitation for every believer to become part of love’s last barrier before the abyss.

In the face of Christ’s sorrowful warning that suffering will deepen and many souls stand at the brink, the Church’s vocation shines in a new and urgent light. For priests and consecrated souls, this call goes far beyond safeguarding rites or preserving outward forms; it is to become living bridges between divine mercy and a world torn by fear, injustice, and indifference. The Gospel and the Catechism (cf. Mt 25:40; CCC 2447) remind us that faith is never meant to be a private refuge but a summons to speak truth to power, stand beside the oppressed, and console the forgotten. Practically, this means priests who step beyond the sacristy to bless the dying in crowded wards, to anoint those abandoned even by family, and to preach not for applause but for genuine conversion — even when truth offends. It means becoming voices that protest brutality in places like Palestine and wherever war, hatred, and oppression crush the innocent. For consecrated men and women, it means shaping communities into shelters of mercy: welcoming the broken not as burdens but as Christ Himself, offering food, counsel, and prayer, and letting silence become intercession rather than resignation. It is a vocation to transform convents, monasteries, and parishes into signs of God’s solidarity with the suffering — places where pain is neither ignored nor romanticized, but carried in love to the pierced Heart of Christ. When the Church dares to live this mission openly and humbly, she ceases to be a fortress hidden behind walls and becomes, in the words of Pope Francis, a true “field hospital” (cf. Evangelii Gaudium 47): a living sanctuary where wounds are named, injustice is challenged, and hearts learn once more to hope.

Though many of the lay faithful, suffering and death seemingly no longer stand remote threats and unfold instead in quite violent ways on a daily basis: children swallowed in oblivion into abduction, mothers weeping for sons who have been perpetrated against by extrajudicial killings, families being uprooted by wars that were not theirs to choose, and communities filled with hatred converted into violence. These wounds often present themselves quietly behind closed doors or censored news, yet each one screams to heaven. Blessed Virgin Mary standing silently beneath the Cross (cf. Jn 19:25) shows us the way that does neither deny anguish nor succumb to despair: it connects unspeakable grief with a love that stands alone to redeem. The lay faithful are called into a world wounded by the same spirit: they are called to pray for victims and perpetrators when anger levels tempt the heart; to stand up publicly and call for justice but never surrender to hatred; to stand firm alongside the grieving families; and to choose mercy whenever bitterness stands justified. These are very small and painful fidelities—a whispered prayer in the night, a quiet act of solidarity, or forgiveness when vengeance seems the norm—they sprout invisible seeds of hope. Within God's inscrutable plan, these gestures begin to heal the wounded.

Though the shadows around us may thicken — marked by brutality, hatred, and unspeakable violence — hope is never finally quenched, for the pierced Heart of Christ remains forever open, silently pleading until the world’s last breath (cf. Jn 19:34). Salvation is not born of human brilliance or power, but from hearts that, even in trembling, dare to love when fear would silence them. Every secret sacrifice, every whispered prayer, or maybe even some quietly endured agony suddenly becomes, by virtue of grace, a living stone placed in the invisible bridge back to God. Thus many can stumble and fall into darkness; yet many others will be, not by force but because somewhere, someone chose mercy over vengeance, hope over despair, and trust over cynicism. This is the stubborn and quiet triumph of grace: a victory that cannot be undone by brutality through time and whose soft power continues onward, unconquered and unseen, until the dawn of time ceases to be.

Prayer:

Our Adorable Jesus, wounded by love yet ever merciful, grant us courage to stand in prayer where hope grows dim, to embrace suffering without bitterness, and to offer hidden sacrifices for souls unknown. Draw the lost back to Your Heart, and let our quiet fidelity console the sorrow that love alone knows.

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

Jesus' Way for Entrusted Souls

Divine Appeal Reflection - 261

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 261: "My Church is suffering and bleeding, it will still suffer more and more. The souls I entrusted souls go against My teaching. They pierce My heart."

In prayerful silence, we glimpse a sorrow at once deeply human and fully divine: that those chosen to guard souls can wound the Heart of Christ most sharply—not by open rebellion, but by quiet forgetting of His way, lived moment by moment. Yet it is Christ Himself who shows the true path: the One who knelt to wash dusty feet (cf. Jn 13:14–15), who embraced poverty and obedience even to death (cf. Phil 2:8), and who bore rejection without bitterness. He reveals that true shepherding is not a privilege kept for oneself, but a love poured out until nothing is left. Priests, then, are called not merely to preach but to let each word be born from prayer; to offer confession not as a task, but as a humble meeting place of grace (cf. CCC 1465); and to carry the hidden weight of spiritual fatherhood, often unrecognized by the world. Consecrated men and women, too, find their truest witness not in external works alone, but in living poverty, chastity, and obedience as silent testimony that Christ alone suffices (cf. CCC 926). In such hidden fidelity—choosing prayer over noise, mercy over pride, self-gift over comfort—the wounds of the Mystical Body begin, slowly and mysteriously, to heal.

Christ warned that hearts chasing power or human praise risk becoming stumbling blocks to souls entrusted to them (cf. Mt 23:4–12). Yet alongside Him, Mary, His Mother, shines as the perfect guide: silently present at Cana, gently prompting servants to do “whatever He tells you” (cf. Jn 2:5), standing steadfast at the foot of the Cross (cf. Jn 19:25). From her, priests and consecrated souls learn that authority without gentleness becomes harshness, and zeal without prayer becomes noise. Practically, this may mean guiding the lost patiently rather than condemning them, resting hearts in silent adoration before the Blessed Sacrament (cf. CCC 1380), or correcting gently, never with scorn (cf. Gal 6:1). For religious, it means turning from rivalry to fraternity, from complaint to thanksgiving, from fear to silent trust. Even small acts—a whispered prayer for the fallen, silent tears before the tabernacle, fidelity to community prayer when weary—become part of an invisible reparation known to God alone. Thus, through Christ’s meekness and Mary’s quiet strength, the wounded Church slowly rediscovers the gentle face of her Shepherd.

Yet the sorrow of Christ is never a hopeless lament. It is the sorrow of a Heart still pierced yet still open (cf. Jn 19:34)—a sorrow that hopes even hearts grown cold might return. By His life and teaching, Jesus shows priests, religious, and the faithful that scandal cannot be healed by outrage or withdrawal, but by a deeper return to holiness and truth (cf. Rom 12:21). Parish priests draw close to Him not through perfect eloquence, but by celebrating Mass as love offered, not duty performed; by receiving penitents with mercy, not mere formality; by making rectories places of welcome, not judgment. When religious communities choose calm joy in sacrifice, inner silence over distraction, and unity over discord, they shine brightest. Unnoticed acts of kindness, such as a prayer for those who are wounded, a secret sacrifice, or a kind remark, can sprout into seeds of rebirth. By doing this, the Church regains her original purpose as a living embodiment of her Lord's pierced yet triumphant Heart.

In the end, our hope is not in success or numbers, but in the faithful love of Christ, whose Heart still beats for His Church (cf. Eph 5:25–27). Though she bleeds from betrayal and weakness, she remains beloved, purified through suffering, renewed by humble repentance, and sustained by grace (cf. CCC 823–825). Inspired by Christ’s own surrender and Mary’s silent fiat, priests, consecrated souls, and the faithful are called to heal wounds not by words alone, but by lives rooted in prayer, humility, and truth—even at cost. This hidden faithfulness becomes part of the quiet advance of grace, a tide of mercy no darkness can overcome (cf. Jn 1:5). In every silent offering and unseen sacrifice, we do more than lament the Church’s wounds: we help console the Heart that still loves unto the end, sharing mysteriously in His redemptive work for souls.

Prayer

O Adorable Jesus, wounded by forgetfulness and pride, teach Your priests, religious, and all Your people to love as You love. Help us console Your Heart with hidden fidelity, humble words, and silent sacrifice. May our lives, though imperfect, become living reparation for those who have strayed. Amen.

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

Irresistible Conquerors through the Eucharist

Divine Appeal Reflection - 261

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 261: "In the Sacrament of My Love advance an irresistible conqueror through My Divine Eucharist."

In this profound and sorrowful cry of our Adorable Jesus, we see a mystery crowned with both majesty and humility: the triumph of divine love hidden beneath the humble appearance of bread. Here, eternity bows low, and the all-powerful God chooses littleness to begin a conquest unseen yet impossible to stop. Since the earliest days of the Church, Christians have proclaimed that the Eucharist is far more than a symbol; it is the living continuation of Christ’s sacrifice on Calvary, reaching every age and every altar. Saint Leo the Great taught that what people once saw in the earthly life of Christ now flows invisibly through the Church’s sacraments (cf. CCC 1085). In this silent procession of love, divine justice is not abolished but fulfilled—not by crushing creation, but by drawing hearts from rebellion into adoration. The true power revealed here is not the force of domination, but the quiet strength of a Heart that is wounded, offered, and consumed for us—a conquest that wins not by breaking, but by humbling itself to become our food and drawing even hardened hearts into grace.

Saint Gregory the Great, as a true shepherd, saw the Eucharist not as a sentence of judgment, but as the living medicine that conquers sin by healing us from within. He recognized in this sacrament the gentle physician whose remedy is mercy poured silently into our deepest wounds. Centuries later, Saint Pius X, known as the Pope of the Eucharist, opened the treasure of frequent Communion to all, even to little children. In this act, he taught that God’s strength is shown not in the great or the learned, but in those who come with simple, humble hearts (cf. Mt 5:3). His vision reminded the Church that Christ’s advance in the world does not depend on famous preachers or public victories, but on the quiet faithfulness of ordinary souls: children, workers, the sick, hidden nuns and forgotten faithful—whose silent Communions become living stones in the fortress of divine mercy. Through this, the Church remembers that the true power of the Eucharist does not lie in spectacle, but in its quiet power to change hearts from within until love reigns where sin once ruled.

In more recent times, Saint John Paul II taught that the Eucharist is not just a devotion, but the very heart of the Church’s life and mission. In Ecclesia de Eucharistia, he wrote that every Mass renews Christ’s self-gift to the world, silently overcoming a culture of death with the hope of a culture built on love. Every Eucharist, for him, was an occasion for a daily miracle, where division gave way to unity, and resentment was defeated by acceptance. Pope Benedict XVI saw the Eucharist in Sacramentum Caritatis as the sacrament of charity, a charity so strong that it could destroy the walls of pride, fear, and apathy. The very same mystery was taught by both popes: Christ rules not by forcing, but by freely drawing all into His pierced heart. His humility demonstrates His might, and His selfless love demonstrates His kingship—a reign that is silent but unwavering, unseen but everlasting.

We learn—often only in whispered moments—that this divine progress is a gentle, unseen procession that gently passes into every tabernacle and every heart that is willing to be opened, rather than the march of warriors or the shout of victory. Christ bends low, stepping quietly into the clutter of our worries, the shadows of regret, the small weariness of daily life. Without demanding, He loosens pride into humble contrition, turns trembling fear into trust, and melts old bitterness into forgiving love. Even an ignored village chapel, cracked pews, and lips mumbled hurried prayers at the end of a tiring day go to weave strands of gold into the tapestry of grace, an artwork unseen by human eyes but appreciated in heaven. Saintly popes, together with countless God-fearing souls, have witnessed this truth: Christ’s victory is never by force but through quiet might—the loving presence of Christ in the Eucharist that waits for us, heals us, and draws us lovingly toward His Heart. Each one of us is called to share this hidden victory by receiving His mercy and, somehow silently, bringing that mercy into the world.

Prayer

O Adorable Jesus, Divine Conqueror hidden in the Eucharist, subdue our pride with Your silent majesty. Advance into every heart and every corner of this world through Your Sacrament of Love. Teach us to trust in the gentle power of Your mercy, which alone transforms history and conquers sin. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 261

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME II

Countless number of souls I entrusted souls do not acknowledge My

true Presence in the Most Holy Eucharist.

My daughter, pay heed to My words. Watch with Me in

these dark hours.

In the Sacrament of My Love advance an irresistible conqueror

through My Divine Eucharist. My heart is pierced with sadness.

Mankind continue to abuse and ignore My way. My Divine Mercy

will be followed by Divine Justice. I call for Repentance with tears

of blood, I beg for souls.

Countless number of souls are on the brink of the pit. This situation

will get worse, many will suffer to die. My daughter, pray a great

deal and watch with Me in this dark sad house.

My Church is suffering and bleeding, it will still suffer more and

more. The souls I entrusted souls go against My teaching. They

pierce My heart.

I have lowered Myself to this level to remain day and night in the

prison of My Tabernacle for Love of the whole mankind. Countless

number of souls I entrusted souls do not acknowledge My true

Presence in the Most Holy Eucharist.

Pray unceasingly! Do reparation, cloister souls in your heart. Do not

fear, whenever you feel dry spells in your heart, it is not because I

am not with you. Leave Me all your concerns.

Be always attentive and obedient to My Apostle of the last days.

You must heed all what he tells you. I have given him My grace and

wisdom to guide you along My Road. You must not waste any of

My precious time for conversion of souls before it is too late. The

Red Lucifer is very busy trying to destroy you in all ways. Do not

be afraid. I am protecting you. Abandon yourself totally to Me in

prayer. I guide you through My Apostle of the last days, heed his

words always. My Apostle has to tell the souls I entrusted souls to

always be humble and obedient as I am obedient to them during

consecration. They must ask for pardon and do reparation for the

misuse of My Mercy, especially for the abuse of My Sacraments,

especially the Sacrament of penance and the Holy Eucharist.

My Apostle of the last days is experiencing difficult times. He

must know I am with him, I will not abandon him not even for one

moment. Prayer is his strength. Many are angry with him. He must

lead souls in order to repent. I will protect him and guide him with

filial Love.

Pray for all the suffering in the world. My Divine Mercy will be

followed by Divine Justice. Mankind must repent before it is too

late. I will not be mocked forever.

I bless you for listening.

22nd May 2008

3.50 a.m.

The Hidden Power of “Small Hosts”

Divine Appeal Reflection - 260

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 260: "I ask My Apostle of the last days to make “small hosts” to atone for the crimes which are committed each moment by the blinded souls who are already on the brink of the pit."

In this sorrowful yet majestic plea of our Adorable Jesus, the call to make “small hosts” draws us into a mystery luminous with divine tenderness and trembling awe: the mystery of hidden reparation, where finite hearts join the infinite mercy that reconciles earth’s shadows with heaven’s radiance. Spiritually, Christ does not speak merely of consecrated bread, but of human hearts consecrated in silence—souls who, like secret lamps, burn daily in humble surrender, unnoticed by the world yet dazzling before God. The Catechism unveils this sublime participation: that through baptism and by uniting every suffering, prayer, and work to the once-for-all sacrifice of Christ, every believer can become a spiritual offering pleasing to the Father (cf. CCC 1368; cf. Rom 12:1). In this divine logic, smallness is not weakness but power: hearts hidden from human applause yet aflame with charity, whose quiet surrender weighs heavily before divine justice. Each “small host” thus becomes a living monstrance: broken, hidden, yet pouring reparation into the wounds of humanity, mysteriously united to the redeeming torrent that forever flows from His pierced and sorrowful Heart (cf. Jn 19:34; cf. CCC 478)

Theologically, this call unveils the wondrous intimacy where divine justice and mercy embrace in the Heart of our Adorable Jesus. Justice, by its very nature, seeks atonement for sins that cry out from earth to the throne of God; yet Mercy, flowing from the abyss of divine charity, desires not destruction but hearts that freely consent to become living reparation. In calling us to be “small hosts,” Christ draws us into the mystery St. Paul glimpsed: that the members of His Body are invited to complete, in their own flesh and prayerful sacrifice, what remains in the unfolding of His redemptive love (cf. Col 1:24; cf. CCC 618). This does not imply any imperfection in His sacrifice—perfect in its sufficiency—but rather the tenderness of a God who wills human participation in His saving work. The “smallness” He asks for is no mere resignation but a hidden heroism: the humble surrender of pride, comfort, and self-will, echoing the kenosis sung by the early Church (cf. Phil 2:6–8). Thus, the soul, emptied yet aflame, becomes a silent bridge spanning the world’s blindness and the inexhaustible mercy of God, bearing in secret what justice demands and love longs to forgive.

Psychologically, the invitation to become a “small host” pierces to the heart of the deepest human vulnerability: the dread of hiddenness and the ache that our sacrifice might remain unseen and unvalued. In a world that trains the heart to crave applause, recognition, and measurable success, our Adorable Jesus, in His gentle yet piercing sorrow, unveils a paradox known to the saints: the soul most concealed from human notice often carries the heaviest weight before heaven. Mystics attest that what appears worthless to earthly eyes can become a source of salvation for innumerable souls when connected with Christ's redeeming love (cf. CCC 1435). St. Thérèse of Lisieux, who referred to herself as a "little host," taught that even the smallest, hidden gesture—an inward act of patience, a muttered prayer performed in secret—could tip the balance of divine mercy. Thus, this hidden life breaks the tyranny of pride that insists only the great and visible matter; it liberates the soul to live in a deeper freedom, where love, and love alone, becomes the silent measure of worth.

Spiritually, to become a “small host” is to enter fully into the mystery of living Eucharistically—to echo each day, not in word alone but in silent surrender, the prayer of Christ Himself: “This is my body, given up for You.” It is to embrace suffering, misunderstanding, and hidden weakness, not as bitter burdens but as raw material transfigured by grace into oblation. In this way, the soul is drawn into profound union with our Adorable Jesus, whose supreme act of redemption—Calvary—was veiled in apparent defeat and scorned by the world’s gaze. Like Him, small hosts atone silently for sins that wound heaven’s justice, becoming invisible veils of mercy draped over the world’s corruption. In this sacred exchange, what is unseen becomes the most potent; what is rejected by human measure becomes redemptive; and what seems little in earthly eyes grows immense before the throne of God, whose gaze treasures hidden love above all sacrifice (cf. Mt 6:4; cf. CCC 1368).

Prayer

O Adorable Jesus, teach us to become “small hosts” in Your merciful plan. Grant us hearts willing to be broken, hidden, and offered in silent reparation. May our daily sacrifices, unseen by the world, console Your sorrowful Heart and help rescue blinded souls from the brink of darkness. Amen.

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

Jesus’ Bloody Tears for the Corrupt World

Divine Appeal Reflection - 260

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 260: "My blood flows through my tears – I want to cover the corrupt world."

O soul, gaze upon the unspeakable mystery of our Adorable Jesus whose sorrow is not weakness but a torrent of redeeming love. His tears do not merely fall—they bleed, each drop whispering the longing of a God who loves unto agony. The mystics tell us this sorrow is the deepest language of the Heart: love crucified yet living, silent yet more eloquent than all human words. St. Catherine of Siena saw such divine sorrow as “a sea whose waves reach everywhere,” poured out to cleanse creation’s defilement. And the Catechism teaches that the sacrifice of Christ remains ever alive, offered before the Father for our sake (cf. CCC 1367). When He weeps over the world’s corruption, He offers not destruction but a bridal veil of mercy, pleading that hearts may turn before justice must descend. His weeping is both lament and intercession, a living shield born of love stronger than death.

The corruption that draws forth such divine tears is not only the open violence and injustice that stain our age but, more grievously, the silent decay within hearts consecrated by grace. St. Margaret Mary spoke of souls who wound Him most: the indifferent, the lukewarm, those who “taste His gifts yet refuse His Heart.” Scripture alludes to the blood that still speaks—calling not for vengeance, but reconciliation (cf. Heb 12:24). In this divine weeping, we see that His grief is not a distant divine displeasure but an intimate sorrow: the Bridegroom mourns His bride’s coldness. His tears reveal the depths of His yearning to cover our nakedness of sin, just as Adam and Eve were clothed by God’s mercy after the fall. Thus, divine sorrow becomes a garment of hope, an appeal to every soul to awaken and return.

The mystics, practical in their counsel, show us this sorrow is not only to be admired but shared. St. Faustina wrote of becoming “a living host,” uniting her small sufferings and prayers to Christ’s burning mercy. St. Teresa of Avila urged souls to offer every trial, even the smallest, as hidden reparation. The Catechism teaches that united to Christ, human suffering becomes participation in redemption (cf. CCC 618). To console Our Adorable Jesus is not to chase the brilliance of visions, but to weave the unseen hours of our days into a living sacrifice of love: each silent tear offered as incense, each hidden act of mercy a fragrant balm upon His pierced Heart. It is the quiet majesty of choosing grace over bitterness, surrender over fear, and prayer in the hush of weariness. In this secret liturgy of the soul, our humble “yes” rises beyond words, touching eternity and bringing solace to the very Heart that first loved us into being. Each hidden sacrifice helps spread His precious blood over the world’s corruption.

Thus, our tears, mingled with His, do not fall in vain but become seeds of grace that water hardened hearts. The saints remind us: when sorrow is offered in love, it draws heaven into earth’s wounds. The corruption of the age becomes not only a tragedy, but a summons—to love more deeply, pray more fervently, and hope more boldly. Like Mary at the foot of the Cross, we are called to stand steadfast, letting divine sorrow pierce us so our love may console His. For in God’s mysterious design, even the smallest act of reparation helps cover the world in the living cloak of His mercy (cf. Col 1:24).

Prayer

O Adorable Jesus, whose sorrow bleeds into mercy, receive our poor hearts pierced by Your divine tears. Teach us, like Your saints, to offer hidden sacrifices, to love where hatred reigns, and to hope when darkness deepens. May our lives help clothe this corrupt world with Your redeeming love. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 260

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME II

The time is grave. My heart is pierced with great pain bleeding

freshly each second – countless number of souls I entrusted souls

have left and will still continue to leave their Sacred Ministry;

countless of them do not acknowledge the true meaning of My true

Presence in the Most Holy Eucharist.

My daughter, these are dark hours, watch with Me and pray a great

deal. Like a beggar – I beg for prayers, acts of reparation.

Cloister souls in your heart, in the first line the souls I have entrusted

souls. Do not be afraid of seeing so many flagellations. My blood flows

through my tears – I want to cover the corrupt world. The red Lucifer

has darkened the Spirits which have already been turbid. Evil turns

against itself like a horrible serpentine monster that unconsciously

coils around souls.

The time is grave. My heart is pierced with great pain bleeding

freshly each second – countless number of souls I entrusted souls

have left and will still continue to leave their Sacred Ministry;

countless of them do not acknowledge the true meaning of My true

Presence in the Most Holy Eucharist.

I implore you My daughter to spend more time with Me in the prison

of My Tabernacle. Pray, do acts of reparation and fast not only from

food. Repent not only for yourself.

You must heed all the words and direction from My Apostle of the

last days. This is My command to you, it serves to save souls; you

have to be always obedient to me through him.

With tears of blood, I tell the world to repent. I need My Apostle of

the last days to speak out. I am leading him along a lengthy path of

pain and toil. He must tell the souls I entrusted souls that I am very

humble and obedient to them during consecration, yet they continue

to abuse and ignore Me, My Divine Love and My Messages of My

Divine Mercy, which will be followed by My Divine Justice.

He must tell them this situation will get worse. They continue to sin

and in doing so, lead so many countless number of souls to sin and

end up into perdition.

This is a terrible anguish because they do not want to repent or heed

My call.

I ask My Apostle of the last days to make “small hosts” to atone for

the crimes which are committed each moment by the blinded souls

who are already on the brink of the pit.

Scandals due to the fact that there is no prayer, fasting and atonement.

They are crazed demons and thieves of all classes. People of high

rank! How much pain! I bear.

The diabolical army is marching freely through the whole world.

Pray a great deal. My Divine Mercy will be followed by My Divine

Justice.

18th June 2006

2.57 a.m.

I bless you.

Merciful Blessings

Divine Appeal Reflection - 259

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 259: "I give my Merciful blessings."

In the hidden sanctuary of every willing heart, our Adorable Jesus pours His merciful blessings—not as fleeting comfort but as a living power that transforms human frailty into vessels of divine charity. For consecrated men and women, this grace blossoms silently within cloistered cells and shared corridors alike: choosing daily to forgive unseen offenses, to embrace wounded souls whose very wounds inflict new ones, and to love where gratitude may never come. Here, mercy is no naive softness; it is a resolute strength—a quiet daring to love as God Himself loves, to welcome as He welcomes, and to bear, often wordlessly, the secret cost of that love. Married couples encounter this same sacred gift in tender, everyday heroism: when a spouse, stung by sharp words, responds not with cold silence but gentle kindness, thus mirroring Christ’s self-giving love for the Church (cf. Eph 5:25). Such merciful choices remain hidden from applause, yet they become a living “yes” to grace, transforming ordinary struggles into sacred offerings poured back into the Heart of Christ.

Yet this merciful blessing extends beyond convent walls and family homes; it quietly claims the hearts of young people and singles, calling them to reflect God’s tenderness in a world grown indifferent. Saint Paul’s exhortation to “clothe yourselves with compassion” (cf. Col 3:12) becomes real in choices often hidden: a student who prays for a rival rather than spreading rumors; a young worker who defends a colleague mocked for weakness; or a single adult who welcomes loneliness as a path to deeper prayer rather than bitterness. Such acts are rarely praised, but in God’s sight they shine brighter than public deeds. Mercy in youth is heroic precisely because it is freely chosen, not yet demanded by vows or duty. Our Adorable Jesus blesses this covert apostolate—a kindness that remains silent, does not require explanation, but by its mere perseverance, affects hearts more powerfully than any argument could.

The merciful blessings often quietly fashion grace-filled choices within parish life and consecrated communities: a priest kindly counseling a person who once injured him; a religious sister patiently welcoming the troubled novice whose very presence reopens various old wounds; a married couple choosing silent prayer instead of reigniting an age-old debate. Real mercy can bear rejection, exhaustion, and misunderstanding while continuing to love, not by denying the agony at its true face, but by clinging to a love that rises above it. Mercy may not fail even if those around us remain unmoved or indifferent. Instead, it quietly stirs our own hearts a little closer to Christ's torn Heart-those of an emptied-out Love when it was rejected. The Catechism reminds us that mercy lies at the very heart of the Gospel (cf. CCC 545): far from being weakness, it becomes the most radiant witness to the mystery of the Cross. In this hidden fidelity, His merciful blessing ceases to be mere words spoken over us and becomes a living summons to reflect His compassion through the unnoticed, everyday sacrifices of love.

To accept His merciful blessing, then, is to live like the prodigal’s father (cf. Lk 15:20): to watch, wait, and welcome before an apology is offered; to answer insult with calm, and betrayal with prayer. Our Adorable Jesus does not only want us to receive mercy; He longs to see it reborn in every thought, word, and silence we offer. This mercy asks us to forgive family wounds that shaped us, to respond gently to harsh colleagues, to hold our tongue when criticism feels justified. It asks priests and consecrated souls to show warmth even in exhaustion, and young people to see their trials as a training ground for tenderness. When we live this way, His merciful blessing ceases to be an abstract promise; it becomes the very heartbeat of our daily life—a silent yet living proclamation that divine mercy remains the world’s deepest hope.

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, make our hearts channels of Your merciful blessing. Teach priests to absolve tenderly, consecrated souls to love faithfully, married couples to forgive daily, and young people to serve generously. May Your mercy reshape us until we become, in small hidden ways, reflections of Your boundless love. Amen.

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

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ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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