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.
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