Jesus, Crucified Yet Loving

Divine Appeal Reflection - 1

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 1: “My daughter, I am so crucified and abused, blasphemed and denied as I continue to love, serve and heal My poor ones. Under this immense suffering I wish to speak to you and explain something to you. I have waited for you so that you could share this anguish with Me.”

The beginning of the Divine Appeals is like the opening of a hidden wound in the Heart of Our Adorable Jesus. This first stirrings return us to the mystery of Our Adorable Jesus, who from the start of His earthly life chose the hidden path of humility. Born in a manger, He carried in silence the weight of rejection, as Herod sought His life and His people offered no place of welcome (cf. Lk 2:7). Already the pattern is set: He is God-with-us, yet He accepts to be unwanted. This hidden beginning prepares us for the greater revelation at Calvary, where the same Child, now lifted on the Cross, is again rejected and yet offers Himself entirely. His entire life is one continuous kenosis—an emptying of glory into obedience, an emptying of majesty into mercy (cf. Phil 2:7–8). This shows us that His appeals do not begin in words but in a life of surrender, lived for the poor, the sinners, the forgotten. It overturns the assumption that greatness must be recognized—He proves that greatness is truthfully measured by fidelity in obscurity. This means we, too, console Him when we embrace unnoticed love—quiet sacrifices, patient endurance, hidden acts of service. In His first movement of revelation, He teaches us that to love Him is to meet Him in humility.

In His ministry, Our Adorable Jesus unveiled the paradox that defines love divine: to heal yet be resisted, to forgive yet be opposed, to give life yet be rejected. He multiplied bread for thousands, but when He revealed Himself as the true Bread, many withdrew (cf. Jn 6:66). His works were never for display but signs of a Heart that loves without measure. True love does not stop when misunderstood; it gives even when refused. This is the mystery the Church calls Christ’s self-emptying (cf. Phil 2:7; CCC 272). In the Divine Appeals, the same truth shines—Our Adorable Jesus suffers still, yet suffers while loving. He waits in the Eucharist though ignored, He calls through the poor though neglected, He forgives though wounded again. To hear Him is to learn love that endures. This reveals that Christ’s anguish is not born from weakness but from the unrequited nature of His love. His mission unveils God’s fidelity: even when His people rejected Him, He never ceased offering Himself (cf. Rom 3:3–4). It confronts us with the tragedy of freedom misused—how human hearts can prefer comfort over truth. For us, this is not distant history but present reality: He is still misunderstood when the Eucharist is treated as mere event, still rejected when His teachings are diluted, still wounded when His poor are ignored. To console Him means embracing fidelity to His Word, even when it costs us acceptance, and offering love even when it is not returned.

In His final hours, Our Adorable Jesus disclosed the mystery of a love that does not falter under rejection but grows stronger in suffering. When He stood before Pilate in silence, the world mistook it for weakness, yet it was sovereignty hidden beneath restraint—the eternal Word choosing not to defend Himself so that truth might speak through humility (cf. Jn 18:37). At the scourging, His torn flesh became a living commentary on the weight of human sin, yet His Heart did not answer with vengeance but with an embrace wide enough to contain all of history’s cruelty. As He bore the Cross, Our Adorable Jesus carried not wood alone but the invisible weight of humanity’s sins, turning what was shameful into the very road of salvation. Upon Calvary, His words of forgiveness resounded as more than consolation—they became the covenantal seal where mercy prevailed over judgment (cf. Lk 23:34). The Passion discloses God not in displays of power but in the self-emptying of Love who pours Himself out for His beloved (cf. Phil 2:7–8). The Cross teaches us that silence can be eloquent when filled with love (cf. Is 53:7). Remaining faithful without bitterness, enduring wrongs without retaliation, becomes a living homily of mercy. Such silence is not emptiness but intercession that speaks to God for others.

The first stirring of the Divine Appeals is like placing one’s hand upon the trembling pulse of love in the Heart of Our Adorable Jesus. What overwhelms us is not only that He suffers, but that He suffers without ceasing to love. His Passion is not an echo sealed in the corridors of history but a mystery ever alive, sacramentally present in the Eucharist (cf. CCC 1085). Each Mass reveals that His sacrifice is not past but present, not distant but near, not silent but still pleading. His wounds remain open wherever prayer is neglected, wherever the poor are abandoned, wherever His Eucharistic presence is met with cold indifference. Yet Our Adorable Jesus does not turn away; rejection only draws forth a greater outpouring. He remains the One who forgives without limit, heals without weariness, and offers Himself without ceasing (cf. Lk 23:34; Jn 6:51).

This is the divine paradox—pain transformed into intercession, suffering transfigured into love.We glimpse this divine rhythm in Jeremiah’s perseverance when mocked for his prophecy (cf. Jer 20:7–9), in the apostles who sang even as chains bound them in prison (cf. Acts 5:41), and in the saints who carried hidden burdens as secret consolations to the Heart of Our Adorable Jesus. Each bore witness that fidelity in suffering is not wasted but becomes prayer rising to heaven. For us, this path must take flesh in the ordinary: to consecrate each morning with prayer that surrenders the day, to linger in Eucharistic silence while the world rushes past, to extend compassion without seeking recognition, and to forgive generously even when no apology is ever spoken (cf. Mt 6:6; Lk 23:34). Such hidden fidelity, offered in silence, becomes a way of drying His tears and repairing what indifference has wounded. The first Appeal is not only to hear, but to remain—with Him, for Him, and in Him.

Prayer 

Our Adorable Jesus, wounded yet radiant with love, receive us into the depths of Your Sacred Heart. Make us companions of Your anguish and partakers of Your glory. Teach us to watch, to serve, to forgive, and to offer ourselves. May our lives console You and draw souls to Your mercy. Amen

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