The First Blow

Divine Appeal Reflection - 14

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 14: "I want many to know that the first blow is near. If mankind does not turn to Me and repent this will be a time of despair for the impious. With shouts and satanic blasphemy they will beg to be covered with mountains. They will try to seek refuge in caverns but to no avail. Those who will repent will find protection and God’s mercy in My power while all who refuse to repent will perish from their sins."

The “first blow” is not wrath but wounded mercy—Love turning luminous and corrective. When grace is spurned too long, God allows illusions to shatter so truth may breathe again. It is not destruction but unveiling: the collapse of false lights, the breaking that heals, the fire that purifies until only love remains. There are hours when Heaven bends low—not to crush but to reclaim. The “first blow” is such an hour: when divine mercy, long resisted, becomes corrective light. Our Adorable Jesus unveils this not to terrify, but to warn with tenderness. Humanity has exhausted the patience of grace; truth is privatized, prayer mocked, innocence traded for convenience. Yet God still chooses to awaken rather than abandon. The first blow is His cry against our numbness—a mercy that shatters illusions to restore sight. Like the exile of Israel or Jonah’s storm-tossed flight (cf. Jer 2:13; Jon 1), it is love interrupting our idolatrous peace. He allows what shakes us so that we might see what saves us. When economies crumble, families fracture, or ideologies collapse, it is not divine cruelty but purification through truth. Each soul must read these signs personally: the priest weary from routine, the parent engulfed in noise, the youth lost in self-made worlds. For all, this blow is the mercy that strips away false securities until only the Eternal remains. What appears as ruin is mercy’s hidden surgery—cutting deep so that new life may begin. The first blow is Love’s wound calling creation back to its heart.

The first blow unmasks the hidden disease of our age—the idolatry of self-will. Man, forgetting that existence itself is participation in God’s being (cf. CCC 301), has tried to live as though autonomy were salvation. But the soul cut off from its Source becomes barren; freedom without truth turns to slavery. The first blow, then, is not wrath but remedy—divine mercy piercing illusion with purifying light. Our Adorable Jesus permits the collapse of false certainties so that hearts may awaken to their poverty before His Presence (cf. Wis 11:24–26; Jer 2:13). When the altars of pride fall silent, and the idols of progress dim, the spirit—long intoxicated by noise—will remember its thirst for the Eternal (cf. Ps 42:2). In that holy desolation, grace will descend like dew upon ruins. The world will begin to see again that joy is not born of possession but of surrender, that holiness alone sustains beauty, and that love must kneel to adore before it dares to act (cf. Mt 5:8; CCC 27). The first blow is thus Love’s own surgery: mercy wounding to restore vision, truth reclaiming the soul’s forgotten order. It will teach humanity once more its sacred posture—creature before Creator, priest before the Altar, heart before the crucified Face of Love.

Before the earth shakes, the heart must first tremble. Every soul meets its own “first blow” when divine truth pierces false peace and conscience awakens. This moment—terrifying yet tender—is the meeting of sin and mercy. Saint Peter’s tears at dawn (cf. Lk 22:61–62), Mary’s silent anguish at the Cross (cf. Jn 19:25), and Job’s confession amid ruin (cf. Job 42:5–6) all reveal the same mystery: purification before glorification. What appears as loss becomes invitation to intimacy. So too, the world’s collective blow is not annihilation but illumination—a dark night before resurrection. The fire that consumes idols is the same that enkindles sanctity. When the soul surrenders, what once felt like punishment becomes purification. Yet those who resist grace will call light darkness. Still, God’s intention never changes: to restore His image in humanity. The “first blow” is divine surgery—cutting away the infection of self-worship to make space for holiness. In each trembling heart, our Adorable Jesus seeks a new Bethlehem, where humility might once again cradle the Infinite. And if the world kneels amid its ruins, it will find not judgment but the warm radiance of mercy waiting to rebuild from within.

Practically, this revelation is not a summons to fear but to readiness. Our Adorable Jesus does not summon the world to panic, but to purity—a return to order, a reorientation toward the Eternal. The “first blow” is not a sentence of despair but a merciful warning that love must again take the shape of holiness. Across every vocation, this appeal resounds. Parents are called upon to reinstate the household as the first chapel of the Church-where, work brings the much needed blessing, eating turns into moments of sharing, and asking for forgiveness renews love’s daily pact (cf. CCC 1657; Eph 4:32). The priests are to externalize the mystery of the altar, and not as mere habit but as heartfelt, where upon each consecration the world’s wounded fabric is renewed through the Christ’s redeeming fire. The consecrated souls, hidden like living candles, are to help maintain the Church’s pulse through silent fidelity and by offering reparation wherever love has gone cold. And the youth—battered by noise, screens, and counterfeit joys—must rediscover the sacred art of stillness, where vocation is born in listening hearts. This is no sentimental return to the past; it is the forward cry of grace. 

The world’s healing will not begin in systems but in sanctuaries—in kitchens scented with prayer, in confessionals where mercy breathes again, in hearts stripped of distraction and lit by adoration. The first blow will expose what is false, but also awaken what is eternal: that holiness, lived in the ordinary, remains the most revolutionary act in history (cf. Rom 12:1–2). The first blow will purify what comfort has corrupted, awakening hearts to the radical beauty of holiness. For when all else collapses, only the pure in heart will see God and carry His light into the world’s new dawn (cf. Mt 5:8). The protection Jesus promises is not geographical but interior—an indestructible peace in those who dwell within His Sacred Heart (cf. Ps 91:1–2, CCC 1393–1396). The hour of the first blow will separate not the powerful from the weak, but the repentant from the indifferent. Yet, through it, mercy will triumph. For those who live in grace, what shakes the world will deepen their union with God. The Church must shine again—not through conquest, but through crucified love. The first blow will unveil her true beauty: stripped, purified, luminous in fidelity. This darkness is her bridal night, where tears become light and suffering becomes intercession. Through this hidden purification, the Immaculate Heart will reign—not by dominance, but by sanctity. In that dawn, humanity will rediscover its first language—adoration. For when all idols fall, only worship remains, and the wounded Church will reveal again the Face of Eternal Love.

Prayer

Adorable Jesus, let the first blow fall first within my soul—shattering pride, awakening love, and setting truth ablaze. Purify Your Church, heal creation, and renew the face of the earth with Your mercy. Shelter the contrite in Your Sacred Heart, and through justice, let grace be born anew. Amen.

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