Listening to the Voice of the Holy Spirit

Divine Appeal Reflection - 16

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 16: "There is no response given to the Voice of the Holy Spirit."

The Holy Spirit does not approach the human soul as a stranger. He enters it as its Creator and Healer, knowing its wounds, its fears, and its hidden desires more intimately than the soul knows itself. He is the Breath of Our Adorable Jesus, given not merely to inform us about God, but to draw us into God’s own life.Elijah’s encounter with God reminds us that divine communication requires interior stillness—not because God is weak, but because love never violates freedom (cf. 1 Kgs 19:11–13). Many souls today remain busy, functional, and outwardly religious, yet inwardly inattentive. The Spirit continues to speak, but the heart has learned to rush past Him. Divine Appeal 16 reveals this tragedy gently: God is present, but unanswered.His Voice is not external to our humanity; it passes through our thoughts, memories, emotions, and bodily reactions. This is why His speech feels so human. Often it begins quietly: a sudden awareness that a habit no longer brings peace, a moment of clarity in the middle of confusion, a desire to pray that interrupts routine. In the Church’s teaching, the initiative always belongs to the Holy Spirit, who quietly readies the heart, kindles faith, and empowers the person to answer God’s call with freedom and love (cf. CCC 683; 2001).

The Holy Spirit’s first and most frequent mode of communication is the formation of conscience. This is not a list of rules echoing in the mind, but a light that allows the heart to recognize truth. The Catechism teaches that conscience is the privileged place where the human person encounters God’s law written into the heart (cf. CCC 1776–1778).This often appears as a quiet clarity that follows a decision, or an unease that lingers when we have compromised. The Spirit does not accuse harshly; He reveals lovingly. He helps the soul perceive not only what is sinful, but what diminishes freedom and love. St Paul explains that the Spirit enables us to discern spiritual realities because we have received “the Spirit who is from God” (cf. 1 Cor 2:12–16). When this voice is ignored repeatedly, the conscience becomes dulled—not because God withdraws, but because the heart learns not to attend. This is how spiritual blindness develops: not through rebellion, but through habit. Divine Appeal 16 names this moment with sorrow—truth has been offered, but not welcomed.

The Holy Spirit, in addition to the voice of conscience, very often speaks through attraction, for the Spirit who gives grace draws the human heart not by issuing an order to obey, but by awakening a desire to be drawn. Even before the will has made a decision, the Spirit brings to life a person’s hunger: a silent longing for stillness after years of noise, a gentle pull toward deeper prayer, an unexpected affection for Sacred Scripture, a growing resistance to compromise, or a desire to live with greater simplicity, purity, and truth. These interior movements are neither self-generated attempts at moral improvement nor passing emotional reactions; they are the work of prevenient grace—God taking the initiative, drawing the heart toward Himself, and already supplying the power by which the soul is able to respond (cf. CCC 27; 2001–2002). Yet this is precisely why such desires can be so unsettling. Psychologically, desire reveals the change that is required. To desire holiness is to relinquish familiar attachments; to desire truth is to surrender the illusion of control; to desire God is to allow oneself to be led rather than to manage one’s own story. As a result, the soul frequently resists by delaying conversion while pretending to be wise. Moses hesitated before God not out of unbelief, but out of fear of inadequacy and exposure, protesting his weakness and lack of eloquence when called to speak in the Lord’s name (cf. Exod 3–4). This reveal that resistance to God’s call often arises not from rejection, but from the fear that obedience will dismantle one’s sense of security and reveal human frailty. The Catechism affirms that God’s call respects human freedom while continually inviting it, patiently disturbing false peace so that true peace may emerge (cf. CCC 1730–1733).

The uneasiness of a young person avoiding vocational questions, the internal tension of a professional who perceives a moral compromise, the pain of a parent yearning to return to prayer, and the silent discontent of a priest or religious who knows they are being called deeper are all examples of how the Holy Spirit typically operates in day-to-day life. Such restlessness is frequently a sign of mercy itself—the Spirit tenderly refusing to let the heart settle for activity without love, religion without submission, or comfort without truth—rather than chaos or ingratitude.

Another profound way the Holy Spirit communicates is through the withdrawal of peace. This is often misunderstood. When a soul reaches a point where it must choose a path contrary to its true good, the Spirit allows a knock to come in—the heaviness, agitation, or loss of interior harmony. This is not a punishment; it is protection. The Spirit is at work in Acts 16:6–7, where He closed doors for Paul that were rational but not part of God’s timing. A similar case occurs with David, when the Holy Spirit prevented him from killing Saul, even though the opportunity seemed justified and strategically sound (1 Sam 24; 26). By listening to his impulse or seeking advantage rather than to the Spirit, David risked losing interior peace during danger and injustice. In contract , when the soul submits to God’s plan, the Spirit grants a peace that surpasses all understanding—a calmness that endures even amid suffering (Jn 20:19–22).This restraint demonstrates that true peace does not come from eliminating external threats but from remaining aligned with God’s will—a deep and steadfast inner calm that flows from obedience, not from emotional relief. This peace arises from spiritual harmony, not merely from emotional ease. Divine Appeal 16 reminds us that when this peace is repeatedly ignored, the soul becomes fragmented. Life continues, but coherence is lost. Prayer feels dry, relationships strain, and joy fades. The Spirit is still present, but unheard.

The Holy Spirit’s ultimate work is not to direct isolated actions, but to form the person. The Catechism teaches that He makes the believer a living temple of God, shaping the whole life according to Christ (cf. CCC 736–741). This formation happens through cooperation with grace in ordinary circumstances. Humility allows the soul to admit truth. Purity of heart clears perception. Obedience sharpens spiritual hearing. Over time, the Spirit weaves together prayer, suffering, work, and love into a unified offering. What once felt scattered begins to make sense. The soul becomes internally ordered. This is transfiguration of life rather than escape from it; it is holiness in its most human form. When this process is opposed, Divine Appeal 16 shows what occurs: The soul is still conflicted, preoccupied, and internally agitated. Yet even here, mercy remains. The Spirit never stops inviting.

Responding to the Holy Spirit requires readiness rather than intensity. Silence, prayer, the Eucharist, Confession, and daily acts of obedience dispose the heart to hear. The Spirit usually begins with small invitations: pause before anger, speak truth gently, return to prayer, let go of a hidden sin, offer a quiet sacrifice, love without being seen. These responses tune the soul. Such a life is referred to in Scripture as God's dwelling place (cf. 1 Cor 3:16). Divine Appeal 16 serves as a reminder that the Spirit is already at work in secret lives, families, parishes, and workplaces. He waits for one thing only: a heart willing to answer. When that answer is given, grace flows again, and the quiet work of God resumes—slowly, faithfully, transforming the world from within.

Prayer

Adorable Jesus, You still speak, even when we delay. Heal our deafness, quiet our fears, and soften our wills. We choose listening over noise, obedience over delay. Speak, Lord—we are listening. Amen.

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