Our Freedom, Jesus’ Plan for Our Souls

Divine Appeal Reflection - 193

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 193:  "My plans to work through a soul depends on the freedom that I get from that particular soul. I want to hide in your heart always if you allow Me.”

The most astonishing mystery in this Appeal is that the Almighty desires to work through a creature without violating the creature’s freedom. “My plans to work through a soul depends on the freedom that I get from that particular soul” reveals a divine humility almost too deep for ordinary contemplation. God can create without consultation, command nature without resistance and sustain existence without permission, yet when He approaches the moral freedom of a human person, He waits for consent . Grace precedes the soul, searches for it, awakens it, attracts it and strengthens it, but does not enslave it . This means that the greatest obstacle to a divine plan may not be weakness, lack of talent or difficult circumstances, but an unwilling freedom. Jonah(cf. Jon 1:1–3; 3:1–4; 4:1–11) carried a prophetic calling while his heart resisted the destination to which God was sending him . Moses(cf. Ex 3:10–12; 4:10–16) initially resisted his mission through fear and inadequacy . Ananias(cf. Acts 9:10–19) had to surrender his fear before Saul could receive the ministry God intended to accomplish through him . The young Samuel had to learn that divine initiative can arrive quietly in the night and require a listening heart before the mission becomes clear (cf. 1 Sam 3:1–10). Here lies a terrifyingly beautiful truth: God's plan may be perfect while our cooperation remains incomplete. A priest may be surrounded by souls yet give Christ little interior freedom. A parent may ask God to transform a family while refusing to surrender anger. A religious may desire holiness while defending the need to be appreciated. A professional may ask God to use his talents while reserving his finances from moral scrutiny. A young person may ask for vocation while secretly insisting upon conditions. The question is therefore not simply, “What does God want to do through me?” but “How much freedom have I actually given Him?” .

The words “the freedom that I get from that particular soul” reveal that divine cooperation enters history through concrete personal surrender. God does not ask an abstract humanity to cooperate; He asks this soul, with this temperament, this history, these wounds, these gifts, these responsibilities and these particular relationships . The phrase “that particular soul” destroys spiritual comparison. Christ does not ask us to become someone else; He asks the fidelity that belongs to our own vocation. The widow of Zarephath was not called to become Elijah;(cf. 1 Kgs 17:8–16) her little flour and oil became the place where providence appeared . Bezalel was not called to become Moses;(cf. Ex 31:1–6; 35:30–35) his craftsmanship became the means through which the sanctuary took shape . Grace works similarly in us: the mother through patient love, the priest through ministry, the worker through honest labour, the student through study, and the sick through trusting surrender. God does not ordinarily sanctify us by making us someone else, but by filling our own calling with His grace . Holiness begins when we stop asking why we were not given another person’s mission and faithfully offer God what He has entrusted to us. The carpenter, teacher, mother, priest, farmer, professional, religious, or elderly person may discover that the very gifts and circumstances they once considered ordinary can become instruments of Divine Love when surrendered to Him . Holiness therefore begins not with imitation of another person's calling, but with allowing Our Adorable Jesus to transform our own vocation into a place of His Presence. Phoebe did not exercise apostolic mission in Paul's manner,(cf. Rom 16:1–2) yet her service became significant for the early Christian community . Thus freedom is surrendered not only through dramatic vocations but through thousands of ordinary permissions. A school secretary may allow Christ to work through her when she refuses to humiliate an impatient parent . A mechanic may permit Christ to work through him by refusing to exaggerate a repair bill (cf. Lev 19:35–36; Lk 16:10). A farmer may sanctify his work by refusing to cheat a neighbour over measurements . A daughter caring for an elderly parent may give Christ access to her fatigue when she chooses tenderness instead of resentment . A priest may give Christ freedom when he allows an unexpected interruption to become an apostolic encounter rather than an annoyance (cf. Mk 5:21–34). Divine plans often enter the world through permissions so small that the soul itself scarcely recognises their eternal significance . The mystery is not that God needs our abilities. He desires our consent because love seeks communion, and communion requires freedom .

The word “always” makes the Appeal far more demanding than a call to occasional devotion. Jesus does not ask to be welcomed only during Mass, Eucharistic adoration, a retreat, a crisis, a novena or an emotionally consoling prayer. He desires continual access to the person . This does not mean uninterrupted emotional awareness of God; (cf. CCC 2697–2699)it means that the whole person gradually becomes oriented toward Him . The most profound surrender may therefore occur in places that appear completely unrelated to mystical life. A nurse washing an abandoned patient can silently surrender irritation to Christ (cf. Mt 25:40; Phil 2:3–5). A father receiving a disrespectful message from his adult child can pause before answering and allow Jesus to govern his first reaction (cf. Jas 1:19–20; Prov 15:1). A parish treasurer discovering an accounting error can choose transparency rather than concealment . A seminarian receiving correction can resist the instinct to defend himself and allow humiliation to become purification . A married woman carrying a private wound can choose not to rehearse the injury repeatedly in her imagination . A young man alone at night can decide that the person on the other side of his screen must never be reduced to an object (cf. Job 31:1; Mt 5:28–29). In these moments, Christ is not merely being “remembered”; He is being given freedom to act (cf. Gal 5:16–25). This transforms ordinary morality into mystical cooperation. Every temptation can become a place where Christ asks, “May I have this part of your freedom?” Every correction can become another door. Every unexpected sacrifice can become another permission. Every act of forgiveness can enlarge the interior territory available to grace . Saint Francis de Sales taught the sanctification of ordinary duties; Saint Jeanne Jugan demonstrated hidden self-giving in the service of the poor; Saint Isidore the Farmer revealed how apparently simple labour can become permeated with fidelity. Holiness is therefore not merely what happens when we pray; it is what happens when the freedom formed by prayer begins to govern everything else . The soul gradually reaches the point where it no longer asks only, “Is this permitted?” but, “Does this give Jesus greater freedom to live through me?” 

The final mystery is almost frightening in its intimacy: “My plans,” “a soul,” “your freedom,” “your heart,” “always.” Christ does not merely ask permission to dwell within the soul; He desires the freedom of that soul so completely that His love can pass through it into places the soul itself may never reach . The surrendered person becomes a meeting point between divine initiative and human freedom,(cf. 1 Cor 3:9; 2 Cor 6:1) a hidden sanctuary through which grace can enter another person’s history . This mystery is already visible in Mary: after receiving the Word within herself, she carried Him into the house of Elizabeth, and the presence she bore awakened joy even before Christ was visibly seen (cf. Lk 1:39–45). The Samaritan woman did not possess theological training or apostolic status;(cf. Jn 4:28–30, 39–42) she simply allowed her encounter with Christ to become an invitation through which others came to Him . The Gerasene man was not permitted to remain physically beside Jesus;(cf. Mk 5:18–20) he was sent into his own surroundings, where his transformed life became proclamation . Even the widow’s two small coins disclose this hidden economy:(cf. Mk 12:41–44; 1 Sam 16:7) what appears negligible before human eyes can possess immense weight before God because love measures the interior gift rather than its external magnitude . Onesimus,(cf. Phlm 10–16; Gal 3:28) once regarded merely through his social status, entered a new identity within Christ’s communion as a brother .  A grandmother praying alone may never know which future temptation her Rosary helped another soul overcome. A priest’s fidelity in the confessional may become the beginning of a conversion whose later fruits he never witnesses. A teacher’s refusal to shame one struggling child may protect a fragile conscience from years of despair. A businessman who rejects corruption may quietly teach an entire workplace that conscience cannot be bought (cf. Mt 5:14–16; Phil 2:15–16). A hidden sufferer united to Christ may intercede for souls separated from him by continents and generations (cf. Col 1:24; 2 Cor 4:10–12). This is the hidden apostolic power of a heart possessed by Christ: the soul may remain unnoticed while divine love travels through it.

Therefore the Appeal becomes an examination not merely of what we believe, but of what we still refuse to place at Christ’s disposal. What could He accomplish through this life if fear no longer governed its decisions? What grace remains unopened because I insist on being comfortable? Which person might encounter mercy if I surrendered my resentment? Which vocation might become fruitful if I stopped demanding recognition? Which divine invitation have I repeatedly postponed because obedience would disturb my plans? . The deepest surrender is not simply, “Jesus, help me,” but “Jesus, You may use me.” It is allowing Him to interrupt the timetable we have constructed, purify ambitions we have baptized as good, redirect relationships we have tried to control, touch wounds we have protected, and claim a future whose shape we cannot yet see . Mary’s fiat reveals this extraordinary freedom: God does not destroy her freedom in order to accomplish His plan; He finds in her freedom the humble doorway through which His Word enters history . The same mystery unfolds whenever a Christian freely cooperates with grace . Then ordinary existence becomes sacramental in its hidden apostolic meaning: the parent loving when exhausted, the worker choosing honesty when dishonesty would profit, the spouse forgiving without applause, the religious persevering through dryness, the priest remaining faithful when misunderstood, the sick person offering pain for souls, the student choosing purity when nobody would know . The greatest mystical transformation occurs when the soul no longer asks only, “How can Christ live in me?” but dares to surrender further: “Christ, live through me.” Then His plans begin to enter earthly history through human decisions; His mercy acquires human hands, His compassion human eyes, His patience human endurance, His forgiveness human gestures, and His love human self-gift . The heart becomes His hidden dwelling, freedom becomes His instrument, and ordinary life becomes an unseen extension of His mission. A surrendered soul becomes a place where Heaven can quietly touch earth.

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, enter the deepest sanctuary of our hearts and claim our freedom entirely. Break every hidden resistance, attachment, fear, and self-will that keeps us from Your grace. Make our ordinary duties, sufferings, relationships, and sacrifices channels of Your love for wounded souls. Live through us, love through us, and lead through us those whom Your mercy desires to draw closer to Your Heart. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 193

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME 1

“My plans to work through a soul depends on the freedom that I get from that particular soul.”

“My daughter, listen to My words of Mercy to you. I beg you to pray a great deal in these dark and terrible hours. In silence make hours of reparation for the terrible blasphemies and abuses that I am receiving  day and night in the prison of My Love. I call you to be strong in the faith. Do not be afraid. In order for you to be able to confront whatever comes up when you are tempted, raise your heart to Me.

I pour My tears of blood over souls who are stepping on Me. Keep yourself in My Grace. My plans to work through a soul depends on the freedom that I get from that particular soul. I want to hide in your heart always if you allow Me.”

17th September 1988

Copyright © 2015 The Late Bishop Cornelius K. Arap Korir | Catholic Diocese of Eldoret, Kenya. All rights reserved. Reproduced by adivineappeal.com from "On the Eucharist: A Divine Appeal" (Vol. 1).

Fight to Win Souls for Eternity

Divine Appeal Reflection - 192

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 192: “Ministers should remain immured from contagion and fight to win souls for eternity.”

The decisive word in this Appeal is not merely “immured” but “fight.” To be immured from contagion means that the minister must guard the interior sanctuary of his soul; but to fight means that he must then enter the spiritual conflict with Christ for the sake of souls. Ministry is therefore not spiritual spectatorship, religious administration or passive preservation. It is participation in the Shepherd’s own labour of seeking, defending, healing and recovering what sin has wounded . The battlefield is largely invisible: truth struggles against deception, grace against habitual sin, purity against exploitation, forgiveness against vengeance, hope against despair, prayer against spiritual negligence, and eternal destiny against the enchantment of temporal things . Yet the enemy is never the human person. The minister fights for the person while resisting everything that seeks to deform, enslave or destroy that person (cf. Eph 6:12; 2 Cor 10:3–5). Moses(cf. Ex 5:1–9) fought by standing before Pharaoh when freedom was being denied to Israel . Esther fought by risking her position for a threatened people (cf. Est 4:13–16). Nehemiah fought by rebuilding while simultaneously guarding what was being rebuilt (cf. Neh 4:7–23). Even the unnamed servant girl in Naaman’s household fought spiritually through a small act of courageous testimony that opened a path toward healing (cf. 2 Kgs 5:1–4). Thus apostolic combat takes many forms. A priest fights when he refuses to abandon the penitent who has fallen repeatedly, continuing to see beyond the failure toward the possibility of grace (cf. Lk 15:20–24; Jn 21:15–17). A religious fights when she protects a vulnerable soul from manipulation and exploitation . A parent fights when he refuses to surrender his children's imagination to pornography, cynicism, hatred, or whatever gradually distorts the heart . A teacher fights when he refuses to pronounce a troubled student hopeless, patiently searching for the good that may still be hidden beneath wounded behaviour (cf. 1 Thess 5:14; Gal 6:1). A professional fights when conscience becomes more valuable than profit (cf. Mk 8:36; CCC 1776–1782). A young person fights when, alone before a screen, he rejects the invitation of sin and chooses Christ instead (cf. Mt 5:29–30; 1 Cor 6:18). In every vocation, the first victory is not defeating another person but refusing to surrender one's own heart to the evil one whom Christ has sent us to resist .

But the Appeal goes deeper: “fight to win souls.” This transforms Christian combat from defence into rescue. The minister does not fight because he enjoys confrontation; he fights because he has glimpsed the immeasurable worth of a soul before God . Every person carries a mystery deeper than his present condition: beneath the sin, failure, addiction, anger, wounds, history, or distance from God, grace still sees a person capable of being renewed in Christ . The apostolic heart therefore refuses to reduce anyone to his worst moment, because Christ did not come merely to condemn what is broken, but to seek, heal, restore, and bring the lost home . Paul(cf. Gal 4:19; Col 1:24–29) understood this battle as a labour of spiritual birth, carrying communities through prayer, suffering, correction, teaching and patient endurance . Epaphras offers an extraordinary hidden image of combat:(cf. Col 4:12–13) he struggled before God in prayer for souls whom he could not control, manipulate or physically accompany, desiring that they might become mature in Christ . Abigail fought differently. She entered a moment of impending violence, humbled herself and spoke wisdom that prevented bloodshed and redirected David’s anger (cf. 1 Sam 25:18–35). Ebed-melech(cf. Jer 38:7–13) fought through courageous intervention to rescue Jeremiah from death when others had abandoned him . These reveal that spiritual fighting may mean confronting a powerful person, preventing a tragedy, interceding secretly, speaking a difficult truth, protecting the vulnerable or refusing to allow another soul to disappear unnoticed.A grandmother fights when she keeps carrying a grandchild who has abandoned the sacraments before Our Adorable Jesus in persistent prayer (cf. Lk 18:1; Col 4:2). A catechist fights when she patiently seeks the child who has stopped attending, refusing to let absence become invisibility . A priest fights when he gives an additional hour to a despairing penitent, listening patiently rather than reducing Confession to a routine appointment (cf. Rom 12:15; Jas 5:19–20). A spouse fights for a wounded marriage when forgiveness is costly, yet fidelity remains possible . In each instance, love refuses to abandon the soul simply because the battle has become harder; it remains faithful precisely where perseverance is most costly, because grace may be working beneath the surface long after visible signs of change have disappeared . A prison chaplain fights when he continues seeing a prisoner as capable of redemption. A contemplative fights unseen in a chapel for priests who may never know her name. To fight for souls is to allow another person’s salvation to become sufficiently precious that indifference becomes impossible. This is why Christian apostolate cannot be measured only by visibility; some of the fiercest battles of the Church are fought where nobody applauds (cf. Mt 6:6; CCC 2685–2687).

There is also a hidden battlefield within the fighter himself: he must fight against becoming tired of fighting. Repeated exposure to human weakness can quietly dull the heart until another person’s suffering no longer awakens compassion. The priest hears the same sins and gradually becomes mechanical; the religious encounters repeated conflict and becomes cynical; the catechist watches another young person fall and begins to expect failure; the parent corrects the same behaviour until patience becomes irritation; the pastoral worker meets poverty so often that compassion slowly hardens into professional routine . The danger is not merely exhaustion of the body, but exhaustion of wonder—the loss of the ability to see each wounded person as someone infinitely precious before God . Thus the apostolic soul must continually return to Christ, allowing His Heart to renew the compassion that human repetition can erode (cf. Mt 11:28–30; Jn 15:4–5). Here the enemy no longer appears dramatically. It enters through acedia, resignation, indifference and the quiet conviction that another soul is no longer worth the effort (cf. CCC 2730–2733). Elijah reached a point of exhaustion where his prophetic courage collapsed into the desire to disappear, yet God restored him rather than condemning his weakness (cf. 1 Kgs 19:4–18). Jeremiah(cf. Jer 20:7–13) carried the anguish of prophetic fidelity amid rejection and misunderstanding . Baruch, Jeremiah’s faithful companion, also needed to hear that his personal expectations could not become greater than the divine mission entrusted to him (cf. Jer 45:1–5). The minister therefore needs prayer, Eucharistic nourishment, confession, fraternity, legitimate rest, wise boundaries and spiritual direction—not as escapes from battle, but as means of remaining capable of fighting faithfully . The wounded soldier who returns to the source of strength is not abandoning the battlefield. He is preparing to remain there without becoming another casualty. The victory does not depend upon the minister’s personality, eloquence or endurance alone. Christ remains the source of all apostolic fruitfulness (cf. Jn 15:4–5). When prayer seems unanswered, a child remains distant, a parishioner repeatedly falls, or an apostolate appears fruitless, the servant must remember that hidden grace may still be working . To keep praying, loving, forgiving, and serving when results are unseen is itself a form of spiritual combat (cf. Gal 6:9; Heb 10:35–36). Before God, faithfulness is never wasted .

The words “for eternity” reveal what makes this fight radically different from every merely human struggle. The minister is not fighting merely for better behaviour, successful programmes, parish statistics, institutional reputation or temporary religious enthusiasm. He is fighting because the human person is created for communion with God, and because separation from God is not a trivial possibility . This gives apostolic love an almost frightening seriousness. A crowded church can conceal lonely souls. A beautifully organised ministry can conceal spiritual exhaustion. A gifted preacher can possess an impoverished interior life. A successful professional can quietly be losing his conscience. A respectable family can carry an unforgiven wound silently through generations, while outward peace conceals an interior distance that only God fully sees . The minister who truly sees eternity therefore cannot remain satisfied with appearances; beneath reputation, success, good behaviour, or social respectability, he begins asking the more penetrating question: What is happening to this soul before God? . The Eucharist becomes the school in which this question is purified, because before the Real Presence the soul learns to look beyond what is visible and to see persons with the compassion, truth, and mercy of Christ . What appears successful to the world may be wounded before God, and what appears forgotten may be precious in His sight . Before the tabernacle, the minister learns that Christ is not looking at crowds but persons; not statistics but hearts; not reputations but eternal histories. The Good Shepherd searches for the one who is lost . Zacchaeus(cf. Lk 19:1–10) is pursued beneath his public reputation . Peter is sought beneath his failure (cf. Jn 21:15–19). The repentant criminal is received when almost no earthly opportunity for restitution remains (cf. Lk 23:39–43). This is the logic of apostolic combat: never declare a soul finished while grace is still calling. A minister therefore becomes something like a watchman of eternity—not because he controls another person’s destiny, but because love obliges him to warn, intercede, accompany, correct, encourage and proclaim while there is still time .  The religious fights through fidelity when nobody notices. Parents fight when they preserve the moral and spiritual atmosphere of their home. Teachers fight when they defend the dignity and conscience of the young. Workers fight when they refuse dishonest practices. The elderly fight through persevering intercession. The sick fight when their suffering is surrendered to Christ in love . The battlefield may be a pulpit, a kitchen, a classroom, a hospital room, an office, a prison, a farm, a monastery or a silent chapel; wherever a soul is at stake, apostolic combat is possible.

The deepest mystery of “fight” is that Christ does not ask His servants to fight instead of Him, but to fight with Him and in Him . The minister’s hands become instruments of the Shepherd’s hands; his voice can carry truth into a wounded conscience; his patience can become an extension of Christ’s patience; his tears can become intercession; his sacrifices can become hidden petitions before the Father . Even his Eucharistic adoration becomes a hidden battlefield where souls unknown to him are entrusted to Divine Mercy (cf. Col 4:2–3; 1 Tim 2:1–4). Here spiritual combat reaches its summit: not in defeating an enemy, but in allowing sacrificial love to enter the battle until Christ’s mercy has room to reach another soul . Christ conquers without becoming like the enemy. He answers hatred with love,(cf. 1 Pet 2:21–24; Jn 12:24–26) falsehood with truth, violence with self-giving, abandonment with fidelity and death with resurrection . The minister therefore fights whenever he refuses to let evil dictate the manner in which he loves. He fights when he forgives without approving injustice, corrects without humiliating, warns without hatred, disciplines without cruelty, evangelises without manipulation, and remains pure without despising the impure . Saint Josephine Bakhita revealed the victorious power of forgiveness; Saint Marianne Cope showed how charity can enter places where suffering has become ordinary; Saint Lawrence of Brindisi demonstrated how learning and missionary courage can become weapons of truth; Saint Maria Cristina Brando manifested how Eucharistic love can become apostolic self-offering. The final weapon is therefore not human force but Christ Himself received, adored, obeyed and carried into the world . The minister who kneels before Our Adorable Jesus learns how to stand before Pharaohs, temptations, scandals, discouragement, and hostile environments without surrendering his soul . He learns to fight without hatred, suffer without bitterness, correct without pride, persevere without applause, and intercede without demanding visible results. The true apostolic warrior is not the one who destroys an opponent, but the soul that allows Christ to destroy whatever keeps another soul from returning home . The Appeal therefore becomes an examination of every vocation: What am I fighting for? What am I willing to sacrifice? Which soul have I stopped fighting for because I became tired? Which evil have I tolerated because resistance became inconvenient? Which truth have I silenced because courage became costly? (cf. Rev 2:2–4; Jas 4:17). Before the Eucharistic Christ, the answer becomes unmistakable: fight for holiness, truth, purity, the wounded, and the despairing; fight through prayer, sacrifice, fidelity, and love . Fight not for victory over people, but for their return to God—and persevere until every grace entrusted to your vocation has been spent for souls and eternity .

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, keep us awake and brave when the struggle for souls becomes difficult . Protect our hearts from anything that makes us careless in love, truth, or fidelity . Strengthen priests, families, consecrated souls, and all Your servants to keep praying, sacrificing, forgiving, and serving even when we feel tired or discouraged . May our ordinary lives become gentle instruments of Your grace, helping wounded souls find their way back to You and toward eternal life . Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 192

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME 1

“Ministers should remain immured from contagion and fight to win souls for eternity.”

“My daughter, be patient and listen to Me. You know what I beg from you. Pray a great deal. Humanity does not want to listen to My call, in the frontline those consecrated to Me. The devil works in them in 

order to corrupt souls. He is very astute. What a pain to Me! Behold I speak to you amid continuous tears. Many... betray Me and they lead many souls to perdition. They are bound to Satan. I cannot stand this evil which grows to monstrous proportion by those to whom I gave the duty of saving souls and stopping this desolating course. Time plants weeds and ignominy. Pray a great deal.

My Church is desolate because of iniquitous evil. They refuse the truth. These... ministers should remain immured from contagion and fight to win souls for eternity. I have come to exhort sinners. Souls

are lost and many good ones live lethargic lives in bushes of which they are unable to come out. I want you to pray and implore for the mitigation of evil in mankind.

In these terrible hours I pour tears of blood for all the abuses, blasphemies and insults I receive in all Sacrament of My Love from the souls I love so much. Tell souls that they have to take advantage to renew their lives before it is too late. I am appealing to them all. I need them to lift up their souls from the mire and to leave their mediocrity.”

“I call them to My Mercy where they will get all the light to eternity.”

11th August 1988

Copyright © 2015 The Late Bishop Cornelius K. Arap Korir | Catholic Diocese of Eldoret, Kenya. All rights reserved. Reproduced by adivineappeal.com from "On the Eucharist: A Divine Appeal" (Vol. 1).

Being Docile to Jesus’ Warnings

Divine Appeal Reflection - 191

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 191:  "I call souls to be docile to My warnings. Time is coming when souls will want and long to hear My words but they will not."

Docility begins when the soul allows truth to have the final word. Our Adorable Jesus is not calling souls merely to hear more religious words; He is calling them to become inwardly pliable before grace. A docile heart does not ask first, “Do I like this?” but, “Lord, what are You asking me to receive, surrender or change?” One of Scripture's remarkable examples is King Josiah. When the forgotten Book of the Law was discovered in the Temple, the king did not treat the discovery as historical information; he allowed the Word to judge the condition of the nation, tore his garments and sought God's direction (cf. 2 Kgs 22:8–13). Yet the answer came through Huldah,(cf. 2 Kgs 22:14–20) a woman prophet whose voice the king's officials received with seriousness . Docility is the mystical poverty of allowing God to speak through whatever instrument He chooses, even when the messenger is beneath our rank, younger than ourselves, or carrying no human authority . A bishop may learn from a poor parishioner, a professor from a student, a father from a child, or a superior from a junior member of the community. Ebed-melech, an Ethiopian servant overlooked by the powerful,(cf. Jer 38:7–13) perceived an injustice others had tolerated and risked himself to rescue Jeremiah . His humility did not make him passive; it made him available to truth. Samuel had to learn that God's voice could come through a person he had not expected, (cf. 1 Sam 3:8–10; 2 Kgs 5:10–14) while Naaman had to receive healing through instructions delivered by servants rather than through his own preferred manner of being healed . The Catechism(cf. CCC 1776–1782) teaches that conscience must be formed according to truth and faithfully followed . Thus, docility is not surrendering discernment, but surrendering the ego's demand to control how truth must arrive. The soul becomes spiritually dangerous when it hears Scripture without allowing Scripture(cf. Heb 4:12–13; Jas 1:22–25) to judge its thoughts, motives, attachments, and excuses . True docility is deeper than listening: it is permitting Divine Truth to enter, disturb, purify, and rearrange the interior world until the soul can honestly pray, “Speak, Lord; Your servant is listening” .

The Appeal becomes more searching when the warning of God arrives through the very word our wounded self refuses to receive. Micaiah stood before Ahab as an almost solitary witness,(cf. 1 Kgs 22:6–28) refusing to convert prophecy into royal reassurance . Ahab was not deprived of revelation;(cf. 2 Tim 4:3–4; Jer 6:16–17) he was imprisoned by his preference for voices that protected his desires . This is one of the deepest dangers of the spiritual life:(cf. Isa 30:9–11; Jn 3:19–21) the soul can surround itself with information about God while secretly constructing a world in which God is permitted to speak only what confirms it . The executive who dismisses reports of humiliation, the priest who rejects painful pastoral feedback, the husband who refuses to see how his silence wounds his wife, the superior who interprets every concern as rebellion, and the young Catholic who repeatedly returns to content that inflames impurity or contempt are not necessarily lacking warnings;(cf. Prov 12:15; 15:31–32; Ps 141:5) they may be resisting the grace hidden within the warning . Samuel had to become still enough to recognise a voice he did not initially understand, while Naaman had to accept healing through instructions that offended his expectations (cf. 1 Sam 3:7–10; 2 Kgs 5:10–14). Thus docility is a form of spiritual poverty:(cf. Ps 139:23–24; Lam 3:40) allowing Divine Truth to enter places where the ego has already pronounced judgment . St. Catherine of Siena repeatedly joins humility with truthful self-knowledge before God;(cf. CCC 2559) the Catechism likewise places humility at the beginning of prayer because prayer begins when the soul abandons the illusion of self-sufficiency . The proud soul wants God to reveal Himself without revealing the soul; the docile soul permits the Word to become a sword that separates truth from self-deception (cf. Heb 4:12–13). Sometimes Our Adorable Jesus wounds our self-image because He is touching the deeper wound beneath it. His correction may feel like rejection, yet secretly it can be mercy; His rebuke may feel like loss, yet it can be liberation; His truth may humble us, yet that very humility can become the doorway through which Divine Love finally reaches what pride had sealed away . The most dangerous soul is therefore not the one that never hears God's warning, but the one that hears it clearly and continually explains it away .

Another extraordinary biblical school of docility appears in the daughters of Zelophehad. They approached Moses with a genuine difficulty concerning their family's inheritance (cf. Num 27:1–7). Moses did not defend his authority, improvise an answer, or conceal his uncertainty;(cf. Num 27:5–7; Ex 18:19) he brought their question before the Lord, and God gave light . Here authority becomes contemplative:(cf. Deut 17:8–11; Jas 1:5) the true leader is not diminished by admitting that he must listen, because his authority itself remains beneath the greater authority of God . Spiritual maturity therefore means knowing not only when to speak, but when to become silent before a truth arriving through another person . A priest may need to say, “I need to pray about this”; a parent may admit to an adult child, “I was wrong”; a superior may reconsider a decision after listening to the community; a doctor may seek another specialist rather than protect professional pride; a catechist may discover that a teenager's question exposes a deeper weakness in his explanation of the faith; a husband may finally recognise through his wife's perception what he could not see himself . Elihu waited before speaking, acknowledging that wisdom is not automatically possessed by the young or the old,(cf. Job 32:6–14; 38:1–4; 42:1–6) while the entire drama of Job ultimately teaches that human understanding must bow before the mystery of God . The Catechism (cf. CCC 88–95) likewise holds together fidelity to the Church's teaching authority and the responsibility of the faithful to receive, understand, and transmit the truth . St. Benedict begins his spiritual path with attentive listening, because obedience first requires a heart capable of receiving (cf. Jas 1:19–22; Rule of St. Benedict, Prologue). Sometimes Our Adorable Jesus does not need to send another revelation; He needs to remove the pride that prevents us from recognising the wisdom already standing before us . The deepest authority is therefore not the power to have the final word, but the humility to remain beneath the Word . 

Docility is tested most deeply when God's answer contradicts our preferred timetable. The Shunammite woman received a son as an unexpected gift,(cf. 2 Kgs 4:8–17, 18–37) only to carry his sudden death into the mystery of God's silence . Her faith does not offer a formula that every tragedy will be reversed;(cf. Hab 3:17–19; Job 13:15) it reveals something more profound—the soul can cling to God even when it cannot understand what God is doing . Paul likewise records that Trophimus remained sick at Miletus, (cf. 2 Tim 4:20) showing that apostolic faith does not require pretending that every suffering will receive the outcome we desire . Timothy's recurring weakness(cf. 1 Tim 5:23) was met with practical pastoral care rather than a simplistic promise of miraculous healing . Docility therefore means allowing God to remain God when His answer is different from our request . A couple may pray for a child and remain in years of waiting; a missionary may labour for conversion and see little fruit; a sick person may pray for healing yet receive grace to walk faithfully through treatment; a priest may plead for reconciliation while another remains unwilling; a young person may surrender a desired vocation when Providence closes that door . The docile soul does not immediately interpret every closed door as divine rejection;(cf. Acts 16:6–10; Jn 21:18–22) it asks, “Lord, what does fidelity look like here?” . St. Francis de Sales taught patient cooperation with Providence, while St. Thérèse revealed the immense apostolic value of hidden fidelity. The deepest docility is therefore not understanding God's plan, but remaining lovingly available within it (cf. Prov 3:5–6; Lk 1:38). It is loving God when Providence refuses to explain itself, trusting that hidden does not mean absent, and delayed does not mean forgotten (cf. Ps 13:1–6; Jn 20:29; CCC 305–314).

The final warning—that souls may eventually long to hear God's word and yet not hear it—can be understood as the terrible harvest of repeatedly refusing present grace . The tragedy of the rich man and Lazarus is therefore deeper than wealth versus poverty: Lazarus lay at his gate, repeatedly within the reach of his mercy,(cf. Lk 16:19–31; 1 Jn 3:17–18) yet his suffering remained invisible to a heart gradually sealed by indifference . When the rich man finally desires a warning for his brothers, the earthly moment for responding to grace has passed. The Bereans reveal the opposite disposition: they received the Word eagerly while examining it carefully in Scripture (cf. Acts 17:10–12; 1 Jn 4:1), showing that authentic docility unites openness with discernment . They neither hardened themselves against the Word nor surrendered their minds uncritically; (cf. Heb 4:12–13) they allowed truth to search them while humbly seeking its light . The Syrophoenician woman reveals another mystery: she encountered a response she could not immediately understand (cf. Mk 7:24–30; Mt 15:21–28), (cf. Ps 27:13–14; Rom 8:24–25) yet refused to allow apparent rejection to extinguish her trust . She remained at the threshold of mercy when she could not yet understand the manner in which mercy was moving. Thus, docility sometimes means remaining beneath a word until its hidden grace becomes visible . Docility therefore does not mean surrendering reason; it means surrendering the pride that makes our own judgment the final court . Spiritual deafness often begins quietly: forgiveness postponed, a habit excused, Confession delayed, prayer continually displaced, reconciliation deferred . Repeated resistance can gradually dull the conscience (cf. 1 Tim 4:1–2). The Catechism(cf. CCC 1428) therefore presents conversion as a continual call requiring an ever-deeper response to grace . The Divine Appeal therefore speaks with urgency: do not wait until you long for a voice you are presently resisting. If Scripture unsettles you, remain beneath its light (cf. Heb 4:12–13); if conscience exposes an attachment, surrender it (cf. Ps 139:23–24); if correction wounds your pride, receive it prayerfully (cf. Prov 12:1); if Christ asks forgiveness, obey ; if charity interrupts your plans, recognise the interruption as an opportunity for love . The docile soul remains spiritually alive because it never merely hears God's Word—it continually allows the Word to become flesh in its life .

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, make our hearts humble, attentive, and docile before Your truth . Give us courage to receive correction, wisdom to discern Your warnings, and patience when Your answers differ from ours . Preserve us from hardened hearts, and turn every interruption into deeper conversion, love, and fidelity . Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 191

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME 1

“A soul can only be defended when it is on the way to perdition.”

“Time is coming when souls will want and long to hear My words but they will not.

Listen to My cry of Mercy towards mankind. I am in search of souls waiting and longing. I thirst. I come to seek shelter. Souls consecrated to Me have chosen mediocrity. What a pain to Me! More than ever they place obstacles of uncertainty before My living words. I need and long for My words to reach souls that torture Me so much. In the Sacrament of my Love I endure... I beg you to pray and reflect deeply on this tragedy. I call you to atone for souls before it is too late. When a soul falls into perdition it is eternally lost. A soul can only be defended when it is on the way to perdition.

I pour My tears of blood over mankind and I cry to the faithful souls to defend many poor souls running into perdition. My great love towards these souls keeps Me subjected to all humiliations. In the frontline... betray Me like Judas. They drag many souls into perdition. They do not heed or listen to any of My warnings given by Myself and through My Most Holy Mother.

I call souls to be docile to My warnings. Time is coming when souls will want and long to hear My words but they will not. Time is short. I call on the small hosts to defend My Church. The... hurl themselves against it. Pray a great deal.

As I am exposed I will pour the treasures of My infinite Mercy into human souls.”

“I give My blessing.”

Copyright © 2015 The Late Bishop Cornelius K. Arap Korir | Catholic Diocese of Eldoret, Kenya. All rights reserved. Reproduced by adivineappeal.com from "On the Eucharist: A Divine Appeal" (Vol. 1).

The Strokes of the Chisel

Divine Appeal Reflection - 190

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 190:  "Bring Me more souls in your prayers. Many times. I give you keen pleasure so that as it fills your heart with love you may recognise Me. I call you to leave yourself to the strokes of the chisel. I love you to the point of doing the good I want to souls."

There is a depth in the image of the chisel that reaches beyond ordinary ideas of suffering. Our Adorable Jesus presents sanctification as the patient work of the Divine Sculptor, who sees the likeness hidden beneath what appears rough, disproportionate, and unfinished . The soul feels the stroke; God sees the transformation. What appears painful may be removing an attachment, purifying an intention, or breaking hidden self-reliance . The Sculptor knows what must be removed because He already sees the beauty He is bringing forth. Thus, the soul is invited not merely to endure the chisel, but to trust the Hand that holds it (cf. Wis 11:23–24). Every faithful surrender allows Christ to be formed more deeply within us . The soul sees the wound; God sees the likeness. The soul feels removal; God sees preparation. The soul asks why something must be surrendered; God knows what cannot remain if Christ is to become more recognisable within it . The potter in Jeremiah reshapes clay according to his purpose (cf. Jer 18:1–6), while Isaiah(cf. Is 64:8) speaks of humanity as clay in the hands of its Maker . Yet the chisel image reveals something particularly intimate: God is not creating a lifeless object but transforming a person capable of cooperating with grace. Peter(cf. Lk 22:31–32) had to be chiselled away from self-confidence before he could strengthen others . Jacob wrestled through the night and emerged wounded yet renamed, because divine encounter had altered the very identity by which he understood himself (cf. Gen 32:22–30). Saul(cf. Acts 9:1–19) lost his sight before learning to see differently . Sometimes grace first destroys our confidence that we already know what holiness should look like. A failed promotion, ended apostolate, unanswered prayer, painful correction, or difficult responsibility may become a Divine stroke, purifying what we cannot yet see . Peter discovered that his self-confidence had to be broken before Christ could deepen his love and entrust him with souls . The Catechism (cf. CCC 1427–1429; 2012–2016) presents Christian life as continual conversion and conformity to Christ . The chisel therefore asks: What if God is not merely changing my circumstances, but changing me into the likeness of Christ? .

The strokes become especially mysterious when God permits the chisel to touch something genuinely good that has become spiritually dangerous through excessive attachment. Abraham did not have to surrender Isaac because Isaac was evil; he had to discover that even the promised gift could never become more precious than the Giver (cf. Gen 22:1–14). Hannah likewise received Samuel and then returned him to the Lord, showing that love reaches maturity when it possesses without claiming ownership (cf. 1 Sam 1:27–28). Martha’s service was good, yet anxiety had quietly entered it, revealing how even ministry can become disordered when activity ceases to flow from interior communion (cf. Lk 10:38–42). Israel received manna from heaven, yet the gift itself became an occasion for dissatisfaction when desire became stronger than gratitude (cf. Ex 16:4–8; Num 11:4–6). Thus, the Divine Sculptor sometimes removes not what is sinful, but what has become possessively loved. A mother may have to release control over an adult child’s vocation while continuing to pray with deeper trust (cf. 1 Sam 1:11, 27–28); a priest may be transferred from a fruitful parish where apostolic success has quietly become part of his identity (cf. Jn 3:30); a religious sister may lose a cherished ministry through which she unknowingly received affirmation. St. John of the Cross describes this purification as a passage from created attachments toward the freedom of loving God above every created good . The deepest surrender therefore becomes: “Our Adorable Jesus, remove whatever makes me possess what You only entrusted to me.” For authentic poverty of spirit does not despise God's gifts; it receives them gratefully, holds them lightly, and returns them whenever Divine Love asks . Under the chisel, the soul gradually learns that God may sometimes remove a gift precisely to purify its capacity to love the Giver.

Yet the most astonishing connection in this Appeal is between the chisel and intercession for souls. Jesus first asks, “Bring Me more souls in your prayers,” and then immediately asks the soul to surrender itself to His shaping. This suggests a profound mystery: the intercessor must become capable of carrying the souls for whom he prays. Moses(cf. Ex 32:30–35) descended from Sinai carrying the burden of a people who had grievously sinned . He did not merely ask God to change Israel; he placed himself between divine justice and human rebellion. Daniel confessed the sins of his people in a prayer in which he identified himself with their need for mercy (cf. Dan 9:3–19). Nehemiah wept,(cf. Neh 1:3–11; 2:11–18) fasted and prayed before rebuilding Jerusalem, allowing another people's ruin to become a wound in his own heart . The Shunammite woman is another extraordinary image: when her child dies,(cf. 2 Kgs 4:18–37) she carries the crisis toward the prophet rather than surrendering to despair . Intercession enlarges the heart, and an enlarged heart becomes painful to selfishness. A grandmother kneeling for a grandchild imprisoned by addiction may discover that, while she asks for his freedom, Our Adorable Jesus is chiselling anxiety into trust (cf. Phil 4:6–7; 1 Pet 5:7). A husband interceding for a wounded wife may realise that the healing he seeks must first pass through the death of his own defensiveness and the purification of his love . A priest praying for a hostile parishioner may be invited to surrender the desire to be vindicated and learn the mercy of Christ who intercedes even for those who reject Him . A religious praying for persecuted Christians may encounter a neglected refugee outside the convent and discover that authentic intercession sometimes brings the suffering prayed for directly beneath one's feet . A doctor praying beside a dying patient may discover that when medicine can no longer cure, presence itself can become a profound ministry of compassion . The Catechism(cf. CCC 2634–2636) presents intercession as conformity to Christ's own prayer for humanity . Thus, the soul that repeatedly carries others before God gradually discovers a mysterious reversal: while it thinks it is bringing others to Christ, Christ is bringing their wounds into the soul so that He may enlarge its capacity to love. Sometimes we pray for another person's conversion while Our Adorable Jesus is quietly using that person's name to convert something within us (cf. 2 Cor 5:17; Phil 1:6).

There is a hidden school within the chisel: God sometimes permits the soul to lose the consoling awareness of His touch so that it may learn to recognise not merely His gifts, but His Person. Our Adorable Jesus can be more deeply present in a season when He seems concealed than in a season when His nearness is emotionally unmistakable . Jacob discovered this mystery when his night of struggle became a place of encounter and blessing; he emerged wounded, yet mysteriously transformed (cf. Gen 32:24–30). Joseph could not see God's providence while descending into betrayal,(cf. Gen 37:18–28; 39:20–23; 50:19–20) slavery, and imprisonment, yet later understood that grace had been secretly guiding the entire path . The three young men did not meet God by avoiding the furnace,(cf. Dan 3:19–25, 49–50) but by discovering His mysterious companionship within it . Ruth(cf. Ruth 2:2–12; 4:13–17; Mt 1:5) likewise encountered providence through ordinary fidelity, gleaning in another person's field without knowing that her hidden obedience was being woven into the lineage of the Messiah . Thus, the chisel can purify the soul's spiritual eyesight: it teaches us to seek Christ beneath disappointment, delay, correction, obscurity, unanswered prayer, and sacrifices whose fruit we cannot yet see . Gradually, the soul begins to recognise Him in the person who tests its charity, the duty that interrupts its plans, the correction that dismantles pride, the Eucharistic silence that seems empty, and the suffering that drives it into deeper surrender . This is the contemplative revolution: Christ is not absent merely because He is not felt; He may be hidden precisely because He is teaching the soul to love beyond feeling .St. Elizabeth of the Trinity contemplated the indwelling God within the soul, while St. Brother Lawrence discovered continual communion with Him through the simplest duties. Their spirituality reveals that holiness is not confined to extraordinary experiences, but grows through loving attentiveness to God's presence in ordinary life . Their spirituality teaches that holiness is not confined to remarkable experiences, but evolves through loving sensitivity to God's presence in regular life .  Consolation is not the only language of the Divine Sculptor. Silence speaks, delay speaks, loss speaks, correction speaks, and perseverance speaks . When the soul becomes recollected, it begins to hear beneath them one mysterious invitation: “Let Me make you like My Son.” . Even though the chisel hurts, Divine Love is moulding Christ inside of us with each stroke.

The final mystery is that the finished sculpture is meant for souls. Jesus does not say merely that He wants to make the individual beautiful; He speaks of “doing the good I want to souls.” Divine craftsmanship therefore has an apostolic destination. Ananias was himself an ordinary disciple, yet his obedience became part of Saul's transformation into Paul (cf. Acts 9:10–19). The anonymous servant girl captured in Naaman's household possessed neither rank nor freedom, yet one small act of witness helped direct a powerful man toward the God of Israel (cf. 2 Kgs 5:1–4). Onesimus's transformed life shows how the Gospel can enter a damaged relationship and create the possibility of reconciliation (cf. Philem 8–21). Barnabas used his reputation to make room for someone others distrusted, helping Paul enter the apostolic community (cf. Acts 9:26–27). These are astonishing biblical pictures of secondary instruments in God's hidden providence. A parish secretary who receives a despairing stranger with dignity may become the final human sign preventing that soul from abandoning the Church (cf. Mt 25:35–40; Rom 12:10). A teacher who notices the silent child at the back of the classroom may awaken a vocation hidden beneath discouragement . A nurse who silently prays while caring for an unconscious patient performs an apostolate known perhaps only to God . A mechanic who refuses to falsify a safety inspection may protect lives he will never meet . A seminarian who receives correction without resentment may be allowing Christ to purify the future priest who will one day carry wounded consciences toward mercy . A grandmother confined to bed may transform weakness into an unseen sanctuary, offering her limitations for priests, marriages, families, and young people . St. Maximilian Kolbe reveals how complete self-surrender can culminate in extraordinary charity, while St. Marianna Cope manifests how prolonged hidden service can itself become evangelisation through merciful presence . The chisel, therefore, is preparing the soul for a mission whose dimensions it cannot yet perceive. The deepest surrender is not passive resignation but active availability: “Our Adorable Jesus, carve away whatever prevents You from loving through me.” Then suffering acquires mission, prayer acquires names, virtue acquires apostolic power, and ordinary duties become offerings . The soul finally understands why Christ permits it to remain beneath the strokes: He is not merely forming something beautiful for Himself; He is preparing a life through which other souls may encounter Him .

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, place us beneath Your loving chisel and remove whatever obscures Your likeness within us . Shape our wounds, weaknesses, desires, and gifts for the salvation of souls . Teach us to welcome every stroke with trust, becoming instruments of Your mercy, holiness, and love . Amen. 

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

Divine Appeal 190

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME 1

“For the few who care for Me, I bless and lead them always in the state of Grace.”

“Listen, My daughter, pray and bring Me souls. I thirst. I saved the world through My death on the Cross. My Face was covered with tears and blood. In the midst of My suffering I was racked by a most violent thirst. It was a more burning thirst for the salvation of mankind. I died in the deepest affliction without any relief so that all human race may have eternal life. What a pain that souls are falling into perdition and My Blood is now in vain for them!

The souls I love so much do not know to what extent. With My tears of blood I call each and every soul to My Kingdom which I have given by My great love. Assure souls that time is approaching when all that is evil will be abolished and everlasting justice will take place.

In the Sacrament of My Love, I stand in the midst of mankind calling and forgiving. The souls close to Me have whipped and denied My Presence.

Bring Me more souls in your prayers. Many times. I give you keen pleasure so that as it fills your heart with love you may recognise Me. I call you to leave yourself to the strokes of the chisel. I love you to the point of doing the good I want to souls.

Do not grow weary of praying and calling souls. I ask you to be attentive to Me. For the few who care for Me I bless and lead them always in the state of grace.

27th July 1988

Copyright © 2015 The Late Bishop Cornelius K. Arap Korir | Catholic Diocese of Eldoret, Kenya. All rights reserved. Reproduced by adivineappeal.com from "On the Eucharist: A Divine Appeal" (Vol. 1).

Souls in Perdition Amid Day-and-Night Call

Divine Appeal Reflection - 189

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 189:  "I cannot stand day and night calling and every minute seeing souls running and falling into perdition. My precious Life and Blood is now in vain for these particular souls."

“I cannot stand day and night calling.” These words unveil something almost unbearable to contemplate: beneath the noise of human history, Christ is continually seeking the human heart. The world hears elections, machines, traffic, conversations, music and countless human voices; yet beneath them all there is another Voice, quiet but relentless, (cf. Jn 10:27–28; Heb 3:7–8) summoning the soul toward its eternal destiny . The wonder is that Divine Love continues calling even when the human response has become delayed, distracted or deliberately resistant. Samuel slept while the lamp of God was still burning,(cf. 1 Sam 3:1–10) and the divine summons entered his ordinary night before he understood whose voice was calling him . Elijah,(cf. 1 Kgs 19:4–18) exhausted beneath the broom tree, imagined that his journey had reached its end, yet God was already preparing another encounter through silence, tenderness and renewed mission . Even Balaam,(cf. Num 22:21–35) whose spiritual perception had become distorted, was stopped through the astonishing intervention of an animal when he could not perceive the danger before him . Divine Providence can therefore hide a summons inside what appears to be an interruption: an uneasy conscience, an unexpected conversation, a Scripture passage that suddenly exposes the heart, a failure that destroys self-reliance, a child's innocent question, a priest's gentle challenge, or even the forgiveness of someone whom we expected to hate . The surgeon who discovers that professional success has replaced prayer, the farmer whose resentment toward a neighbour has entered his evening prayers, the lecturer who realises that intellectual authority has become humiliation of weaker minds, or the religious who discovers that apostolic activity has displaced intimacy with Christ may all be standing before the same hidden invitation:(cf. Rev 3:19–20) “Come back to Me.” . The tragedy is therefore not that God stops calling. It is that the soul can become so accustomed to being called that it eventually hears the Voice without allowing the Voice to disturb its chosen direction.

“Day and night” opens another chamber of the Appeal. Jesus reveals that no part of our existence lies beyond His call to conversion (cf. Mt 4:17; Acts 17:30). “Day” represents what others can see—our work, family life, ministry, friendships, decisions, public conduct and daily responsibilities, all of which He desires to transform from within (cf. Mt 5:16; Col 3:17). Night represents the hidden territory:(cf. Ps 139:1–12) memories, temptations, loneliness, imagination, wounds, secret habits, private conversations and decisions made when no human witness is present . Christ calls in both places because holiness cannot be divided into a public Christianity and a private life where another master governs. Nicodemus came to Jesus at night, carrying questions that daylight religion had not answered within him (cf. Jn 3:1–21). Jacob entered a mysterious night of struggle and emerged carrying both a wound and a blessing,(cf. Gen 32:22–31) as though his encounter with God had altered his identity . Ruth's decisive fidelity unfolded in the darkness of the threshing floor, where her future was being quietly determined (cf. Ruth 3:1–14). The shepherds encountered the glory of God during the night watch while ordinary humanity slept (cf. Lk 2:8–20). Most astonishingly, the Resurrection begins its revelation in darkness, before dawn, when Mary Magdalene approaches the tomb carrying grief and discovers that death has not spoken the final word (cf. Jn 20:1–18). The student awake with a glowing screen, the businessman disturbed by figures he knows are untrue, the mother praying beside a suffering child, the priest returning home beneath the weight of ministry, the elderly soul revisiting an old family sorrow, and the young person wondering silently why life matters—all are still encountered by the gaze of Christ (cf. Ps 139:1–12; Heb 4:13). There are no abandoned moments for the soul that belongs to Jesus. Fatigue, solitude, uncertainty, and even the darkness of night can become hidden meeting places with grace (cf. Rom 8:38–39). A delayed plan may become an occasion for surrender; an interruption may become a summons to charity; an unexpected burden may become an offering; and a restless conscience may become the first movement of repentance. What disturbs the soul is not always an enemy of peace; sometimes it is mercy refusing to allow the heart to settle comfortably in what can destroy it . Thus, an uncomfortable awakening within may be the quiet approach of Christ, turning the soul from self-deception toward truth, conversion, and the freedom of becoming what God created it to be .

Then comes the astonishing phrase: “every minute seeing souls running.” The mystical examination must descend beneath the visible surface of religious life, beyond prayers recited, Masses attended, devotions practised and ministries performed, until it reaches the secret movement of the heart. The decisive questions are not only, “What am I doing?” but, “Where is my heart travelling while I am doing these things? What is being formed in me by the choices I repeat? What desire is quietly acquiring authority over my freedom? What do I secretly love enough to protect even when Christ asks me to surrender it?” (cf. Mt 6:21; Rom 6:16; Jas 1:14–15). He sees the direction before the destination, the inclination before the collapse, the first consent before the established habit . He saw the seed of betrayal forming in Judas before the kiss in Gethsemane;(cf. Jn 13:21–30; Lk 22:31–34) He saw Peter's approaching denial before Peter himself understood the weakness of his confidence . Yet this divine seeing is not merely surveillance—it is mercy. Christ calls while there is still time to turn. The warning itself becomes an act of compassion because God reveals the road not to condemn the traveller but to invite him to change direction . Every disturbance of conscience, every holy discomfort, every moment when Scripture(cf. Heb 12:5–11) suddenly exposes us, every unexpected correction, every failure that reveals our pride, may be a mercy standing at the crossroads of the soul . The deepest mystical question, therefore, is not simply whether I have fallen, but “In what direction am I walking?” Zacchaeus' change of direction became visible when grace reached his relationship with possessions and injustice (cf. Lk 19:1–10). Mary Magdalene's encounter with the risen Christ transformed not merely an emotion but the entire orientation of her life toward announcing Him (cf. Jn 20:16–18). Thus the soul should ask each evening before God: “Jesus, if my repeated choices continue in their present direction, where will they eventually lead me?” (cf. Gal 6:7–8).And perhaps the most consoling mystery is this: the fact that Christ is showing us our direction means that He is still calling us to turn.  Grace often comes as an interruption to our direction.  A painful truth can become a turning. Forgiving someone can become a turning. Returning to prayer can become a turning. Heaven may begin quietly at the moment the heart changes direction. The soul does not have to understand the entire road; it must simply stop walking away from Love and turn again toward the One who has never stopped calling .

“Running and falling” reveals something even more serious: movement away from God can eventually become a collapse of spiritual freedom. Samson did not lose everything in one isolated moment. His story unfolds through repeated approaches to danger, repeated compromises and an increasing blindness to the seriousness of what he was surrendering (cf. Judg 14:1–3; 16:4–21). His physical blindness becomes a powerful biblical image of what habitual sin can do to interior perception: what the soul repeatedly tolerates can eventually become what it no longer clearly recognises as dangerous (cf. CCC 1863–1865). A conscience ignored repeatedly becomes less sensitive. A lie defended repeatedly becomes easier to speak. An impure attachment protected repeatedly begins to appear like love. Resentment fed repeatedly begins to feel like justice. Dishonesty practised repeatedly becomes “how business works.” Yet Scripture also refuses to tell us that failure necessarily has the final word. Manasseh's extraordinary conversion(cf. 2 Chr 33:1–16) demonstrates that even after catastrophic sin, humiliation can become the doorway through which grace enters again . Peter's restoration after denial reveals the same mystery in another form: Christ does not pretend that betrayal never happened, but He can transform a fallen disciple into a shepherd through repentance and renewed love . This radically changes apostolic charity. A family dealing with addiction must combine prayer with truth, boundaries and appropriate professional help. A teacher correcting a student must distinguish the student's wrongdoing from the student's dignity as a person created for God . A priest hearing a repeated confession must neither trivialise sin nor treat the penitent as hopeless . A prison chaplain may continue to accompany someone society has discarded while still insisting upon responsibility and conversion.  Mercy does not deny the fall; mercy stands beside the fallen person and points toward the possibility of rising again .

The deepest meaning of “falling into perdition” is not merely fear of punishment; it is the tragedy of a creature progressively refusing the communion for which God created it. The Church teaches that God wills the salvation of all and that no person is predestined to condemnation, while also teaching the terrible reality that definitive separation from God can arise from a free and deliberate rejection of Him . Therefore, this Appeal should never make us presume that any particular soul is damned. Instead, it should place within us the urgency of eternity while conversion is still possible. Consider Abishai, who saw Saul as an enemy who could be eliminated, while David refused to make vengeance his authority and entrusted judgment to God (cf. 1 Sam 26:7–12). This gives the apostolic soul a completely different vision of those who are spiritually endangered. The addict is not merely an addict. The corrupt colleague is not merely a corrupt colleague. The difficult parishioner is not merely a nuisance. The immoral young person is not merely a scandal. The imprisoned person is not merely a criminal. The estranged relative is not merely an enemy. Each is a soul standing before eternity. Onesimus, whose relationship with Philemon had been deeply damaged, becomes an extraordinary example of how the Gospel can transform a relationship that once seemed irreparably fractured (cf. Phlm 8–21). A magistrate may therefore refuse a bribe when accepting it would injure the vulnerable (cf. Ex 23:8). A nurse may preserve the dignity of an unconscious patient whom nobody else visits . An engineer may reject a lucrative project because its unsafe design would endanger workers. A young Catholic may accompany a friend trapped in pornography without participating in the behaviour or treating the person with contempt .  St Monica's persevering prayer for Augustine remains a luminous example of love refusing to surrender hope when conversion appears painfully distant (cf. CCC 2687). This is where the Appeal becomes apostolic: Christ's anguish over souls must become our intercession for souls.

“My precious Life and Blood is now in vain for these particular souls.” This final sentence enters the deepest Eucharistic chamber of the Appeal. Christ's sacrifice is never deficient; His Blood possesses infinite saving value (cf. Heb 9:11–14; CCC 613–614). Therefore, the phrase must be understood as the tragic fruitlessness of grace when a person freely refuses to receive and cooperate with it, not as a defect in the power of Christ's Redemption. The Crucified and Risen Lord has opened the fountain of mercy,(cf. Jn 1:11–12; Rev 3:20) but He does not abolish human freedom . Here lies an almost unbearable paradox: Infinite Love can offer itself without limit while a finite creature can refuse that Love. Judas was near the Eucharistic mystery and still permitted betrayal to mature within him (cf. Jn 13:1–30). The rich young man (cf. Mk 10:17–22) stood before Christ Himself and went away sorrowful because another attachment held his freedom more strongly .   The priest must ask whether he offers Christ not merely through his hands but through his heart. The consecrated soul must ask whether Eucharistic intimacy has produced obedience and charity. The married couple must ask whether Communion is entering their forgiveness, finances, speech, sexuality and family life . The parent must ask whether the child encounters Christ through the parent's patience. The young person must ask what he does with Christ when nobody is watching. The professional must ask whether the Eucharist governs Monday's ethical decisions. The elderly person confined to bed may unite weakness with Christ's sacrifice and become a hidden intercessor for souls (cf. Col 1:24). Before the tabernacle, therefore, the question becomes terrifyingly personal: “Jesus, where is Your grace still knocking at the door of my freedom?” (cf. Rev 3:20). The greatest response to the Appeal is not merely to feel sorrow because souls are falling. It is to become available to the grace by which Christ seeks to reach them. Maybe one discussion will keep a hopeless person from giving up. Maybe one confession will make someone feel better. Maybe one Rosary will help a dying sinner find forgiveness. Maybe a single act of forgiveness will stop hatred from being passed down to future generations.  Perhaps one Eucharistic Holy Hour offered in silence will become part of a grace whose earthly history we will never know. The mystery is that Jesus continues calling through human hearts that have learned to hear Him. He calls through prayer, sacrifice, fidelity, truth, forgiveness, Eucharistic adoration, priestly ministry, consecrated love, parental patience, hidden suffering and ordinary holiness (cf. Mt 5:13–16; CCC 863). Thus the final question of the Appeal is not merely, “Why are souls falling?” It is more piercing: “Because Jesus is still calling, will I allow Him to call through me?”

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, awaken us to Your unceasing call. Let Your sorrow for souls become our compassion, prayer and sacrifice. Keep us faithful when others fall, courageous when consciences resist, and tender toward those who wander. May no grace You entrust to us remain fruitless, but become through our lives a path by which souls return to You. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 189

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME 1

“I give My Merciful warnings Myself and through My Most Holy Mother.”

“Listen, My daughter, pray a great deal... heap cruel affronts on Me. More than ever I am very much blasphemed.

I have no shelter. I cannot stand day and night calling and every minute seeing souls running and falling into perdition. My precious Life and Blood is now in vain for these particular souls. Time is short and souls are eternally lost. With love I call souls into streams of My Mercy. Time is approaching when I will no longer hold the hands of My Eternal Father. My Mercy will be followed by warnings to mankind. I give My Merciful warnings Myself and through My Most Holy Mother.

... have refused and abused My Divine Power. They only accept in order to destroy My Church. They have united with satan who tells them that I do not exist. In due time they will receive their sentence. In the Sacrament of My Love, I represent Myself completely in the form of a banquet. In each particle of the Blessed Host I am very present just as I am at the right hand of the Eternal Father. I leave Myself in this mystery in order to give souls a good and blessed chance to practice true faith so that souls may know My mysteries so stupendous! It is my great love for mankind that keeps Me in this form and exposed to all humiliations.

As I am exposed I will pour the treasures of My infinite Mercy into human souls.”

26th July 1988

Copyright © 2015 The Late Bishop Cornelius K. Arap Korir | Catholic Diocese of Eldoret, Kenya. All rights reserved. Reproduced by adivineappeal.com from "On the Eucharist: A Divine Appeal" (Vol. 1).

Love Uniting Itself to the Object It Loves

Divine Appeal Reflection - 188

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 188: "My love cannot be overcome by any obstacle. I was conceived by love so that mankind may prepare themselves for great mysteries. I love mankind so much and this gives Me great joy to stay among mankind under the form of food. I willed that upon earth souls may share in My sacramental life where I dispose Myself and remain day and night in the prison of My tabernacle. I love mankind so much. I need them to know that love does not rest until it has given and united itself to the object it loves."

“I love mankind so much.” These words reveal not merely the intensity of Christ’s affection, but the astonishing mystery that humanity has become the object toward which Divine Love continually moves. Our Adorable Jesus reveals a Love that cannot remain distant from what it loves. It does not wait for the beloved to become worthy before drawing near; its very nature is to seek, descend, restore, and unite . Scripture repeatedly unveils this divine movement: God searches for Adam when sin has hidden him, pursues Israel through repeated infidelity, encounters Jonah in the depths of his flight, restores Peter after his denial, and welcomes the prodigal when he finally turns toward home . In each scene, the initiative comes from Love:(cf. Jer 31:3; Rom 5:8; CCC 218–221) God moves toward the one who has wandered, because distance from Him does not extinguish His desire for communion . Calvary(cf. Rom 5:6–8) then reveals a Love that allows itself to be wounded rather than withdraw from the one who wounds it . The Incarnation reveals the mystery in its fullness:(cf. Jn 1:14; Phil 2:6–8) God does not merely speak about His love from heaven but enters human existence, assuming our nature and accepting the poverty of Bethlehem, the hiddenness of Nazareth, and the vulnerability of human life . Yet the Eucharist carries this mystery even further: the Love that came near refuses to become distant again. Christ remains sacramentally present, continually offering Himself and drawing humanity into His own communion . Thus, when Our Adorable Jesus reveals, “I love mankind so much,” He unveils not merely the intensity of His affection but the unceasing movement of His Heart toward union.  Divine Love does not remain because the beloved has become lovable; it remains because Love has chosen the beloved and refuses to abandon its desire to unite itself with him .

The words “I need them to know” enter an even more hidden chamber of the mystery. Why would Divine Love desire to be known? Because being loved without recognizing that one is loved leaves the heart capable of living as though it were abandoned. The father may provide everything for his child, yet the child may still believe himself unwanted. Likewise, humanity can live every moment within divine providence while failing to recognize the Presence sustaining it (cf. Acts 17:27–28). Revelation is therefore not merely information about God; it is an act by which Divine Love awakens the beloved to the Love already surrounding him. Zacchaeus(cf. Lk 19:1–10) discovers that Jesus has sought him personally . The Samaritan woman(cf. Jn 4:7–26) gradually realizes that the Stranger beside the well knows the thirst hidden beneath her life . The disciples at Emmaus(cf. Lk 24:13–35) discover that the One they thought absent had been walking with them through their disappointment . Here lies a profound apostolic mystery: the Christian does not create God's love for another person; he helps another person recognize the Love that has already been pursuing him. This changes the meaning of evangelization. Evangelisation involves more than just talking about Christ ; it entails enabling His presence to be identified through a Christian's lifestyle. The Christian then becomes more than a messenger carrying words about Divine Love; his or her life becomes a living testimony through which another person can begin to recognize the Love being proclaimed .Divine Love wants to be accepted so thoroughly that it gradually changes how the soul sees, reacts, and loves until self-giving reveals the hidden God that resides within, mercy reflects Christ's mercy, tenderness reveals His tenderness, and patience bears the character of Christ's patience. Love seeks to be recognized because recognition can awaken trust, and trust gradually opens the heart to surrender . When a wounded soul begins to discover that God has remained present even where it felt forgotten, suffering is no longer interpreted only as abandonment, failure no longer appears to be the end, vocation becomes a response rather than merely a burden, and even wounds can become places where grace is encountered and received .

The deeper wonder is that Divine Love does not merely seek union; it waits for the heart to become capable of receiving it. In the Eucharist, Christ remains exposed to human freedom—adorable, approachable, yet never forcing Himself upon a soul . Bethlehem reveals Love accepting littleness (cf. Lk 2:6–7); Nazareth reveals Love accepting obscurity; Calvary reveals Love accepting rejection without withdrawing its mercy ; the Resurrection reveals Love creating new beginnings from apparent defeat ; and Pentecost reveals Love turning fearful hearts into courageous witnesses . The Eucharist therefore does something mysterious within humanity: it teaches the soul to desire what Divine Love desires—not merely to possess Christ, but to surrender itself to Him . Even the tabernacle becomes a school of divine patience: Christ remains when souls hurry past, waits when hearts forget, and offers His presence without demanding recognition . His hiddenness is not absence; it is Love giving the soul the freedom to seek Him. The mystery becomes personal when Christ desires to reproduce His own manner of loving within the soul that receives Him . The Eucharist therefore exposes the contradiction of receiving Love while deliberately refusing to give ourselves. A Christian may receive Communion while withholding forgiveness, adore Christ while exploiting another person, pray for holiness while protecting vanity,(cf. Jas 1:22–24; 1 Jn 4:20–21) or speak beautifully about charity while remaining impatient with those at home . Authentic Eucharistic communion gradually breaks this contradiction,(cf. Jn 13:14–15; CCC 1397) teaching the heart that the Christ received at the altar must become recognizable in the way one treats others . The farmer who quietly shares part of his harvest with a struggling neighbour, the employer who refuses to profit from another’s desperation, the student who chooses honesty when cheating would guarantee success, or the exhausted mother who continues serving without recognition can become Eucharistic signs within ordinary life . Through such hidden acts, Christ’s self-giving begins to take human form. He gives Himself to us so that our existence may gradually acquire the grammar of His love: receiving without possessing selfishly, suffering without bitterness, serving without demanding recognition, forgiving without keeping accounts, and giving without constantly asking what will return to us . Communion is therefore not simply Christ entering our bodies; it is Christ teaching our entire existence how to become an offering of love .

But the Appeal reaches its most mysterious point in the words “and united itself to the object it loves.” Giving is not the final desire of Divine Love. Union is. A person may give a gift without giving himself. One may give money, advice, time, medicine, food, or assistance while remaining inwardly distant. Christ's Love goes infinitely further: He gives Himself so that the beloved may live in communion with Him (cf. Jn 6:51–56; 15:1–5). This is why the Eucharist is such an unfathomable mystery. Under the sacramental signs, the Creator gives Himself to the creature, not merely to assist the creature but to draw the creature into communion with divine life . The vine and branches reveal this more deeply than ordinary friendship: the branch does not merely receive something from the vine; it lives from the vine (cf. Jn 15:4–5). Paul's mystical language reaches the same mystery when he speaks of Christ living in him (cf. Gal 2:20). Here the soul encounters a frighteningly beautiful question: What part of me have I allowed Christ to love without allowing Him to possess? Perhaps the wounded memory that must remain unforgiven. Perhaps the ambition that must remain untouched. Perhaps the desire for admiration. Perhaps money. Perhaps sexuality. Perhaps a relationship that God is asking the soul to surrender. Perhaps the secret need to control how others perceive us. Divine Love does not seek one compartment of the personality; (cf. Mk 12:29–30) it seeks the whole person .  The mystery is therefore not simply that Christ wants to be near us. He wants every interior resistance to communion to become transparent to His Love. The tabernacle then becomes a mirror: Christ has surrendered Himself without reserve. What remains reserved in us?

The final mystery is that Divine Love's union with the beloved is never sterile. Christ unites Himself to the soul so profoundly that the soul can become an instrument through which His Love reaches others. The disciples(cf. Acts 1:8) encounter the risen Christ and are sent as witnesses . The first Christians reveal the fruit of communion with Christ:(cf. Acts 2:42–47; 4:32–35) generosity, prayer, unity, shared life, and care for the poor . Mary receives the Word and immediately carries Him to Elizabeth,(cf. Lk 1:39–45) showing that genuine encounter with God naturally becomes a movement toward others . Eucharistic devotion therefore cannot end at the chapel door; what is received must become visible in daily love . Divine Love follows a sacred movement: Love seeks → reveals → gives → unites → transforms → sends. The married couple must allow Christ’s sacrificial love to enter their disagreements, the doctor must unite compassion with clinical skill, the teacher must join knowledge with patience, and the employer must allow justice to govern authority (cf. Eph 5:25–33; Lk 10:30–37; Jas 2:1–9). Thus, the Christ received in the Eucharist gradually becomes recognizable through the life of the one who receives Him . The religious must allow hidden prayer to become hidden service. The young person must carry Eucharistic reverence into the digital world where another person's dignity can so easily be destroyed. The elderly person confined to a room can still participate profoundly in this movement through intercession and offered suffering (cf. Col 1:24; CCC 1508). Here lies the extraordinary apostolic secret of the Appeal: Christ's Love does not rest when it has reached us; it continues moving through us. He desires not merely that we become people who have received Love, but people through whom another soul may discover that Love has not abandoned it. The soul becomes, in a mysterious way, an extension of the Eucharistic movement—Christ giving Himself through one life so that another life may be drawn toward communion. Divine Love invites humanity to enter the communion for which Christ prayed: that those who receive Him may be pulled into the unity of divine life . In order for the soul to gradually change into the likeness of the One it receives, love first seeks the beloved, then displays itself so that the beloved may recognise it, gives itself so that the beloved may receive it, then connects itself to the beloved. Then the transformed soul itself becomes a place where Divine Love can be encountered by others . The movement is therefore profoundly Eucharistic: Christ seeks, reveals, gives, unites, transforms, and sends. Divine Love rests only when the soul freely opens itself to this communion, allowing every barrier of fear, selfishness, sin, and resistance to be surrendered so that nothing remains between the Lover and the beloved except the freedom of a heart wholly given to God .

Prayer

O Our Adorable Jesus, let us understand the Love that never rests. Reveal to us that we are sought, loved, given Yourself, and invited into union. Remove whatever separates us from You. Make our hearts living tabernacles through which Your Love reaches wounded souls, until our entire existence becomes communion, offering, and apostolic love. Amen.

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

More Prayer for Invigorating Souls

Divine Appeal Reflection - 188

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 188: "Pray more that souls may be invigorated with the love of My Heart."

There is a hidden mystery in “invigorated”: Our Adorable Jesus is not simply asking weakened souls to try harder, but inviting what has grown faint within them to receive fresh life (cf. Is 40:29–31; Ps 42:5). A priest may continue offering Mass while carrying silent exhaustion; a mother may serve faithfully while inwardly losing courage; a religious may maintain every observance while prayer becomes dry; a young person may kneel before the Blessed Sacrament while secretly believing holiness is beyond reach (cf. Mt 11:28–30; 1 Kgs 19:4–8; Rev 2:2–5). Outward fidelity can sometimes conceal an interior flame that is slowly fading. Christ therefore calls the soul not merely to greater effort, but back to the Source of its life (cf. Jn 15:4–5). Elijah reached such a threshold after Carmel. The prophet who had stood before fire from heaven eventually collapsed beneath an ordinary tree, (cf. 1 Kings 18:36-39; 19:1-13) and God met him first through tenderness before leading him deeper into silence . At Emmaus, the disciples were not without religious knowledge; they were without interior fire. Their eyes were unable to recognize Christ until His presence gradually transformed their despair . This reveals a profound apostolic principle: some souls do not need more information about God; they need an encounter with the God they already know about. The Catechism (CCC 2565) describes prayer as living communion with the Trinity . Therefore intercessory prayer becomes a hidden place where Christ can reach a soul beyond the limitations of our words. Saint Elizabeth of the Trinity perceived the soul as a sanctuary of the Divine Presence. The soul who prays for another consequently becomes, in a mysterious way, a doorway through which the forgotten fire of God may touch someone who has almost ceased expecting it.

The command “Pray more” contains another astonishing revelation: Jesus entrusts part of the spiritual welfare of souls to the hidden charity of others. This is the mystery of intercession within the Mystical Body. Moses remained between a wounded people and Divine Justice, pleading for mercy (cf. Exodus 32:30-34). Abraham stood before God carrying the fate of a city whose inhabitants did not know that someone was pleading for them (cf. Genesis 18:22-33). Job eventually prayed for the very friends who had misunderstood his suffering, and his prayer became part of his own restoration (cf. Job 42:7-10). The friends of the paralytic carried a man physically because he could not carry himself; their faith became, mysteriously, part of his encounter with Christ (cf. Mark 2:1-12). The Catechism calls intercession a prayer of petition that conforms us to Christ's own intercession (CCC 2634-2636). This means that when a mother kneels at midnight for a wayward child, she is doing more than expressing maternal concern; she is allowing her heart to participate in Christ's concern for that soul. When a priest spends his Holy Hour praying for unknown penitents, when a religious offers a Rosary for persecuted Christians, when a young person prays for a classmate who ridicules faith, when a sick person offers suffering for the conversion of sinners, a hidden exchange takes place within the Mystical Body. The soul that intercedes becomes spiritually porous to the needs of others. Saint Monica teaches the sanctity of persevering prayer, while Saint Gemma Galgani illustrates the possibility of offering prayer and suffering for souls. Perhaps the most beautiful consequence is that intercession slowly destroys spiritual isolation: another person's salvation becomes something we carry within our own prayer.

But the Appeal reaches its summit when Jesus identifies the source of this invigoration: “the love of My Heart.” He does not ask us merely to transmit encouragement, human affection, optimism, or emotional consolation. He asks that souls receive something proceeding from the very Heart of the Incarnate Word. Human love can become exhausted because it frequently depends upon reciprocity. Christ's love does not. He loves the sinner before conversion, the wounded before healing, the returning child before restoration, and the disciple even after failure (cf. Romans 5:6-8; John 21:15-19). The Catechism presents the Heart of Christ as the sign and symbol of the Redeemer's love (CCC 478). The Sacred Heart therefore becomes the school in which Christian love is purified. Zacchaeus discovered that an encounter with Christ had consequences for the money he possessed (cf. Luke 19:1-10). The Samaritan woman discovered that Divine Mercy could enter the most complicated areas of her history without reducing her identity to her wounds (cf. John 4:7-30). Peter discovered that after his denial, Christ's question would lead him from shame into renewed mission (cf. John 21:15-17). This is what it means for souls to be invigorated by the Heart of Jesus: they begin to receive His way of looking at people. The nurse begins seeing the difficult patient as a person rather than an inconvenience. The teacher sees the repeatedly failing child as a soul rather than a problem. The spouse stops measuring love by emotional reward. The employer refuses to use another person's weakness for personal advantage. Saints Gertrude the Great and Mechtilde of Hackeborn, immersed in devotion to the Heart of Christ, illuminate this transformation. The true miracle of Eucharistic prayer is not merely that Christ changes the circumstances around us, but that He gradually changes the heart with which we enter those circumstances.

The word “souls” opens yet another dimension. Jesus is not asking merely that successful Christians become stronger; He is concerned with those whose interior life is barely surviving. Some souls have been weakened by years of sin. Others by grief. Others by poverty, loneliness, family conflict, persecution, rejection, migration, imprisonment, or chronic disappointment. Others have become weary through carrying responsibilities nobody sees. Scripture contains people whose spiritual strength was almost exhausted before God reopened their future. Hagar sat beneath a bush believing that the end had come, yet God saw her and opened her eyes to a well she had not perceived (cf. Genesis 21:14-19). The widow of Zarephath possessed almost nothing, yet Divine Providence entered her poverty (cf. 1 Kings 17:8-16). The woman bent over for eighteen years encountered Christ and discovered that her long captivity had not made her invisible to God (cf. Luke 13:10-13). The disciples (cf. John 20:19-22; Acts 2:1-4) hiding behind locked doors were transformed from frightened men into witnesses through the gift of the Spirit . The Catechism teaches that the Holy Spirit awakens and strengthens the theological life within us . Therefore intercession should become profoundly particular. Pray for the seminarian who secretly wonders whether he has made a mistake. Pray for the mother who smiles publicly while grieving privately. Pray for the priest whose pastoral burdens have become heavier than anyone realizes. Pray for the young person who has fallen so many times that confession itself has become frightening. Pray for the elderly person whose body has become weak but whose soul may be carrying enormous grace. Pray for the prisoner who thinks society has forgotten him. Pray for the abandoned spouse who is tempted to become permanently bitter. Christ does not despise the smallest remaining flame; He knows how to breathe upon it until it becomes a fire.

The final mystery is perhaps the most beautiful: Jesus is teaching us to become custodians of spiritual life in one another. The Christian does not live only for his own sanctification. Through Baptism, every Christian belongs to the Mystical Body, and therefore another person's weakness becomes an invitation to charity rather than an excuse for judgment . Mary at Cana teaches this hidden sensitivity:(cf. John 2:1-11) she notices what others have failed to notice and carries the need toward Jesus . The widow (cf. Mark 12:41-44) who gives her small offering reveals how heaven measures love differently from the world. Epaphras(cf. Colossians 4:12) becomes a picture of hidden apostolic labour through persistent prayer for the maturity of others . A grandmother praying every evening for descendants may be building a cathedral invisible to history. A sick person offering pain for priests may be participating in an apostolate impossible through physical activity. A worker whispering a prayer before serving a difficult customer may be sanctifying an ordinary workplace. A religious making reparation before the Blessed Sacrament may be spiritually accompanying souls she will never meet. A father refusing to answer anger with anger may interrupt an inheritance of violence. A mother blessing a sleeping child may entrust an entire future to God. In this way prayer becomes a hidden circulation of Divine Love throughout the Mystical Body. Christ's Heart becomes the source; intercessory souls become channels; weakened souls become recipients; and the final glory belongs entirely to God. This is why Jesus says “Pray more.” He is not merely asking for more words. He is asking for more room in our hearts for His own intercession. Before the tabernacle, therefore, one can silently bring souls by name: Jesus, breathe upon this vocation. Revive this marriage. Strengthen this priest. Awaken this sinner. Console this widow. Protect this child. Restore this family. Rekindle this young heart. Remember the forgotten. We may never witness the answer. But somewhere, perhaps unknown to us, a soul may suddenly find strength to resist one temptation, make one confession, forgive one person, return to one Mass, remain faithful for one more day, or choose life instead of despair. The world may never know who carried that soul to the threshold of grace. Heaven will know. And perhaps this is one of the most hidden meanings of the Divine Appeal: Jesus asks us to pray more because somewhere within His Mystical Body, another soul is waiting for the grace that our prayer may help carry to it.

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, kindle within us the fire of Your Heart and make us faithful guardians of the souls You place upon our path. Remember the weary, restore the fallen, strengthen priests, protect children, revive families, awaken sinners, console the forgotten, and let our hidden prayers become channels through which Your Divine Love reaches souls we may never know. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 188

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME 1

“My love cannot be overcome by any obstacle.” “I love mankind so much.”

“Listen, My daughter, My love cannot be overcome by any obstacle. I was conceived by love so that mankind may prepare themselves for great mysteries. I love mankind so much and this gives Me great joy to stay among mankind under the form of food. I willed that upon earth souls may share in My sacramental life where I dispose Myself and remain day and night in the prison of My tabernacle. I love mankind so much. I need them to know that love does not rest until it has given and united itself to the object it loves.

The Sacrament of My Love is a mystery which exceeds all powers. I hide my countenance so that many may have a good chance to practice faith. Assure souls that it is My great love for mankind that I expose Myself to all humanity. I call each and every soul to be united to Me in the Church and defend it at this grave moment. Pray more that souls may be invigorated with the love of My Heart.  Time is short for saving souls.”

12.00 a.m., 25th July 1988

Copyright © 2015 The Late Bishop Cornelius K. Arap Korir | Catholic Diocese of Eldoret, Kenya. All rights reserved. Reproduced by adivineappeal.com from "On the Eucharist: A Divine Appeal" (Vol. 1).