Love for Jesus Beyond Words

Divine Appeal Reflection - 81

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 81: "Many souls think that love consists in saying ‘Lord I love you’. Not this way. Love is good and it begets because I love. Keep My love in pain, in rest, in prayer, in comfort, as in distress. If souls would really understand My love they would be able to follow My path of truth and justice."

 The cry that rises from the Heart of Jesus Christ penetrates beyond devotional surface and confronts the soul at its deepest center, where illusion and truth are separated. It exposes a subtle danger: to reduce love to expression rather than transformation. Divine love is not measured by what is said but by what is surrendered, for it proceeds from the inner life of God Himself,(cf 1 Jn 4:8,16; Jn 3:16) whose very being is an eternal act of self-gift . To enter this love is to be drawn into a participation in the Paschal Mystery—where dying to self becomes the condition for authentic life . The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that charity is not one virtue among others but the form that gives life and supernatural orientation to all virtues, elevating human acts into divine communion (cf CCC 1827–1829, 1996–1997). Thus, every ordinary moment becomes charged with eternal significance: the unnoticed sacrifice, the hidden fidelity,(cf Mt 6:6; Col 3:23–24) the perseverance in dryness . This love demands embodiment. It must “beget,” as the Lord reveals—producing fruits that endure beyond emotion (cf Gal 5:22–23; Jas 2:17). Consider the silence of Saint Joseph, whose justice was not legal rigidity but docile obedience to divine will (cf Mt 1:19–24). In him, love became action without self-reference. Likewise, The Blessed Virgin Mary reveals that true love consents to God even when it pierces the heart . This incarnational dimension extends into daily realities: choosing honesty when deception would secure advantage (cf Prov 11:3), remaining faithful in commitments when feelings waver (cf Mt 24:13), forgiving when wounded (cf Mt 18:21–22), and persevering in charity amid contradiction (cf Rom 12:9–12). Love here becomes cruciform—shaped by the Cross, where mercy and justice meet in perfect unity .

The saints penetrate this mystery with luminous clarity. Saint John of the Cross teaches that love is purified in darkness, where the soul is stripped of consolations so that it may love God for Himself alone (cf Job 23:8–10). Saint Thérèse of Lisieux reveals that even the smallest acts, when infused with pure intention, participate in infinite love . Saint Paul the Apostle proclaims that without charity, even the greatest works are empty (cf 1 Cor 13:1–3), yet with it, suffering itself becomes redemptive . Thus, love matures not in emotional intensity but in fidelity across changing interior states—whether in consolation or desolation  . Here the soul stands at a decisive threshold: to remain in self-seeking affection or to enter divine charity. Sentiment must be crucified , not destroyed but transfigured, so that Christ may live and act within. This love is Eucharistic in its essence—self-giving, hidden, and real, flowing from the sacramental presence where Christ offers Himself entirely . To receive Him is to be drawn into His own movement of love toward the Father and toward souls. Thus, authentic charity becomes generative, bearing unseen fruit that endures into eternity . It transforms work into offering, suffering into intercession, and daily life into participation in divine life. In this, the soul no longer merely speaks love—it becomes love, living from God, in God, and for God alone.

To “keep My love in pain” draws the soul into the innermost mystery of Jesus Christ, where suffering is no longer meaningless but becomes a privileged place of union. Human nature instinctively resists pain, yet Christ reveals that love reaches its fullness not by escaping the Cross, but by remaining with Him upon it (cf Col 1:24; Lk 9:23). The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that when suffering is united to Christ, it participates in His redemptive work,(cf CCC 1521, 618) acquiring a mysterious fruitfulness for the salvation of souls . This transforms suffering into an interior offering—a conscious surrender of the will into the hands of the Father (cf Lk 23:46).The transformation is seen in Saint Peter, whose tears after his fall purified his love from presumption into humility (cf Lk 22:61–62; Jn 21:15–17). Likewise, in daily life, this mystery becomes concrete when one endures misunderstanding without resentment, accepts weakness without despair, or remains faithful in trials without visible consolation (cf 1 Pet 2:19–20). Saint John of the Cross teaches that such darkness purifies love of self-interest, leading the soul into a deeper,(cf Job 23:10) more authentic union with God . In the Eucharist,(cf Mt 26:26–28; CCC 1324) this mystery reaches its summit: Christ gives Himself completely under the veil of fragility . Thus the soul comes to know that love is not grounded in sentiment but in fidelity; in suffering, it is purified, becoming constant, surrendered, and perfectly aligned with the will of God.

To “keep My love in rest, in prayer, in comfort” reveals a more hidden trial, where the soul is not purified by suffering but tested by abundance. In these states, vigilance becomes essential, for consolation can subtly shift the heart from God to self. The Heart of Jesus Christ calls not only for endurance in pain but for fidelity in peace, where love risks dilution through forgetfulness. The Catechism  teaches that prayer requires constant vigilance, not only against distraction and dryness, but also against the illusion of self-sufficiency that can arise when all seems well (cf CCC 2729–2730). Consolation, if not received in humility, becomes spiritually dangerous—it can foster a quiet independence from grace. This dynamic is reflected in the life of King Solomon, whose wisdom was a divine gift, yet whose heart gradually turned when comfort weakened his vigilance . His fall reveals that gifts, when not continually referred back to God, can obscure the Giver. Thus, rest must become offering. The contemplative soul learns to receive peace, success, and interior sweetness not as possessions, but as occasions for deeper surrender (cf Deut 8:10–14). In daily life, this takes concrete form: the professional who prospers yet increases generosity (cf 2 Cor 9:6–8), the family that experiences harmony yet deepens prayer and service (cf Col 3:15–17), the individual who enjoys interior consolation yet remains humble and vigilant . The saints insist that love must be as deliberate in consolation as in suffering. Saint Teresa of Ávila teaches recollection—a continual return of the soul to God within, even amid external ease . Without this interior anchoring, comfort disperses the soul. But when rightly lived, rest becomes communion, not escape. Love is preserved when every state—activity or stillness, struggle or peace—is referred back to God as its origin and end (cf Rom 11:36). In this way, the soul remains rooted in divine love, not in passing consolation.

To “keep My love in distress” unveils the unwavering constancy demanded by authentic discipleship, where love is stripped of all supports and must stand upon God alone. In moments of distress, the soul is confronted with a decisive question: does it love God for Himself, or only for His consolations? The agony of Jesus Christ in Gethsemane reveals this mystery in its purest form—love persevering in obedience even when overwhelmed by sorrow and apparent abandonment . The Catechism (cf CCC 2734–2735) teaches that prayer in such trials becomes a true spiritual combat, requiring perseverance, vigilance, and radical trust in the Father’s fidelity . Job stands as a profound witness to this purified love, remaining oriented toward God even when deprived of understanding, security, and consolation . His fidelity reveals that love, when rooted in truth, does not depend on circumstances. In contemporary life, distress takes many forms: financial instability that threatens peace , relational wounds that test forgiveness (cf Eph 4:31–32), or interior desolation where God seems silent (cf Ps 22:1). In these moments, love must become an act of the will—choosing God in darkness, adhering to Him beyond feeling . This fidelity is profoundly apostolic. The parent who continues to intercede for a distant child , the worker who remains just despite loss (cf Prov 10:9), the consecrated soul who perseveres in dryness (cf Gal 6:9)—all participate in the steadfast love of Christ toward the Father. Mystically, this is union with the Crucified, where love becomes silent, hidden, and real . Philosophically, it manifests the primacy of the will anchored in truth over fluctuating emotion. Thus, in distress, the soul learns that love is not possession but surrender, not clarity but trust, not ease but fidelity that endures unto the end .

The Lord’s call to follow “My path of truth and justice” unveils a demanding synthesis at the heart of divine love: it is never detached from moral reality, never reduced to sentiment or personal preference. In Jesus Christ, love is inseparably united to truth,(cf Jn 14:6; Mic 6:8) and truth is always expressed through justice . This means that authentic charity does not merely affirm; it orders, corrects, and elevates. The Catechism (cf CCC 1928–1930, 1822) teaches that respect for the human person flows from justice and is animated by charity, which binds individuals to the moral law and to one another in dignity . Thus, love that ignores truth becomes illusion, and truth without love becomes harshness; in Christ, both are perfectly united. This unity is revealed in His encounter with the sinner: He does not condemn, yet He commands transformation . Love, therefore, is not permissive—it is redemptive. The life of King David manifests this drama: his fall into injustice is met not with abandonment,(cf 2 Sam 12:13; Ps 51:12) but with a call to repentance that restores him to truth . In daily life, this path demands moral courage: to speak truth in environments shaped by compromise (cf Eph 4:15), to defend the vulnerable when silence is easier (cf Prov 31:8–9), and to reject dishonesty even when it entails loss . Such choices reveal that love is not abstract but incarnate in decisions. Eucharistically, this path is sustained by communion with Christ, who gives Himself as Truth made present and received . The saints insist that holiness is not an idea but a concrete conformity to divine order. Thus, every vocation becomes apostolic: the teacher forms consciences in truth (cf Deut 6:6–7), the professional upholds justice with integrity (cf Col 3:23), the parent cultivates virtue through discipline and love . In this way, love becomes transformative—quietly shaping the world according to God’s truth and establishing His justice in the hidden fabric of daily life .

Prayer 

O Adorable Jesus, consume all that is not You within us. Establish Your love in our souls through every state of life. May we live no longer for ourselves, but in Your truth and justice, becoming a silent witness of Your divine life in the world. Amen.

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