Considering Jesus, Receiving His Grace

Divine Appeal Reflection - 183

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 183:  "Consider Me. Open your heart to receive My graces in order that you may get more strength to bring souls to Me. "

“Consider Me” may be one of the most penetrating invitations in the entire Appeal because Jesus does not begin by asking for activity. He asks for attention to His Person. Before the soul carries His message, it must become captivated by His presence; before it attempts to change others, it must allow itself to be gazed upon and changed by Him. To consider Jesus is to place Him at the centre of interpretation:(cf. Heb 12:2–3; 2 Cor 5:14–15) His wounds interpret suffering, His silence interprets abandonment, His mercy interprets failure, His Cross interprets sacrifice, and His Resurrection interprets hope . The disciples on the road to Emmaus possessed Scripture,(cf. Lk 24:25–32) memories and disappointment, yet their hearts began burning only when Christ Himself entered their darkness and interpreted everything around Him . Mary Magdalene illustrates another depth: she remained near the tomb when others had departed,(cf. Jn 20:11–18) and precisely within that fidelity she encountered the Risen Lord . There is therefore a mystical discipline hidden in “Consider Me”: do not allow the event to become greater than the Person.  A father discovers his son has secretly failed in something important and, before reacting, pauses to imitate Christ’s patience and mercy (cf. Lk 15:20–24; Col 3:12–13). A doctor receives an angry complaint from a patient’s family and silently remembers Jesus who endured unjust accusation without hatred (cf. 1 Pet 2:23; Isa 53:7). A priest hears the same confession again and recalls the Shepherd who patiently seeks the wandering sheep (cf. Lk 15:4–7; Jn 10:11). A young woman is publicly shamed online and, before responding, looks toward Christ who entrusted His cause to the Father rather than retaliating . A businessman loses a contract through another person's dishonesty; before allowing bitterness to govern him, he considers Calvary. Such moments are hidden chapels. The Catechism(cf. CCC 2715) calls contemplation a gaze fixed upon Jesus . Thus the first apostolate of the soul is not speaking about Christ—it is learning to look at Christ until His way of seeing becomes our own.

“Open your heart to receive My graces” then reveals the extraordinary vulnerability required of a soul that wants to become apostolic. God can pour without measure, yet the human heart can remain strangely closed. The tragedy is not that grace is scarce; it is that the soul may become skilled at protecting itself from the very grace it requests. Naaman initially resisted the simplicity of the prophet's instruction because his pride expected something more dramatic; healing began when he surrendered his preferred method and entered the Jordan (cf. 2 Kgs 5:9–14). Peter similarly resisted the vision of the sheet because grace was asking him to cross a boundary his religious imagination had considered fixed (cf. Acts 10:9–20, 34–35). Ananias(cf. Acts 9:10–19) had to open his heart to the terrifying possibility that the persecutor Saul could become his brother . Grace frequently arrives carrying something we would not have ordered. A parishioner asks forgiveness from someone who has never apologised first.A religious sister is sent to an apostolate she considers unimportant; a father discovers that his adult child no longer needs advice but the safety of being heard; an accountant is required to expose wrongdoing by a respected superior; a young man recognizes that a cherished friendship repeatedly draws him toward sin; a widow discovers that loneliness can become a hidden sanctuary of intercession . These are not merely disturbances to spiritual life; they may be the very thresholds through which grace enters. St. Gertrude the Great’s Eucharistic devotion and St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross’s profound surrender illuminate this receptive mystery: holiness grows not by controlling grace, (cf. Jn 15:4–5; Rom 12:1–2) but by yielding the interior freedom to God . Grace is God’s free participation in His divine life, entirely undeserved and freely given . Yet the soul must cooperate with this gift (cf. CCC 2002). Sometimes that cooperation becomes one costly prayer: “Jesus, I surrender my expectations; let Your grace take whatever form You desire.”

“Receive My graces in order that you may get more strength” contains a profound apostolic paradox: Jesus gives strength before He gives the assignment for which that strength will be needed. Often we discover only afterwards why a particular suffering, discipline, prayer or humiliation was permitted. David learned courage while protecting sheep before he needed it before Goliath (cf. 1 Sam 17:32–37). Esther entered the hidden discipline of royal life before discovering that her position had become a means of protecting her people (cf. Esth 4:13–16). Joseph endured betrayal,(cf. Gen 37:23–28; 41:37–57; 50:20) slavery and imprisonment before understanding how those hidden years had prepared him to preserve countless lives . The same mystery unfolds in ordinary souls.The nurse who patiently cultivates gentleness while caring for a difficult patient may one day carry that same tenderness into the room of a dying stranger (cf. Col 3:12–13; 2 Cor 1:3–4). The seminarian who learns to listen before speaking may eventually sit with a wounded penitent who needs compassionate presence more than immediate answers . A mother patiently caring for a child with difficulties may unknowingly be prepared to comfort another grieving mother years later. The worker who refuses a small dishonest gain may acquire courage to confront greater corruption;(cf. 2 Cor 1:3–4; Rom 5:3–5) the soul that perseveres through spiritual dryness may later sustain someone whose faith has collapsed . Grace often prepares the soul long before its future purpose becomes visible. St. Ignatius of Loyola taught attentiveness to the interior movements of the soul, while St. Francis de Sales revealed how fidelity in small duties becomes ordinary soil for holiness . Grace does not destroy our humanity but perfects it . Christ sanctifies the person we actually are—the parent, priest, farmer, teacher, artisan, student, doctor, religious, or grandparent . What grace quietly forms in us today may become the strength by which Christ carries another soul tomorrow.

Then comes the astonishing purpose: “to bring souls to Me.” Jesus does not say merely to bring souls toward religious activity, institutions, arguments or even our own example. He says “to Me.” The apostolate terminates in the Person of Christ. Andrew did not gather admiration around himself; he brought Peter toward Jesus (cf. Jn 1:40–42). Philip did not make himself the centre of the Ethiopian's search; he opened the Scriptures until the traveller encountered Christ and entered the sacramental life (cf. Acts 8:26–39). The Samaritan woman did not possess theological credentials, yet her encounter with Jesus became sufficiently real that others were drawn to investigate for themselves (cf. Jn 4:28–30, 39–42). Here lies a severe examination for every apostolic soul: Am I bringing people to Jesus, or am I unconsciously bringing them to myself? A catechist can become more interested in being admired than in awakening hunger for Christ. A preacher can become attached to applause. A Catholic social-media creator can begin measuring apostolic fruit through numbers. A parish leader can defend a ministry because it has become part of personal identity. A parent can confuse transmitting faith with controlling an adult child's spiritual decisions. The genuine apostle eventually becomes transparent. Consider the obscure servant girl in Naaman's household: she possessed almost no social power, yet her simple witness became a bridge toward healing (cf. 2 Kgs 5:1–4). Consider Onesimus, (cf. Philem 10–16) whose transformed relationship with Paul became part of a deeper reconciliation with Philemon . Consider the friends who carried the paralysed man through the roof:(cf. Mk 2:1–12) their faith did not merely seek physical improvement; it placed him directly before Jesus . Today, bringing souls to Christ may mean refusing to join gossip so that another person's dignity remains intact; helping a confused teenager distinguish attraction from vocation; accompanying a dying neighbour to receive the sacraments; quietly paying school fees for a child whose parents are struggling; explaining the faith to someone who has only encountered Catholicism through hostility; or simply remaining beside a grieving person without filling the silence with religious clichés. The Catechism(cf. CCC 849) describes the Church as missionary because she exists to communicate Christ and His salvation . The deepest evangelisation is therefore not making ourselves unforgettable but making Christ encounterable.

The whole Appeal finally forms a mystical ladder: consider, open, receive, strengthen, bring. Yet beneath these five movements is one extraordinary truth: Jesus wants to transform the soul into a living passage for grace. The soul looks at Him until it receives His gaze; it opens until grace enters; grace strengthens it until fear no longer dictates its choices; then Christ's own love begins reaching other souls through its ordinary existence. This is why hidden holiness can possess immense apostolic power. A contemplative nun who spends decades unknown may carry missionaries in the sanctuary of prayer. A bedridden man may offer every painful hour for priests. A grandmother may entrust her grandchildren by name to Christ before the Blessed Sacrament each morning (cf. 1 Sam 1:27–28). A lorry driver may pray a decade of the Rosary at each safe stop, offering his journeys for families he will never know (cf. 1 Thess 5:17–18). A cleaner may restore dignity to a neglected hospital room while quietly interceding for every patient who will enter it (cf. Col 3:23–24). A prisoner's sincere conversion may become a testimony that reaches another prisoner who has lost all hope. A child who sees his father kneel beside his bed every night may carry that image of prayer for fifty years. The hidden apostolate is full of mysteries because God can attach enormous spiritual consequences to acts whose earthly visibility is almost zero. St. Bruno's hidden contemplative vocation, St. Mariana de Jesús's penitential intercession for her people, and St. André Bessette's humble ministry of receiving countless troubled people each demonstrate different forms of this fecundity. The Eucharist reveals the summit: Christ gives Himself completely, remains hidden, and nevertheless becomes the source from which the Church receives life (cf. CCC 1324, 1325, 1368). Therefore, “Consider Me” is not merely an invitation to think about Jesus. It is an invitation to let Christ’s Presence become the hidden sun around which the whole soul turns (cf. Jn 15:4–5; Col 3:17). Then the eyes learn mercy, words carry truth without wounding, suffering becomes intercession, work becomes service, silence becomes prayer, and relationships begin to bear His fragrance (cf. Eph 4:29; Col 3:12–15; 2 Cor 2:15). Eventually, evangelization is no longer merely something the soul plans to do; the transformed life itself becomes its quiet proclamation . Having contemplated Jesus deeply, the soul begins to leave traces of Him wherever it goes.

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, teach us to consider You until Your gaze becomes our gaze. Open every hidden part of our hearts to Your grace. Strengthen us for the souls You entrust to us. May our words, silence, work, suffering and love become hidden channels through which souls encounter You. Amen.

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