Jesus Sensitive to the Tenderness of Souls

Divine Appeal Reflection - 145

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 145: "Do not fear to tell Me the things that you know will bring Me harm in the Sacrament of My Love. I am here sensitive to your tenderness. I ask you to keep silence at the delicate way in which I give you My secret thoughts. I love you to the point of doing the good I want to do for the good of souls."

One of the most profound dimensions of this appeal is that Jesus reveals the Eucharist as the place where He continues to make Himself vulnerable to human freedom. The Incarnation did not end at Bethlehem, nor did His vulnerability end at Calvary. In the Eucharist, Christ still places Himself into human hands, allowing Himself to be approached with love or indifference, reverence or carelessness, faith or unbelief . When Jesus says, "Do not fear to tell Me the things that you know will bring Me harm in the Sacrament of My Love," He is inviting souls into a form of Eucharistic friendship that few understand. The prophet Samuel (cf. 1 Sam 8:4-9) heard God lament that Israel had rejected divine kingship . Nehemiah (cf. Neh 1:3-4) wept when he learned that Jerusalem lay neglected and broken . Likewise, Christ allows certain souls to perceive the wounds caused by modern neglect of His Eucharistic Presence.  Think about the Catholic who can't spend ten minutes in front of the Blessed Sacrament but spends hours scrolling through a phone. Think about the parish where the tabernacle is not the residence of the King of Kings, but rather is viewed more like furniture.Think of the church that becomes quiet during a football game but is still preoccupied during Mass. Consider the countless tabernacles throughout the world where Jesus remains physically present while few come to adore Him. These realities are not merely liturgical problems; they are signs of wounded love. St. Carlo Acutis spent countless hours drawing young people toward Eucharistic devotion.   St. Paschal Baylón often remained before the Blessed Sacrament long into the night. The appeal teaches that Jesus seeks souls who will not simply observe these wounds but will bring them lovingly into conversation with Him, allowing His sorrows to become their own .

Another deeply mystical dimension appears in the words, "I am here sensitive to your tenderness." This reveals a startling truth: the Heart of Christ remains attentive to even the smallest expressions of love. Throughout Scripture, God repeatedly notices gestures that others overlook. He noticed the oil poured by the widow (cf. 1 Kgs 17:12-16) during famine . He noticed the simple lunch (cf. Jn 6:8-13) offered by a boy before the multiplication of loaves . He noticed the widow's two small coins (cf. Mk 12:41-44) placed quietly into the treasury . Divine love sees differently from the world. In an age obsessed with achievements, influence, recognition, and visibility, Our Adorable Jesus reveals the immense value of hidden tenderness toward Him. The world often measures greatness by what is noticed, applauded, or celebrated, but the Heart of Christ delights in acts of love that may never be seen by anyone else . Consider the janitor who enters a church before work and quietly greets Jesus in the tabernacle, offering the first moments of the day to the One who waits in silence . Consider the teenager who kneels reverently before the Blessed Sacrament while others remain distracted or indifferent, choosing worship over self-consciousness . Consider the nurse who stops briefly at a chapel after an exhausting shift and entrusts suffering patients to the Sacred Heart, carrying before God those whose pain she cannot fully relieve . Consider the farmer who pauses in the middle of a field to pray the Angelus, sanctifying ordinary labor by remembering the mystery of the Incarnation . Such actions rarely attract attention, yet they delight the Heart of Christ, who sees what is hidden and treasures every act of love offered in secret . The saints understood this mystery. St. Joseph Cafasso spent hidden hours praying for prisoners whom society had forgotten, carrying their souls before God with quiet compassion. Tenderness is powerful because it is one of the purest forms of love: it seeks no recognition, asks for no reward, and remains faithful even when unnoticed . The Eucharistic Heart responds deeply to such love because tenderness mirrors the humility of Christ Himself, who remains hidden beneath the appearances of bread and wine, silently offering Himself for the life of the world .

A further dimension concerns Christ's request to keep silence regarding His secret thoughts. This stillness is an internal attitude that fosters the development of heavenly mysteries within the soul, not just an external one. Many of God's greatest works were first revealed in secret throughout Scripture.  Tobit (cf. Tob 2:1-14) spent years walking faithfully through suffering without understanding God's plan . Anna the prophetess served in quiet prayer and fasting for decades before witnessing the Messiah (cf. Lk 2:36-38). John the Baptist (cf. Lk 1:80) spent years in the wilderness before his public mission began . The spiritual life often unfolds in a similar manner. Many souls desire immediate clarity, immediate answers, and immediate spiritual certainty. God frequently works through gradual illumination. A person may receive an interior conviction during adoration but not fully understand it for years. A parent may carry a hidden burden of prayer for a child long before seeing any change. A priest may remain faithful through decades of ordinary ministry before discovering the fruit of his sacrifices.  Venerable Fulton Sheen attributed much of his apostolic fruitfulness to his daily Holy Hour, where many inspirations remained hidden before bearing fruit publicly. The appeal teaches that certain graces should first be contemplated before they are explained. Sacred silence protects divine seeds from being uprooted by pride, impatience, or human curiosity. It creates space for God to complete His work according to His timing rather than ours .

Another remarkable insight emerges from the words, “I love you to the point of doing the good I want to do for the good of souls.” Here, Our Adorable Jesus reveals that His providence is constantly at work beneath the visible surface of life, guiding events toward purposes often hidden from human sight . Human beings frequently become discouraged because they judge reality by immediate outcomes, visible success, or apparent failure . Yet Christ sees the entire journey, not merely the present moment. What appears fruitless may be preparing abundant grace; what seems delayed may be unfolding according to divine wisdom . The contemplative soul gradually learns that God is always accomplishing good beyond what can be seen, heard, or measured, working tirelessly for the salvation and sanctification of souls even when His action remains hidden . Yet Scripture repeatedly reveals God accomplishing salvation through unexpected pathways. The young slave girl (cf. 2 Kgs 5:1-14) in Naaman's household became the instrument of his healing . The pagan king Cyrus unknowingly fulfilled God's purposes for Israel (cf. Is 45:1-6). The imprisonment of Paul became an occasion for the spread of the Gospel (cf. Phil 1:12-14). In ordinary life, God continues to work this way. A delayed job opportunity prevents a person from entering a harmful environment. A painful disappointment redirects someone toward a deeper vocation. A season of loneliness becomes the birthplace of prayer. A family crisis leads relatives back to the sacraments. A young adult questioning faith encounters an unexpected witness whose example changes everything. The saints repeatedly testified that God's most important works often remain hidden for long periods. St. Josephine Bakhita eventually recognized grace operating through circumstances she once considered meaningless. St. André Bessette spent decades performing humble tasks while God quietly touched countless souls through his ministry. Divine love remains active even when human eyes perceive only confusion. Christ's Heart continues working for the salvation of souls long before visible fruits appear (cf. Is 55:8-11; Rom 8:28).

At the highest mystical level, this appeal reveals that Our Adorable Jesus desires souls who will become custodians of His Eucharistic concerns. Such souls gradually cease living primarily for their own needs and begin carrying within their hearts the desires, sorrows, and saving love of Christ for the world . United to His Eucharistic Heart, they learn to see souls as He sees them and to intercede as He continually intercedes before the Father . Sacred Scripture offers striking examples of this spiritual maturity. Queen Esther risked her safety and position for the salvation of her people, (cf. Est 4:16) placing their welfare above her own security . Judith carried concern for Israel when others were overwhelmed by fear and discouragement, becoming an instrument of God's deliverance through courageous faith . St. Catherine Labouré silently accepted a heavenly ministry in the Church's life without asking for acknowledgement, letting grace operate through covert obedience. A significant truth is revealed by these witnesses: holiness matures as the soul starts to care about the things that Christ cares about.  The contemplative heart no longer asks only, "Lord, help me," but increasingly prays, "Lord, let me help carry Your concern for souls" . In this way, the soul becomes a living extension of the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus, silently participating in His mission of love and redemption . In practical life, this vocation appears in countless hidden ways. A monk intercedes for young people she will never meet. A teacher offers daily frustrations for struggling students. A seminarian prays for future parishioners. A widow offers loneliness for priests. A businessman sacrifices personal gain to remain faithful to the Gospel. Such people become extensions of Christ's concern for humanity. They no longer ask merely how God can help them; they begin asking how they can console, accompany, and cooperate with Him. Their lives become places where the secret thoughts of Christ continue to bear fruit. This is the ultimate invitation of the appeal: to become so united with the Eucharistic Heart that His hidden desires, His sorrow for souls, His mercy toward sinners, and His longing for the Father's glory become the governing force of one's entire existence (cf. Col 3:1-4; CCC 521).

Prayer

O Adorable Jesus, grant us tender hearts attentive to Your Eucharistic sorrows. Teach us to console You with reverence, guard Your confidences in sacred silence, and trust Your hidden work for souls. Make us faithful friends of Your Sacred Heart, living only for Your glory and the salvation of souls. Amen.

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

Many Flagellations in These Terrible Days

Divine Appeal Reflection - 145

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 145: "My Eternal Father’s anger is cast down on this world. These are terrible days. Do not be afraid of seeing many flagellations."

Flagellations signify trials, sufferings, and purifying chastisements that God, in His wisdom and mercy, permits for the conversion of hearts, the purification of His people, and the salvation of souls . They are not signs of divine abandonment but reminders that God continues to act within history, calling humanity back to Himself . One of the most profound and often overlooked dimensions of this appeal is that the worst flagellations are not necessarily wars, disasters, epidemics, economic collapses, or social upheavals. The most terrible flagellations often occur invisibly within the human soul. Scripture repeatedly reveals that one of God's severest judgments is permitting people to persist in their chosen blindness when they continually reject grace (cf. Rom 1:21-28). Before Jerusalem (cf. Jer 5:1-3) was destroyed externally, it had already become spiritually desolate internally . Before Samson lost his physical strength, he had already lost vigilance and intimacy with God (cf. Judg 16:20). Before Judas (cf. Jn 13:27) betrayed Christ outwardly, he had gradually permitted darkness to take root in his heart . This pattern remains visible today. A soul slowly abandons prayer, not through rebellion but through neglect. Daily Mass becomes occasional Mass. Occasional Mass becomes rare Mass. Confession disappears. Conscience becomes less sensitive. Sin gradually appears normal. Eventually, the person may retain religious language while losing spiritual life. This interior desolation is a hidden flagellation. 

Many modern people suffer from this condition without recognizing it. They may possess opportunities, comfort, education, success, relationships, and endless forms of entertainment, yet still carry a profound interior emptiness. The human heart was not created merely for achievement, pleasure, or self-fulfillment; it was created for communion with God . When God is no longer at the center of life, even good things gradually lose their ability to satisfy the deepest longings of the soul. What initially appears as fulfillment often gives way to restlessness, dissatisfaction, and an unspoken sense that something essential is missing . St. Augustine recognized this spiritual reality through his own experience. After pursuing knowledge, success, pleasure, and worldly ambitions, he discovered that the human heart remains restless when separated from its true source and final end, which is God (cf. Ps 42:1–2; CCC 30). This restlessness is not a defect but a divine sign. It is the soul's hidden memory of the One for whom it was created. Beneath many modern forms of anxiety, boredom, and dissatisfaction often lies a deeper spiritual hunger—a longing not merely for something more, but for Someone greater (cf. Jn 4:13–14; Jn 6:35). Thus, what appears to be emptiness may become an invitation of grace, calling the soul to return to the God who alone can satisfy its infinite desire for truth, beauty, love, and eternal life . Such spiritual blindness (cf. CCC 1865; CCC 2094) is more dangerous than physical suffering because it affects eternity itself .

Another deeply human dimension of flagellations is that they frequently emerge through the consequences of collective sin. Modern culture often separates personal morality from social realities. Scripture does not. When Israel abandoned God, the consequences eventually affected families, institutions, leadership, culture, and national stability (cf. Judg 2:11-19). The prophet Hosea (cf. Hos 4:1-3) described how widespread infidelity gradually corrupted every layer of society . The appeal invites us to recognize similar realities today. Consider families where several generations no longer pray together. Consider children raised without any knowledge of God.  Think about the normalisation of euthanasia, abortion, pornography, dishonesty, and disdain for the truth.Think about the millions of people who suffer from loneliness while having continual access to the internet.  Despite the remarkable advancements in technology, young people are seeing an increase in worry. These realities are not merely sociological problems; they reveal spiritual wounds affecting entire cultures . A society cannot reject divine order indefinitely without experiencing consequences. Yet the deepest tragedy is not that God punishes; it is that human beings often create their own suffering by separating themselves from the source of life . St. Catherine of Siena frequently taught that many afflictions arise because humanity resists the order established by divine wisdom. The appeal therefore calls souls not primarily to speculate about future punishments but to examine how present disorders already reveal the consequences of living without God .

A particularly striking mystical dimension appears in the words, "Do not be afraid of seeing many flagellations." Jesus does not say that difficult events will not occur. He says not to fear them. This distinction is crucial. Noah (cf. Gen 6:9) witnessed corruption on a scale rarely seen in history, yet he walked with God . Lot (cf. Gen 19:15-17) lived amid moral collapse in Sodom, yet divine providence remained active . The Apostles lived amid persecution, political instability, imprisonment, rejection, and the constant threat of martyrdom, yet they remained filled with supernatural hope because their confidence rested not in circumstances but in the risen Christ . Having witnessed the victory of the Resurrection, they understood that no earthly power could ultimately overcome God's plan . Their joy did not arise from security but from communion with Christ. Fear becomes spiritually dangerous when it eclipses trust in God and begins to dominate the imagination more than divine providence . Today many Christians are constantly exposed to news of crises, scandals, disasters, conflicts, economic uncertainty, moral decline, and social upheaval. Some become absorbed in predicting catastrophes, while others grow weary, discouraged, or paralyzed by anxiety . Yet Jesus consistently redirects attention away from fear and toward fidelity, vigilance, prayer, and perseverance . When plague devastated communities, St. Charles Borromeo increased his pastoral care and sacrificial service.   St. Marianne Cope embraced the same mission with heroic tenderness, seeing Christ where others saw only danger and suffering. Their response to crisis was not withdrawal into fear but deeper charity, stronger faith, and greater trust in divine providence . The Christian soul is called to become more prayerful, more Eucharistic, more sacramental, more trusting, and more charitable precisely when the world becomes more unstable . Throughout salvation history, God has often manifested His power most clearly during periods of apparent darkness . Therefore, the darkness of an age should not diminish confidence in God but intensify it. The darker the night, the more brightly the light of Christ shines for those who place their trust in Him (cf. Jn 1:5; Rom 5:3–5; Phil 4:6–7).

At the deepest mystical level, the appeal reveals that flagellations are ultimately ordered toward purification, not destruction. Divine love often permits painful awakenings when gentler invitations have been ignored . Consider the prodigal son (cf. Lk 15:14-17). He discovered the truth about himself not during prosperity but during famine . Consider Nebuchadnezzar (cf. Dan 4:28-37), whose humiliation eventually led him to acknowledge God's sovereignty . Consider Peter, (cf. Lk 22:61-62) who encountered profound conversion through the pain of his denial . Throughout history, periods of crisis have often produced extraordinary saints. St. Teresa of Avila emerged during widespread religious confusion.. St. Faustina received the message of Divine Mercy amid the shadows preceding global conflict. God frequently raises saints precisely when darkness increases . This appeal therefore calls souls not merely to fear chastisements but to become instruments of mercy within them. The proper response is deeper prayer, Eucharistic adoration, reparation, fasting, fidelity to one's vocation, devotion to the Sacred Heart, trust in Divine Mercy, and concern for the salvation of souls . The greatest flagellation is not suffering itself but remaining unconverted after receiving countless graces. The greatest protection is not escape from every trial but living so deeply within Christ that even the darkest events become occasions for greater faith, greater hope, and greater love . In the end, the tears of blood flowing from the Heart of Jesus reveal that mercy continues to seek humanity even in the midst of judgment, because His final desire is not condemnation but the salvation of souls .

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, as the world passes through confusion, suffering, and uncertainty, keep our eyes fixed upon You. Let us never be overcome by fear, but grow more prayerful, more faithful, more Eucharistic, and more charitable. Strengthened by Your Presence and sustained by Your mercy, may we persevere with joyful hope, carrying our crosses in union with Yours until the day we behold You face to face in eternal glory. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 145

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME 1

“I have nothing more precious than souls of mankind.”

“My daughter, listen to My words of tears. I am calling you to pray and to do penance and receive Me in atonement for all the offences and abuses against Me. For the great love of mankind I am above this world. Listen to Me. I have a very important message. It is only prayers that can save this world. My Eternal Father’s anger is cast down on this world. These are terrible days. Do not be afraid of seeing many flagellations. With My tears of blood I want to cover this corrupt world.

This earth is full of terror and the devil has taken possession of souls. What a pain! Mankind does not want to repent! Pray a great deal. Do not fear to tell Me the things that you know will bring Me harm in the Sacrament of My Love. I am here sensitive to your tenderness. I ask you to keep silence at the delicate way in which I give you My secret thoughts. I love you to the point of doing the good I want to do for the good of souls. I am in great need of saving souls. Keep silence. I have nothing more precious than souls of mankind. I beg you to be humble. Loosen yourself for the sake of souls.

Follow My voice for it will lead you to co-operate and hunt more souls for Me. Time is short. The devil already knows how short it is. From My Divine Mercy I speak and call back souls. Listen to My crying voice.”

“I bless you.”

3.30 a.m., 18th May 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).

Praying Through Events and for Unknown Souls

Divine Appeal Reflection - 144

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 144:  "Pray a great deal for the souls unknown to you... Everyday I call you to pray through events."

One of the most hidden sufferings in the Heart of Our Adorable Jesus is that countless souls pass through life carrying burdens that remain unseen by the world and unremembered in prayer. While many are surrounded by family, friends, and communities, others walk through decisive spiritual battles in profound loneliness. Christ, who knows every heart and every hidden wound , sees the souls that no one else notices. He sees the businessman sitting alone in a hotel room contemplating suicide, the teenager quietly being drawn into addiction through influences no parent fully understands, the widow eating another meal in silence after the loss of her spouse, the prisoner consumed by resentment, the priest carrying discouragement behind a faithful exterior, the frightened mother considering abortion, and the dying patient whose bedside remains empty . Jesus sees them all simultaneously . This appeal unveils a divine perspective that transcends human relationships. Christ does not ask merely for prayer for those we know but for those who have never entered our lives. This is the mystery of His universal love. St. Thérèse of Lisieux offered sacrifices for an unknown condemned criminal and later discovered signs of his conversion before execution. Abraham interceded for Sodom despite having no personal connection to most of its inhabitants (cf. Gen 18:22–33). The Catechism teaches that all the faithful form one communion in Christ (cf. CCC 946–953). Therefore, no soul is truly a stranger. Every Christian is mysteriously connected to every other person through the redeeming Blood of Christ. Jesus invites us to expand our hearts beyond natural affection until they begin to resemble His own Heart, which ceaselessly carries the concerns of every soul from the beginning to the end of time. 

The appeal becomes even more astonishing when Jesus says, “Everyday I call you to pray through events.” Instead of receiving events spiritually, the majority of people spend their life responding to them emotionally. Instinctively, they evaluate situations based on their immediate emotions—pleasure, disappointment, success, fear, frustration, or loss. A promotion brings excitement, criticism causes discouragement, unexpected suffering produces anxiety, and uncertainty generates restlessness. Yet the contemplative soul gradually discovers that events are rarely mere events. Beneath visible circumstances lies a deeper invitation from God, who works through all things for the sanctification of His children . This spiritual vision transforms the way reality is perceived. What appears as an interruption may be an invitation to patience (cf. Jas 1:2–4). A disappointment may become a summons to deeper trust . A closed door may redirect the soul toward a greater good not yet visible (cf. Acts 16:6–10). Even suffering, though never desired for its own sake, can become a place of profound encounter with Christ and participation in His redemptive love (cf. Rom 5:3–5; Col 1:24; CCC 618). Consider how frequently daily circumstances pass through our hands unnoticed. A news report about a war may not simply be information; it may be Christ asking for prayers for a frightened child hiding in a basement somewhere. A funeral announcement may be an invitation to pray for grieving relatives and for the deceased soul standing before divine judgment (cf. Heb 9:27). Hearing a siren in the distance may be Heaven's request for intercession for someone whose eternity could be approaching. St. Faustina frequently understood ordinary encounters as opportunities for hidden apostolic prayer. The Blessed Virgin (cf. Lk 2:19, 51) treasured events in silence, contemplating their spiritual meaning before responding . The Catechism (cf. CCC 302–314) teaches that divine providence mysteriously guides creation toward its ultimate purpose . Therefore, events are never spiritually neutral. The soul that is focused on God starts to see that Christ communicates through situations as well as Scripture, sacraments, and prayer.  What appears accidental often becomes an invitation into His own concern for humanity. The contemplative Christian learns to ask, not merely “Why did this happen?” but “For whom am I being asked to pray?”

A profoundly mystical dimension of this appeal is the realization that God sometimes permits souls to encounter small fragments of the burdens carried by others so that they may secretly participate in His work of redemption (cf. Gal 6:2; Col 1:24; CCC 618). As the soul becomes more united to Christ, it gradually becomes more sensitive to the movements of His Heart, which eternally intercedes before the Father for the salvation of the world . In this mystery, prayer is no longer limited to personal needs; it becomes participation in the compassionate love of Christ Himself . Many people occasionally experience unexplained heaviness, sudden urges to pray, unusual interior sorrow, or a persistent concern that seems disconnected from their own circumstances. Discernment is always necessary, since not every interior movement comes from God . Yet the great spiritual writers recognized that the Holy Spirit can quietly invite souls into hidden intercession for needs known fully only to God (cf. Rom 8:26–27). St. Gemma Galgani often found herself drawn into intense prayer for persons she had never met, while St. Maria Faustina Kowalska experienced urgent impulses to pray, later discovering that souls were in particular need of mercy . Sacred Scripture reveals similar mysteries of hidden cooperation with divine providence. Abraham's servant was guided toward Rebekah through ordinary events that concealed extraordinary divine action (cf. Gen 24:12–27). Ananias received an unexpected call to seek out Saul, (cf. Acts 9:10–17) becoming a crucial instrument in a moment that would shape the future of the Church . Neither fully understood the significance of their obedience when they acted. Most Christians assume that prayer begins with their own intentions. Yet at a deeper level, prayer often begins in the Heart of Jesus before it reaches the human heart . A sudden remembrance of someone, a passing image that returns repeatedly, an unexpected concern, a news story that refuses to leave the mind, or a burden carried without obvious explanation may sometimes be an invitation into Christ's own intercessory love . The contemplative soul gradually learns not to dismiss these movements too quickly. Instead of asking, "Why am I thinking about this?" it begins asking, "Jesus, who are You inviting me to carry before the Father?" In this way, the Christian becomes a living instrument through which the hidden desires, mercies, and saving concerns of the Sacred Heart quietly flow into the world (cf. Jn 15:5, 9–13; CCC 2565).

At its highest mystical summit, this appeal reveals that Jesus desires to transform the Christian into a spiritual echo of His own Heart. The Eternal Son constantly stands before the Father carrying every soul, every need, every wound, and every possibility of grace (cf. Heb 7:25; Jn 17:9–26). The more deeply a person enters contemplation, the less prayer remains centered on personal needs, anxieties, and concerns, and the more it becomes participation in the universal love of Christ, who desires the salvation of all . As the soul draws nearer to the Heart of Jesus, its horizons expand beyond itself, gradually embracing the joys, wounds, struggles, and eternal destiny of others . This helps explain why the greatest saints often carried immense spiritual burdens for souls they would never meet on earth. St. Catherine of Siena wept and offered sacrifices for sinners unknown to her because her heart had become united to Christ's thirst for souls (cf. Jn 19:28; Ezek 22:30). St. Silouan the Athonite taught that the closer a soul comes to God, the more it grieves, intercedes, and prays for the entire world, reflecting the compassion of Christ who wept over Jerusalem and carried humanity within His Heart . St. Thérèse of Lisieux, though enclosed within a cloister, spiritually embraced missionaries, unbelievers, sinners, priests, and distant nations, demonstrating that love united to God transcends every geographical boundary (cf. Col 3:14; CCC 953). In contemplation, the soul gradually ceases asking merely, “Lord, help me,” and begins praying, “Lord, save them,” entering the priestly and redemptive love of Christ Himself . Such souls begin to share something of Christ's own thirst for humanity . They understand that history itself is a vast battlefield of grace where countless eternal destinies are being decided every moment. Consequently, every event becomes spiritually charged. A drought becomes prayer for farmers. A public scandal becomes prayer for repentance. A natural disaster becomes prayer for the dying and grieving. A chance encounter becomes prayer for generations yet unborn. The soul no longer moves through life observing events from the outside but enters them through love. This is the hidden apostolate of the contemplative: to stand with Christ at the heart of the world, silently receiving its joys and sorrows and returning them to the Father as ceaseless intercession. In this way, the Christian gradually becomes what St. Elizabeth of the Trinity called a living praise of glory, allowing Christ's own prayer to continue within the depths of the soul until eternity.

Prayer

O Adorable Jesus, enlarge our hearts to love the souls we do not know. Teach us to recognize Your call hidden within daily events. May every joy, sorrow, interruption, and encounter become prayer united to Your Heart. Make us faithful intercessors, participating in Your saving love for countless souls. Amen.

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

Understanding Self-Annihilation in Christ

Divine Appeal Reflection - 144

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 144:  "I want you to understand and  annihilate yourself so that My Eternal Father may reign not only in you but to many more souls which you bring to Me."

The word “annihilate” in the spiritual life is often misunderstood. Jesus is not calling the soul to self-hatred, loss of dignity, or destruction of personality, for each person is created in God’s image and loved eternally . Rather, He calls for the death of the false self—the inner kingdom of pride, self-will, vanity, ego, and self-exaltation that seeks to replace God at the center. Since the fall of Adam and Eve , humanity has carried this hidden inclination toward self-rule and independence from God. This inner struggle appears in daily life: irritation when ignored, pain when unrecognized, defensiveness when corrected, or anxiety when control is lost. These moments reveal the ego quietly resisting God’s reign. Scripture shows that sin is often this exchange of God’s truth for self-glory (cf. Rom 1:21–25). Jesus therefore invites a deep interior dying so that He may live within the soul (cf. Gal 2:20). This “annihilation” is not destruction but liberation—the fading of the false self so that the true self, rooted in God, may arise in humility, freedom, and peace . A husband becomes angry because his opinion is ignored. A wife becomes discouraged because her sacrifices go unnoticed. A worker seeks praise more than service. A student desires success more than truth. Even spiritual people can subtly seek themselves through ministry, leadership, or apostolic works. Yet throughout Scripture, God consistently exalts those who allow self to decrease. John the Baptist (cf. Jn 3:30) accepted obscurity so that Christ might increase . Gideon learned that victory belonged to God and not human strength (cf. Judg 7:1-8). The Blessed Virgin Mary, through her humble fiat and canticle of praise (cf. Lk 1:38; 1:46–49), chose the lowest place before God and was raised by Him above all creatures as Queen of Heaven (cf. Rev 12:1). Her life reveals a fundamental spiritual law found throughout Scripture: those who humble themselves before God are exalted by Him . The saints teach that sanctity begins when the soul relinquishes its claim to self-sovereignty and allows God to occupy the throne of the heart that belongs to Him alone . This interior dying is often painful because fallen human nature clings to recognition, control, and self-will . Yet this self-emptying becomes the doorway to true liberty, for the soul is freed from the restless burden of self-occupation and enters the peace of living entirely for God’s glory (cf. Phil 2:5–11; Mt 11:28–30). As seen in Mary, the more the creature disappears into God's will, the more divine life shines through it, transforming surrender into fruitfulness, obscurity into greatness, and humility into a participation in the very life of heaven (cf. Jn 3:30; Lk 14:11; CCC 521).

A second profound dimension of this appeal lies in the words, "I want you to understand." Before God transforms a soul, He often illuminates it. Spiritual growth begins with truth. Many people spend years fighting external battles while remaining blind to the deeper attachments governing their lives. The rich young man (cf. Mk 10:17-22) sincerely desired eternal life, yet he failed to recognize how deeply attached he was to possessions . Martha loved Jesus, (cf. Lk 10:38-42) yet she needed to discover the primacy of His presence over activity . Jonah (cf. Jon 4:1-11) preached conversion but struggled to understand God's mercy toward sinners . Many Christians know their obvious faults but remain unaware of the deeper movements of the heart—quiet pride, hidden resentment, need for control, self-reliance, or the desire for recognition. Scripture  shows that the human heart can mislead even its owner . For this reason, God permits moments that quietly pierce our self-image—being misunderstood when we meant well, corrected when we felt sure, overlooked when we expected recognition, or left in long seasons of interior dryness.  A denied opportunity can reveal how deeply we are attached to status (cf. Mk 8:36); a conflict can expose how fragile our patience and humility truly are (cf. Jas 1:19–20); and silence in prayer can uncover how easily faith leans on feelings rather than pure trust in God . The saints recognized this as mercy. St. Ignatius of Loyola saw ambition purified through suffering. St. Francis of Assisi found freedom when stripped of security. St. Elizabeth of the Trinity taught that truth about oneself before God is the beginning of union with Him. Though painful, such light is healing. God does not reveal the heart to destroy it, but to free it. When truth enters, illusion falls away, and the soul becomes available for grace and real transformation .

A third dimension concerns the astonishing goal of this annihilation: "that My Eternal Father may reign in you." Christianity is not merely about avoiding sin; it is about establishing the reign of the Father within the soul. Jesus (cf. Jn 5:19; Jn 6:38) constantly directed attention toward the Father throughout His earthly life . Every aspect of His mission flowed from filial surrender. The Christian vocation is therefore participation in the Son's relationship with the Father . Yet the Father's reign is often resisted by subtle forms of self-rule. We want God's will when it agrees with our plans. We trust His providence until it contradicts our preferences. We surrender until surrender becomes costly.  Abraham (cf. Gen 12:1-4) left familiar securities because God called him . Joseph (cf. Gen 37-50) accepted years of hidden suffering and misunderstanding while trusting divine providence . Mary (cf. Lk 1:26-38)  consented to a mission she could not fully understand . Their greatness consisted not in extraordinary talents but in allowing God's will to reign. In practical life, the Father's reign appears in countless hidden choices. A spouse forgives rather than retaliates. A worker chooses integrity rather than dishonesty. A priest remains faithful amid discouragement. A young adult follows conscience rather than cultural pressure. An elderly person accepts physical limitations with trust. Each act becomes a declaration that God's kingdom matters more than personal preference. The Father's reign is not established through dramatic experiences but through daily surrender (cf. Mt 6:10; CCC 2816-2821).

A fourth and often overlooked dimension of the appeal is that self-annihilation is never merely personal. Jesus says that the Father's reign must extend "to many more souls which you bring to Me." This reveals the apostolic purpose of holiness. God does not purify souls simply for their own sanctification. He purifies them so they may become instruments of grace for others. Throughout Scripture, every deep encounter with God leads to mission. Moses encountered God in the burning bush and was sent to Israel (cf. Ex 3:1-10). Isaiah's (cf. Is 6:1-8) purification led to prophetic service . Paul  encountered Christ and immediately became an apostle .  Though genuine Christian contemplation never stays contained within the self, modern culture frequently views spirituality as something private, introspective, and self-contained. The heart is enlarged, not closed in on itself, and starts to bear the burden of others before God when it actually comes into contact with Him. Scripture shows that love of God and love of neighbour cannot be separated (cf. Mt 22:37–39), and that genuine abiding in Christ naturally bears fruit outwardly . The saints consistently show this movement: deep prayer leads not to isolation, but to mission, intercession, and concern for the salvation of others . In this way, contemplation becomes fruitful charity, where the soul, having been touched by divine love, begins to desire that others also be drawn into that same life. Parents who live holy lives evangelize children. Employers who act justly influence workers. Teachers who embody truth shape future generations. Religious who pray faithfully obtain graces for countless souls. A person truly surrendered to God becomes a channel through which divine life reaches others. The Father's reign within one soul becomes the seed of His reign in many souls (cf. Mt 13:31-33; CCC 863).

At the highest mystical level, this appeal reveals that self-annihilation is ultimately participation in the life of Christ Himself. The Son eternally receives everything from the Father and returns everything to Him in perfect love (cf. Jn 17:1-5). Jesus' earthly life manifested this eternal reality. From Bethlehem to Calvary , He continually emptied Himself in obedience and love .  St. John of the Cross describes a purification in which self-seeking gradually disappears.  St. Elizabeth of the Trinity longed to become a living praise of God's glory through complete surrender. This is the final meaning of the appeal. The goal is not self-destruction but self-transformation. The false kingdom of ego must diminish so that the Kingdom of the Father may expand. The soul slowly undergoes a quiet reordering of its deepest questions. It no longer lives under the pressure of the restless inquiry, “What do I want?” but begins to ask with growing simplicity and truth, “What gives glory to the Father?” This shift is not merely moral improvement, but interior conversion—a turning of the centre of gravity from self to God (cf. Mt 6:33; Rom 12:2). Scripture shows this as the renewal of the mind that discerns God’s will rather than the impulses of ego and desire (cf. Rom 12:2; Phil 2:13).  Scripture shows this reordering of desire as a conversion of the heart, where human intention is purified and aligned with God’s will (cf. Mt 6:33; Rom 12:2). The saints describe this as the slow death of self-centered living and the birth of a life ordered toward divine charity, where even ordinary actions become offerings when done for God . In this way, the soul learns to measure reality not by what it gains, but by how faithfully it loves in each moment . Then the Father's reign becomes visible. Christ lives more fully within the soul (cf. Gal 2:20). The Holy Spirit (cf. Rom 8:26-27) acts with greater freedom . Souls are drawn toward God through hidden witness. The person becomes transparent to divine life. Such souls are rare, yet they become some of the most powerful instruments in the history of salvation because they no longer seek their own kingdom but the eternal Kingdom of the Father .

Prayer 

Our Adorable Jesus, teach us to understand ourselves in Your light and surrender every trace of pride, self-will, and self-seeking. May the Eternal Father reign completely within us. Empty us of all that hinders grace and make our lives instruments through which many souls are drawn into Your Kingdom. Amen.

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