Speaking to Souls About Their Evil

Divine Appeal Reflection - 149

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 149: "... speak to souls for all the evil they do... I give you the words to speak and I give you light to see their consciences."

One of the deepest mysteries of Our Adorable Jesus' mercy is that He refuses to remain silent while a soul slowly hardens its heart against His love . Like the Lord who warned Cain before sin mastered him (cf. Gen 4:6–7), called Samuel (cf. 1 Sam 3:1–10) until he recognized His voice , pursued Jonah  despite his flight , sought Elijah (cf. 1 Kgs 19:9–18) in his discouragement  through the gentle whisper , and addressed Judas (cf. Mt 26:47–50) as "friend" even in the hour of betrayal , Christ always seeks restoration before ruin. Thus, when He says, "Speak to souls for all the evil they do," He invites us to share in His redeeming compassion—a love that enters another's darkness not to condemn, but to awaken conscience, heal what sin has wounded, and gently lead every wandering soul back into the Father's embrace . Divine love does not expose sin to shame the sinner but to rescue the image of God that sin has disfigured . Like a surgeon who must first uncover a hidden wound before healing it, Christ gently uncovers the illnesses of the soul so that grace may restore what sin has wounded . This was the mission of the prophet Nathan. Instead of publicly humiliating David after his adultery and murder, Nathan entered the king's heart through a simple parable until David himself recognized the darkness within him (cf. 2 Sam 12:1-13). God desired not humiliation but conversion. The same mystery unfolds today. A father notices that his adult son has slowly abandoned Sunday Mass. Every family gathering becomes an exercise in pretending nothing has changed. For months, a father remains silent, fearing that speaking will push his son further away. Yet after many hours before the Blessed Sacrament, he gently tells him that his deepest fear is not the loss of family harmony but the loss of his soul . His words carry tears rather than anger because they have first been purified in prayer. St. John Vianney often reminded others that hearts are won more by love than by eloquence. Only those who have first wept with Christ can speak with the tenderness that awakens sleeping consciences .

Jesus does not simply promise, "I give you the words to speak." First He says, "I give you light to see their consciences."This order is profoundly important. Before speaking about another soul, Christ teaches us to see that soul through His own eyes. Human judgment notices behaviour; divine wisdom perceives hidden wounds, forgotten battles, silent fears, and buried hopes . Many outward sins are the visible cries of hearts that have never experienced authentic love. Without the light of the Holy Spirit, correction easily becomes criticism. With His light, even difficult truth becomes an act of healing mercy . This mystery shines beautifully in  Ananias of Damascus. To every Christian, Saul appeared to be nothing more than a violent persecutor deserving fear. Yet God revealed another reality invisible to human eyes: (cf. Acts 9:10-19) beneath the persecutor was an apostle waiting to be born . Had Ananias trusted only appearances, the Church might never have welcomed Paul. Every Christian faces similar moments. A teacher may see a rebellious student and assume laziness until she discovers the child spends each night caring for an alcoholic parent (cf. 1 Sam 16:7). A parishioner may quietly judge a priest's reserve, unaware of the hidden burdens he carries for his flock . A wife may mistake her husband's silence for indifference, not knowing he is privately entrusting his family's future to God amid the fear of losing his job . St. Francis de Sales taught that patient gentleness reflects the Heart of God because it seeks first to understand before judging. Christ's light transforms not only our words but also our vision, teaching us to look upon every person with the compassion and mercy of His Sacred Heart .

Perhaps the greatest mistake in correcting others is speaking before praying. Jesus never asks His disciples to become prosecutors of souls but intercessors for souls. Before His public words, Christ spent entire nights alone with the Father, allowing divine love to shape every action . Every apostle who wishes to touch consciences must first learn this hidden school of contemplation. The person who has never carried another soul before God will often carry hidden frustration into every conversation. Prayer purifies motives until correction no longer seeks victory but salvation . This truth appears powerfully in Moses after Israel worshipped the golden calf. Although the people had deeply offended God, (cf. Ex 32:30-32) Moses did not first accuse them. He ascended the mountain, wept, pleaded, and even offered himself for them before returning to speak to Israel . His words possessed authority because they had already been purified by intercession. This same mystery unfolds quietly today. A mother discovers that her daughter has become trapped in an unhealthy relationship. Though every instinct urges an immediate confrontation, she first spends weeks before the Blessed Sacrament, asking Jesus to prepare her daughter's heart before opening her own lips . When the conversation finally comes, it is marked not by fear or control but by compassion shaped through prayer. St. Monica wept and persevered in prayer for years before witnessing the conversion of her son, Augustine of Hippo . Her tears accomplished what arguments alone could not. Christ still seeks apostles who kneel before they speak, adore before they advise, and allow His Heart to form their own before leading souls back to Him .

When Our Adorable Jesus says, "I give you the words to speak," He reveals that there are words born of human impulse and words born of the Holy Spirit . Human words often defend pride, win arguments, or express frustration. Christ's words always seek the salvation and healing of the person before Him . Before He spoke, Jesus first entered the wounds of those He met, seeing beyond outward sins to the deeper thirst, fear, and loneliness that held them captive . This mystery shines through the prophet Hosea, whose faithful love for an unfaithful wife became a living sign of God's unwavering pursuit of His people . Mercy never excuses sin, (cf. Lk 15:11–32; CCC 1846–1848) yet it never ceases to seek the sinner's return . The same grace is urgently needed today. A physician must gently tell a patient that addiction is destroying both body and soul . A superior must lovingly correct a religious whose hidden resentment is weakening community life . A friend must courageously challenge dishonest business practices that cannot be reconciled with the Gospel . Such conversations often cost tears because authentic charity refuses both harshness and indifference. St. Philip Neri corrected souls with such fatherly joy that difficult truths were received as gifts of love. He won hearts before he corrected lives. This is the Heart of Christ: souls are rarely converted by arguments alone, but by encountering a love that speaks the truth with humility, patience, and unfailing tenderness .

The final and perhaps most humbling dimension of this appeal is that the light Jesus gives to see another person's conscience first shines upon our own. Before the apostle becomes a messenger, he must become a penitent. The more deeply one enters God's light, the less one feels superior to anyone else. Contemplation gradually replaces judgment with compassion because it reveals how much mercy we ourselves have received . This mystery appears profoundly in St. Peter. After denying Christ three times,  (cf. Lk 22:61-62; Jn 21:15-17) Peter no longer possessed the pride of a man who believed himself incapable of falling. When the risen Lord later entrusted him with the care of the Church, Peter led not from remembered strength but from remembered mercy . His tears became the foundation of his ministry. He could strengthen his brethren because he knew what it meant to be restored by grace. Every Christian experiences this hidden school. A father who has wrestled with anger often learns to guide his son with greater patience because he remembers the mercy that changed his own heart . A woman restored through God's forgiveness welcomes returning sinners with compassion because she knows the joy of coming home to the Father's embrace. A priest formed by long hours before the Blessed Sacrament gradually discovers that every confession is holy ground where Christ has already begun His work of healing . Saint Faustina Kowalska discovered through her intimate communion with Divine Mercy that the more profoundly a soul allows itself to be transformed by Christ's merciful Heart, the less it judges and the more it reflects His compassion toward others. Having experienced its own poverty before God, such a soul no longer looks upon human weakness with superiority but with patient charity, recognizing that every sinner is someone for whom Christ shed His Precious Blood . This is the summit of Our Adorable Jesus' appeal: He desires not merely eloquent witnesses, gifted evangelizers, or zealous workers, but hearts so united to His own that His mercy continues to flow through them. Then Christ Himself quietly seeks the lost through their kindness, heals hidden wounds through their compassion, strengthens the discouraged through their hope, forgives through their gentleness, and patiently leads wandering souls back to the Father's house through lives that radiate His Sacred Heart .

Prayer 

My Adorable Jesus, purify my heart before You send my voice. Give me Your light to see souls with mercy, Your wisdom to speak only what heals, and Your humility to remember my own need for grace. May every word I utter lead souls gently back to Your Sacred Heart. Amen.

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

Worriless Tranquility of Christ's Ministers

Divine Appeal Reflection - 149

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 149: "My ministers are worriless and tranquil. They do not  defend Me. Instead they step on Me and allow everything. My  arm falls inexorably. Many of them do not believe My words."

The first cry of Our Adorable Jesus is one of profound loneliness: "My ministers are worriless and tranquil." He is not condemning the holy peace that springs from trusting the Father (cf. Jn. 14:27), but exposing a spiritual tranquility that has become detached from His own Heart. Christ never knew such indifference. Even after exhausting days of preaching, He looked upon the crowds with compassion because He saw them wandering without shepherds (cf. Mt. 9:36). He remained awake through the night before choosing the Apostles (cf. Lk. 6:12–13). He wept over Jerusalem because people were unknowingly rejecting the very grace that could save them (cf. Lk. 19:41–44). His priests are ordained to share this same Heart . Yet Our Adorable Jesus reveals that many ministers no longer carry the hidden anguish of His Shepherd's Heart. A priest may preach faithfully, celebrate the Sacred Mysteries, visit the sick, and fulfill every pastoral duty, yet gradually cease spending long hours before the tabernacle interceding for the souls entrusted to him by name (cf. Jn. 10:3–4; Heb. 7:25). A bishop may diligently oversee his diocese while failing to notice that some of his priests are quietly losing the joy of their first love, becoming spiritually weary and inwardly isolated (cf. Rev. 2:4–5; Jn. 21:15–17). A novice master may carefully form young religious in discipline and community life, yet overlook that one novice has abandoned intimate prayer and now serves Christ only outwardly, like Martha without first becoming Mary (cf. Lk. 10:39–42). A superior may rejoice that apostolic works flourish while failing to perceive that prolonged adoration has diminished, fraternal charity has cooled, and zeal for holiness has been replaced by efficiency (cf. Acts 6:2–4; Phil. 3:7–10). 

Our Adorable Jesus does not condemn generous work; He mourns when ministry no longer springs from hearts consumed by His thirst for souls . The greatest poverty of a minister is not physical fatigue but the gradual loss of that interior fire which once kept him on his knees, carrying every soul before the Father with tears, faith, and persevering love (cf. Rom. 9:1–3; Col. 1:24). St. Alphonsus Liguori taught that the true shepherd measures his ministry by the salvation of souls rather than personal success. St. John Vianney often wept after hearing confessions because he knew each soul possessed eternal value . During the plague, St. Charles Borromeo tirelessly sought out the sick, longing above all that they might receive the sacraments and die reconciled with God (cf. Jas 5:14–15; Mt 9:36).  Scripture (cf. Jer. 9:1) presents another heartbreaking image in the prophet Jeremiah, whose eyes became fountains of tears because God's people were spiritually lost . Christ asks why His ministers often sleep peacefully while He continues agonizing over every soul tempted to despair, every dying sinner postponing repentance, every young priest secretly losing faith, every religious sister slowly becoming consumed by routine. The shepherd who truly shares the Heart of Jesus cannot remain spiritually comfortable while heaven and hell continue to confront souls every hour (cf. Heb. 13:17; Ezek. 33:7–9).

The appeal then reaches an almost unbearable sorrow: "They do not defend Me. Instead they step on Me and allow everything." These words unveil a hidden form of betrayal that rarely makes headlines because it unfolds quietly, one compromise at a time . It begins when love gradually yields to comfort, truth to human respect, and prayer to routine, until the heart no longer resists what it once rejected (cf. Rev 2:4–5; Mt 24:12). Such infidelity is often invisible to others, yet it deeply wounds the Heart of Christ, who continually calls His servants back to their first love and wholehearted fidelity . Jesus does not first accuse His ministers of attacking Him but of no longer protecting what belongs to Him. Throughout His earthly life, (cf. Ps. 41:9; Jn. 13:18–30) Christ willingly accepted persecution from His enemies, yet His deepest wounds came from those closest to Him . The same mystery continues today. Every time a priest celebrates the Holy Eucharist hurriedly, speaking the sacred words with the same tone used for ordinary conversation, Christ experiences a poverty of love where there should be profound reverence . Every time perpetual adoration is quietly abandoned because "people are too busy," Jesus remains alone in the tabernacle, (cf. Mt. 26:40–45) waiting with the same patience He showed in Gethsemane while His closest friends slept . Every time a confessional remains locked for weeks because administrative work appears more urgent than reconciling sinners with God, souls drift further into darkness. Every time a homily deliberately avoids speaking about conversion, sin, judgment, purity, or the Cross to avoid complaints, (cf. 2 Tim. 4:2–4) Christ's own words are quietly set aside in favor of human approval . Whenever a religious superior sees a community slowly becoming worldly yet remains silent out of fear of disturbing a false peace, Christ's voice is left unheard (cf. Ezek 33:7–9; Gal 1:10). Whenever seminarians are formed in knowledge but not in prolonged Eucharistic prayer, the foundations of future priesthood are weakened (cf. Jn 15:4–5; CCC 1378). 

St. Peter Damian courageously confronted corruption among the clergy, knowing that silence before spiritual illness is not charity but neglect. St. Catherine of Siena urged bishops and even the Pope to return to holiness because renewal begins with converted shepherds . St. Peter Julian Eymard devoted his life to rekindling Eucharistic love, convinced that the Church's deepest poverty was hearts that no longer adored Christ truly present in the Blessed Sacrament . Scripture (cf. Num. 25:6–13) offers the striking example of Phinehas, (cf. 1 Sam 1:3 ; 2:12) whose burning zeal defended God's holiness when others remained passive . Likewise, the young prophet Samuel refused to permit God's word to fall to the ground through negligence (cf. 1 Sam. 3:19). Our Adorable Jesus reveals that ministers do not wound Him only through grave personal sin. They also do so whenever human respect outweighs fidelity to the Gospel, silence replaces courageous charity, comfort prevails over sacrificial love, or preserving appearances becomes more important than defending the truth and the Eucharistic Heart of Christ . The deepest sorrow is that Jesus is often left abandoned not by strangers, but by those called to stand closest to His altar and shepherd His flock .

The words "My arm falls inexorably" reveal one of the most misunderstood mysteries of God's dealings with humanity. Jesus is not describing the exhaustion of His omnipotence but the sorrow of a Father whose offered mercy is repeatedly resisted by those entrusted with dispensing it. Throughout Sacred Scripture, God's "arm" symbolizes His saving power stretched out to rescue His people (cf. Ex. 15:16; Isa. 52:10). Yet there are moments when that saving arm appears to withdraw, not because God ceases to love, but because human freedom continually rejects His invitations. This sorrow becomes even more painful when the resistance comes from Christ's own ministers. A priest who gradually neglects daily mental prayer may continue preaching eloquently, yet his words slowly lose the warmth born of intimate friendship with Jesus . A bishop who fears public opinion more than the Gospel may preserve outward peace while leaving souls without clear spiritual guidance (cf. Acts 5:29; Gal 1:10). A religious superior who avoids necessary correction to remain liked can unintentionally allow spiritual complacency to spread . Likewise, a novice mistress who notices a young sister growing attached to comfort, distractions, or human approval, yet delays loving intervention, risks allowing small compromises to weaken a vocation meant to belong wholly to Christ . Jesus says otherwise. Every neglected inspiration of the Holy Spirit allows another opportunity for grace to pass. Eli watched the gradual corruption of his priestly sons until judgment reached his entire household (cf. 1 Sam. 2:22–36). King Saul repeatedly excused partial obedience until his heart became incapable of hearing God with simplicity (cf. 1 Sam. 15:13–23). The Catechism (cf. CCC 1865; CCC 2001) teaches that repeated resistance to grace gradually hardens the heart and dulls its sensitivity to God's voice . St. Bernard of Clairvaux observed that souls rarely fall all at once; they first lose their spiritual attentiveness.  Christ's lament is therefore profoundly human: He grieves not only great sins, but the slow drifting of hearts that once loved Him deeply (cf. Rev 2:4–5; Mt 24:12). He watches priests who were once inflamed with Eucharistic love slowly become professional functionaries. He sees deacons who once embraced joyful poverty gradually become preoccupied with comfort, possessions, influence, or personal projects. He sees friars who once desired sanctity become absorbed by material possessions, titles, or intellectual prestige. His arm "falls" because those chosen to cooperate with His grace increasingly cooperate with themselves. The deepest sorrow is not that Christ ceases acting, but that His chosen instruments no longer allow Him to act freely through them.

The appeal reaches its most piercing climax: "Many of them do not believe My words." Our Adorable Jesus speaks of something far more frightening than doctrinal disbelief. He reveals a practical unbelief that quietly enters consecrated life when His words are still professed with the lips but are no longer lived as eternal realities (cf. Mt 15:8; Jas 1:22). The greatest danger is not openly denying Christ, but gradually living as though His promises, warnings, and commandments no longer shape daily decisions . A priest may profess belief in the Real Presence yet rush through thanksgiving after Mass because appointments seem more important than remaining with the One he has just held in his hands . A bishop may sincerely profess the Gospel yet allow fear of criticism to soften the proclamation of difficult truths (cf. Acts 20:27; Gal 1:10). A confessor may hesitate to call a penitent to genuine conversion out of fear of being rejected . A religious community may faithfully observe its rule while quietly measuring success by security, influence, or numbers rather than holiness (cf. Mt 6:33; Phil 3:7–8). Our Adorable Jesus does not ask whether His ministers can explain His words with eloquence, but whether they believe and live them with undivided hearts, loving truth more than approval and souls more than comfort . If they truly believed that one soul is worth more than the whole world , parish schedules would revolve first around confession, adoration, preaching, and the dying. If they truly believed that every Eucharist makes present the sacrifice of Calvary (cf. Lk. 22:19–20; CCC 1366–1367), no liturgy would ever become routine. If they truly believed that the devil continually seeks to destroy souls , they would never become spiritually casual. Scripture presents the moving contrast between Josiah, whose heart trembled upon hearing God's word and immediately sought reform (cf. 2 Kgs. 22:11–13), and King Zedekiah, who repeatedly heard Jeremiah yet lacked the courage to obey (cf. Jer. 38:14–28). The difference was not knowledge but belief.

Our Adorable Jesus calls every priest, bishop, deacon, seminarian, religious, consecrated soul, and every soul to return to the hidden simplicity of childlike faith, where every word from His Sacred Heart is received, contemplated, and lived with complete trust . The Church's deepest renewal begins not in human achievement but in souls transformed by the Eucharist, surrendered to the Holy Spirit, and conformed to Christ from within . It will begin when hearts are renewed by grace and ministers once again depend entirely upon Christ, allowing His presence, His mercy, and His truth to shape every aspect of their lives and mission . It will begin above all with hearts wholly surrendered to Christ—hearts that love His Eucharistic Presence more than success, seek holiness more than recognition, cherish prayer more than activity, and value the salvation of souls above every earthly ambition . Then Christ's ministers will become more than administrators or teachers; they will become living icons of the Good Shepherd, allowing His compassion, purity, and sacrificial love to shine through their lives . Their preaching will flow from contemplation, their authority from holiness, their service from Eucharistic communion, and their hidden sacrifices will quietly draw countless souls toward God .Such lives become living Gospels, proclaiming more powerfully than the most eloquent sermons that Our Adorable Jesus alone is the source of eternal life (cf. Jn 6:68), and that no soul which abandons itself entirely to His mercy and truth will ever be disappointed or put to shame .

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, renew Your priests and consecrated souls in childlike faith, Eucharistic love, and unwavering fidelity. Fill them with the Holy Spirit , that they may courageously proclaim Your truth, shepherd Your flock after Your Heart, and joyfully spend themselves for Your glory and the salvation of souls . Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 149

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME 1

“Souls have united themselves to the devil.”

“My daughter, listen to the cry from My Divine Mercy. I speak to you. Continue to pray and speak to souls for all the evil they do. My Eternal Father’s wrath is overflowing. They have united themselves to the devil. My ministers are worriless and tranquil. They do not defend Me. Instead they step on Me and allow everything. My arm falls inexorably. Many of them do not believe My words.

Days of darkness will cover the earth. It will tremble because of its own sins. It will bring you from one end of the earth to the other so that you may preach My message. I am warning mankind. I give you the words to speak and I give you light to see their consciences. I counsel you so that you may act before those days are reached whereby churches will be destroyed and the... will be trampled upon. I want to save the souls of humanity. I have nothing more precious than the souls of mankind. Pray a great deal, listen to Me and be attentive. I shed tears of blood over humanity. The world is full of terror.”

“I bless you.”

2.00 a.m., 22nd 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).

Jesus Drawing Us Strongly to Prayer

Divine Appeal Reflection - 148

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 148: "I will always draw you strongly to prayer. This will cause you many tears and humiliations. You will have to follow My painful path for the good of souls."

One of the deepest mysteries hidden in this appeal is that God often draws a soul to prayer long before He entrusts it with His greatest works. Jesus does not merely command us to pray; He promises, "I will always draw you strongly to prayer." These words reveal that authentic prayer begins not with human effort but with divine attraction. Before a soul seeks God, (cf. Jer 31:3; Jn 6:44; CCC 2567) God has already begun seeking that soul with infinite tenderness . The Father quietly rearranges circumstances, disappointments, unexpected joys, unanswered questions, hidden sufferings, and even apparent failures so that the heart gradually discovers that only He can satisfy its deepest hunger . Prayer is therefore less a human achievement than a response to being lovingly pursued by Christ. Scripture repeatedly unveils this divine strategy. Baruch, Jeremiah's faithful companion, lamented that his life seemed filled with sorrow and disappointment. Yet God called him not to seek greatness, (cf. Jer 45:1–5) but to remain faithful in the mission entrusted to him . Every dream of recognition seemed to disappear. Yet instead of restoring his earthly ambitions, God gently invited him to surrender them completely, teaching him that intimacy with God was a far greater gift than worldly success . Likewise, Anna the prophetess (cf. Lk 2:36-38) spent decades in hidden prayer after the heartbreak of widowhood. Scripture records neither visions nor extraordinary miracles during those long years. Yet those silent decades prepared her eyes to recognize the Infant Messiah while priests, scholars, and political leaders passed Him without understanding who He was . Her contemplation became the fruit of perseverance rather than extraordinary experiences. Joseph of Arimathea likewise remained hidden for years, quietly cultivating interior fidelity until the darkest day in history demanded courageous love. When nearly everyone fled Calvary, (cf. Jn 19:38-42) the man who had first learned silence before God became bold before Pilate . Prayer had slowly formed a courage that public activity alone could never produce.

This attraction continues quietly in ordinary lives. A surgeon who can no longer carry the weight of failure finds himself praying in an empty chapel for the first time in years (cf. Ps 34:18). A grandmother gradually forgets names, yet the Rosary remains alive within her heart, revealing that grace reaches deeper than memory (cf. Rom 8:26–27). A respected lecturer discovers that success cannot satisfy the soul and lingers silently before the tabernacle . A fisherman, after months of failed harvests, learns to entrust tomorrow to God's providence instead of despair (cf. Mt 6:31–34). These are not coincidences but quiet invitations of Christ, gently drawing hearts back to Himself .They are the gentle fingerprints of grace. Jesus often draws us through what the world calls interruption, (cf. Rom 8:28; CCC 2560) while heaven calls it invitation .Blessed Maria Candida of the Eucharist taught that prolonged Eucharistic silence slowly teaches the soul to hear God's voice beneath ordinary life rather than only within extraordinary moments. This is the meaning of Christ's promise. He will always draw the soul—not by force but by love, not by spectacle but by quiet attraction, until prayer ceases to be something we do and becomes the very atmosphere in which we live .

Jesus immediately adds a surprising consequence to this attraction: "This will cause you many tears."  These tears are not signs of emotional fragility but evidence that the Holy Spirit is softening what years of self-protection have hardened . Before authentic prayer, many people cry because life hurts them. After entering deeply into prayer, they begin to cry because they have started seeing with the Heart of Christ. Prayer changes not only what we ask from God but what we are capable of feeling before Him.The Bible reveals remarkable examples of these hidden tears. Tobit, (cf. Tob 3:1-6; 11:7-15) blinded and humiliated, reached a point where he no longer understood God's providence. Yet his suffering became the very place where heaven quietly prepared healing, not only for his eyes but for his entire family . His tears purified hope. Epaphras, (cf. Col 4:12-13) almost unnoticed in the New Testament, is remembered because he wrestled continuously in prayer for believers he loved, carrying entire Christian communities within his heart before God . His ministry was largely invisible, yet heaven measured it as immense. Even Queen Esther, (cf. Est 4:15-17) before entering the king's presence to save her people, first entered the hidden sanctuary of fasting, tears, and surrender, recognizing that no human influence could replace dependence upon God .  These tears appear quietly in modern life. A father kneels beside the empty bedroom of a son imprisoned because of drugs. For years he tried advice, anger, financial help, and persuasion. Now words have ended. Only tears remain. Unknown to him, those silent nights become his greatest apostolate before God. A parish priest finishes celebrating Sunday Mass surrounded by smiling parishioners, yet later remains alone before the tabernacle, weeping because he knows many receive Holy Communion without recognizing the immeasurable Gift before them . A young woman who once dreamed of marriage quietly accepts that God may be calling her to another path. Her tears are not rebellion but the painful surrender of beautiful dreams into wiser Hands. A hospice volunteer holds the trembling hand of a dying stranger whose family never comes. Driving home, she cannot stop weeping—not from despair but because she has encountered Christ hidden within human loneliness . These tears are deeply Eucharistic. They teach the soul to love without demanding visible success. Such tears do not weaken the Christian. They reveal that Christ has begun sharing His own Heart. Every tear offered in loving prayer becomes, through grace, a hidden drop in the river of mercy flowing from Calvary into a wounded world .

Perhaps the most difficult words in this appeal are not the tears but the humiliations. Jesus does not say they may come; He says that being drawn deeply into prayer will cause them. This reveals one of the hidden laws of the spiritual life: the closer a soul comes to God, the less it is allowed to build its identity upon itself . Prayer gradually uncovers the subtle pride that ordinary activity often conceals. A person may appear generous, faithful, or holy before others while secretly depending upon admiration, success, efficiency, or the opinion of others. The light of contemplative prayer exposes these hidden attachments, not to discourage the soul but to free it for pure love . God's greatest obstacle is rarely great sin in advanced souls; it is the quiet desire to remain important. Scripture reveals this mysterious purification. Gideon was called while hiding in fear, and even after receiving God's promise, the Lord reduced his army from thousands to only three hundred men so that the victory would reveal divine power rather than human strength (cf. Judg 6:11–16; 7:1–8). Humanly speaking, this appeared humiliating and irrational. Yet God wished Israel to know that victory belonged entirely to Him rather than to human strength . Likewise, Naaman, commander of the Syrian army,  (cf. 2 Kgs 5:9-14) expected an extraordinary miracle worthy of his dignity. Instead, God healed him through the humiliating simplicity of washing repeatedly in the Jordan . The greatest obstacle was not the river but his pride. Even the Canaanite woman, though apparently ignored and tested by Jesus, (cf. Mt 15:21-28) persevered in humble faith until her trust was publicly praised before all . Heaven often permits humiliations because humility can receive graces that pride cannot even recognize . These hidden trials unfold in ordinary life. A gifted preacher sees little visible fruit from years of faithful preaching (cf. Is 55:10–11). A mother sacrifices daily for her family yet is often misunderstood by those she loves most . A businessman loses an important contract because he refuses corruption (cf. Prov 10:9). A student who defends the dignity of human life becomes the object of ridicule (cf. Mt 5:11–12). Yet none of these humiliations are signs of God's absence. Rather, they are often the quiet path by which Christ purifies love, deepens trust, and conforms the soul to His own humble Heart (cf. Phil 2:5–8; Rom 8:29; CCC 520). Rather, Christ is quietly removing the need to be applauded so that love itself becomes the reward .  Every humiliation accepted with charity loosens another chain binding the heart to self-love. Slowly the soul becomes free—not because people finally appreciate it, but because it no longer needs to be appreciated to love. Such a soul has begun sharing the humility of the Crucified One .

One of the greatest paradoxes of this appeal is that the tears and humiliations born from prayer never remain merely personal. Christ transforms them into channels of grace for countless souls. The contemplative life is therefore never self-enclosed. Hidden union with Jesus quietly overflows into the salvation of others, often without the person ever knowing whom they have helped . The soul drawn into prayer gradually begins carrying the burdens of strangers with the tenderness of Christ Himself. This mystery appears beautifully in Scripture through Moses after Israel worshipped the golden calf. Rather than separating himself from a sinful people, (cf. Ex 32:30-32) he entered profound intercession, pleading before God even at the cost of his own destiny . Likewise, Queen Esther (cf. Est 5:1-2) accepted the humiliation of risking rejection before the king because she loved a people who might never know the price of her courage . Their hidden suffering became the doorway through which mercy reached multitudes. Prayer had enlarged their hearts beyond themselves. This same mystery unfolds quietly today. A retired teacher offers every painful medical treatment for young people who have abandoned the faith, though she will never know their names. A cloistered nun faithfully rises each night for the Divine Office while wars rage across the world; unseen by history, her intercession strengthens missionaries, protects struggling families, and obtains conversions known only to God. A mechanic quietly offers each day of exhausting labour for seminarians who feel discouraged. A teenager patiently caring for a disabled sibling becomes an unseen missionary of Christ's compassion within the walls of an ordinary home. These hidden offerings seem insignificant to the world, yet heaven measures them differently .  Jesus therefore teaches that tears shed in prayer and humiliations accepted with love become seeds planted in the Heart of God. Long after the tears have dried, their fruits continue appearing in conversions, reconciled families, renewed vocations, strengthened priests, and souls preserved from despair. Contemplation quietly becomes mission .

The final fruit of this appeal is astonishing. Jesus does not draw souls into prayer simply to make them holier; He draws them so that they may become His hidden Heart beating within the Church and the world. The contemplative soul gradually begins to see as Christ sees, love as Christ loves, forgive as Christ forgives, and hope as Christ hopes . Prayer slowly ceases to be an activity and becomes a new way of existing. The soul no longer asks merely, "Lord, help me," but, "Lord, let my life become available for whatever consoles Your Heart and saves souls." This spirit is seen in  Nehemiah, whose heart was broken by the ruin of Jerusalem before he was sent to rebuild it (cf. Neh 1:3–11; 2:1–8). It is fulfilled in Epaphroditus, who nearly died while serving Christ and His Church without seeking recognition (cf. Phil 2:25–30). Such souls no longer live for themselves but become quiet co-workers in Christ's redeeming love, carrying His concerns before the Father for the good of many (cf. Rom 14:7–8; 2 Cor 5:14–15; CCC 2634). Their contemplative lives made them spiritually perceptive. Prayer had purified their vision. The world often celebrates those who change history publicly, yet heaven treasures those whose hidden fidelity prepares history for God's action. Today this hidden vocation continues everywhere. A parish sacristan who lovingly prepares the altar before dawn may deepen the reverence of an entire congregation without ever speaking a word . A prisoner who sincerely repents and offers each lonely day for victims of violence mysteriously shares in Christ's work of reconciliation, allowing grace to reach hearts far beyond the prison walls . An elderly man forgotten in a nursing home becomes spiritually fruitful by offering each hour for families breaking apart. These people may never appear in books or headlines, yet they become hidden pillars supporting the Church through grace rather than recognition (cf. 1 Cor 12:22-26).  The tears and humiliations are not the destination but the path. They gradually empty the soul of self until Christ alone remains. This is the highest fruit of contemplation: not extraordinary experiences, but an ordinary life so transformed by grace that Christ quietly continues His saving work through it until the end of time 

Prayer 

Our Adorable Jesus, continue drawing us into the prayer that purifies through tears and perfects through humiliations. Empty us of pride until Your Heart alone lives within us. May every hidden sacrifice console You, strengthen Your Church, and obtain mercy for countless souls. Amen.

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

Mankind Submerged in the Muddy Tide

Divine Appeal Reflection - 148

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 148: "What a sorrow! Mankind is submerged in the muddy tide. Corruption tries to drown the world in tears of blood. I beg you to pray and suffer for souls. Sacrifice yourself however painful it is."

One of the most piercing words in this appeal is "submerged." Our Adorable Jesus does not simply lament that humanity occasionally falls into corruption; He grieves that many souls have become so immersed in it that they no longer realize they are drowning . Like someone who has lived too long beneath polluted waters and forgotten the freshness of clean air, the human heart can slowly grow accustomed to lies, impurity, selfishness, dishonesty, and indifference until they seem normal . This is the tragedy of every age: evil rarely conquers through dramatic rebellion before it first enters through small compromises, repeated choices, and a conscience that gradually loses its sensitivity to God (cf. Gen 3:1–7; Jas 1:14–15; CCC 1791). Yet Christ continues calling every soul out of these muddy waters into the freedom, purity, and joy of His light, where repentance restores what sin has slowly buried (cf. Jn 8:12; 1 Pet 2:9; Rev 2:4–5; CCC 1430–1432). Samson did not truly lose his strength on the day his hair was cut; he had begun losing it much earlier when he started treating temptation as something he could control rather than flee. Little by little, he became comfortable with compromises he had once resisted, assuming he could always return to God whenever he wished . The most tragic moment in his story is not the loss of his strength but the realization that he did not even know the Lord had departed from him . Spiritual blindness had already taken root before spiritual defeat became visible (cf. Heb 3:12–13; CCC 1865). The same pattern appears in King Solomon. He did not awaken one morning with a heart divided against God. Gradually, political alliances, worldly success, comfort, admiration, and small concessions weakened the love that had once sought divine wisdom above all else until he could no longer distinguish God's will from the spirit of the world (cf. 1 Kgs 3:9–12; 11:1–10; Jas 4:4). Corruption almost always advances this way. It rarely shouts; it whispers. It rarely destroys overnight; it slowly numbs the conscience, making each compromise seem insignificant until the soul discovers it has drifted far from its first love .

This same muddy tide quietly surrounds modern life. A husband does not usually abandon his family in one decision. Corruption often begins long before anyone notices it. A husband rarely abandons his family all at once. He first becomes emotionally absent, replacing meaningful conversations with endless work, then endless screens, until strangers know his thoughts better than his wife (cf. Eph 5:25–33; Col 3:19). A seminarian may begin with a sincere desire to save souls, yet gradually become more concerned with recognition, influence, or pleasing others than with growing in holiness and intimacy with Christ . A mother may generously provide every material comfort for her children while, burdened by constant anxiety and distraction, unknowingly deprive them of the peaceful presence they long for most . The heart seldom drifts from God through one great decision, but through many unnoticed compromises that slowly replace love with routine and communion with distraction . A religious sister may faithfully observe every rule while silently losing the joy of belonging entirely to Christ. A successful professional may slowly become incapable of praying because productivity has become his true measure of worth. None of these people intended to reject God. They simply became submerged. Like fish unaware of the water surrounding them, many Christians no longer notice that constant entertainment has replaced recollection, endless opinions have replaced truth, and relentless noise has replaced the silence where God speaks . St. Mary of Egypt spent years immersed in sin until one encounter before the Holy Cross revealed not merely her actions but the condition of her heart, leading her into decades of hidden holiness in the desert. St. Benedict Joseph Labre, mocked as a wandering beggar, showed that the purest heart often belongs to the soul least fascinated by the world's muddy waters. Christ's sorrow is therefore profoundly human. He does not merely see sinners breaking commandments; He sees beloved children forgetting what it feels like to breathe the pure air of grace. His lament is the grief of a Father watching His children mistake the mud for their home .

Another deeply mystical dimension of this appeal is that Jesus calls corruption a muddy tide, not a violent wave. A wave crashes suddenly. A tide silently rises. The vast majority of souls are ruined by thousands of small compromises that gradually deform their loves rather than by dramatic moments of defiance.  Scripture offers countless examples. King Asa began as one of Judah's holiest rulers,(cf. 2 Chr 14:2-5) courageously destroying idols and leading national renewal . Yet later, instead of trusting God during crisis, he relied entirely upon political alliances and human calculations, eventually becoming angry even with God's prophet (cf. 2 Chr 16:7-10). His decline was not caused by one catastrophe but by the gradual substitution of self-reliance for dependence upon God. Likewise, Demas, once a companion of St. Paul,(cf. 2 Tim 4:10) eventually abandoned the mission because love for the present world quietly replaced love for Christ . Nothing suggests that Demas became openly wicked overnight. His affections simply drifted elsewhere. Every corruption begins when something finite slowly occupies the place reserved for God alone.

This mystery unfolds silently in ordinary life. A doctor may begin his career seeing every patient as a sacred person created in God's image, yet years of routine can reduce human beings to medical files and appointments. A Catholic teacher may gradually care more about examination results than forming virtuous souls. Parents may provide excellent schools, holidays, and opportunities for their children while never praying with them, unknowingly preparing them for professional success but spiritual emptiness. A parish may become busy with meetings, fundraising, and activities while slowly forgetting that its first mission is adoration before Christ in the Eucharist . Even generous Catholics may defend every doctrine of the faith while becoming impatient, harsh, and incapable of mercy toward those who struggle. This is the muddy tide: religion without conversion, activity without contemplation, knowledge without charity, success without holiness .  Blessed Vladimir Ghika remained spiritually incorruptible amid political persecution because he had first learned to surrender every attachment except Christ. He teachs that the antidote to corruption is not merely denouncing darkness but becoming so deeply united with Jesus that His purity quietly reshapes every environment one enters. One truly holy soul often purifies an entire family, parish, workplace, or nation because holiness spreads more deeply than corruption wherever Christ is welcomed .

Perhaps the deepest tragedy hidden within this appeal is not that corruption multiplies sins, but that it gradually disfigures the image of God within the human person. From the beginning, man was created not merely to exist but to reflect the beauty, wisdom, holiness, and love of the Creator . Every virtue restores that image; every deliberate sin obscures it. Corruption therefore is not simply moral failure—it is the slow distortion of the face God intended every soul to reveal. This mystery appears strikingly in King Uzziah. He began his reign seeking God with humility, and the Lord blessed his kingdom abundantly. Yet success slowly intoxicated him until pride entered the sanctuary itself, and the very king whose face once reflected God's favor left the Temple marked by leprosy, (cf. 2 Chr 26:3-21) an outward sign of an interior corruption that had long preceded it . Likewise, Nebuchadnezzar, whose pride exalted him above all nations, eventually lost the dignity of reason and lived like a beast until he humbled himself before God . Scripture reveals that corruption first dehumanizes before it destroys. The person created for communion slowly becomes isolated; the heart created for gratitude becomes entitled; the soul made for contemplation becomes incapable of silence. This same drama unfolds quietly today. A businessman who once entered his profession desiring to serve society gradually measures every relationship by profit. A gifted musician begins creating beauty but eventually seeks only applause. A young influencer who once desired to inspire others slowly becomes imprisoned by the need for constant approval. Even generous Christians can begin serving Christ while secretly seeking recognition more than hidden fidelity. The greatest danger is not public scandal but the unnoticed erosion of the interior life. St. Angela of Foligno taught that every attachment not surrendered to God slowly reshapes the soul according to itself rather than according to Christ. St. Gregory of Nyssa described the spiritual life as the continual restoration of the divine image through grace. Jesus therefore mourns because corruption does not merely violate commandments; it slowly hides the beauty His Father lovingly created within every human soul .

The words "tears of blood" reveal a mystery rarely contemplated deeply enough: God suffers not because His power is diminished, but because His love is continually refused. Throughout Scripture, divine sorrow is always the sorrow of faithful love meeting persistent indifference. The prophet Samuel spent an entire night grieving over Saul, not because Saul had disappointed him personally, (cf. 1 Sam 15:10-11, 35) but because he witnessed the tragedy of a heart slowly separating itself from God . Likewise, David wept bitterly over Absalom, (cf. 2 Sam 18:33) his rebellious son, longing for reconciliation even after betrayal . These human experiences prepare us to glimpse the infinitely deeper sorrow of Christ. Every soul created by the Father has been imagined from eternity, redeemed by the Blood of the Son, and continually pursued by the Holy Spirit . Yet countless people pass through life without ever responding to that love. Christ's tears therefore are not primarily tears over sin itself but over love that remains unanswered. Consider how deeply human this is. Parents often suffer most not when children fail academically but when they no longer wish to speak with them. A husband or wife can endure poverty, illness, and hardship more easily than indifference from the beloved. Similarly, the deepest sorrow of Our Adorable Jesus is that many hearts no longer long for Him (cf. Jn 1:10–11; Rev 3:20). Countless people do not reject God openly; they simply live as though He were unnecessary, allowing days to pass without prayer, gratitude, or love (cf. Deut 6:5; CCC 2094). Blessed Maria Gabriella Sagheddu offered her hidden life for Christian unity, while St. Margaret of Cortona discovered that no earthly love could satisfy the heart apart from Christ . Every Holy Hour, sincere repentance, and hidden sacrifice consoles His Eucharistic Heart by allowing rejected Love to be welcomed once more .

The final hope contained in this appeal is that God never combats corruption by merely removing evil; He overcomes it by creating saints. Darkness is not defeated by arguing with darkness but by increasing light . Throughout salvation history, God repeatedly answered widespread corruption by quietly preparing one faithful soul. While Egypt oppressed Israel, (cf. Ex 3:1-10) He formed Moses in the hidden desert . While idolatry spread throughout Israel,(cf. 1 Sam 3:1-10)  He quietly prepared young Samuel in the silence of the sanctuary . While the world awaited redemption, He prepared an unknown Virgin in Nazareth whose hidden "yes" changed history forever . God still works this way. When society becomes noisier, He raises contemplatives. When impurity spreads, He forms souls of radiant chastity. When dishonesty becomes normal, He quietly strengthens men and women whose integrity remains unshaken. A forgotten grandfather faithfully blessing his grandchildren each evening, a nurse praying silently before entering every hospital room, a mechanic refusing dishonest work despite financial hardship, a university student defending an isolated classmate, a widow faithfully interceding before the tabernacle for priests she will never meet—these hidden acts participate in Christ's victory over corruption far more than the world imagines . St. Rafqa transformed years of blindness and physical suffering into an offering that strengthened countless souls. Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati climbed mountains while lifting discouraged souls toward heaven through ordinary friendship sanctified by grace. They reveal that holiness is profoundly contagious. One purified conscience awakens another. One courageous act of truth inspires countless others. One faithful family becomes a refuge for generations. The muddy tide may appear to cover the earth, (cf. Jn 4:14; Rev 22:1-2) but beneath its surface the Holy Spirit continues raising springs of living water that cannot be polluted . Christ's final answer to corruption has never been fear but sanctity. Every soul that allows itself to be transformed by grace becomes a living contradiction to the darkness and a quiet prophecy that the Kingdom of God is already breaking into the world (cf. Mt 13:31-33; CCC 2013-2016).

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, we behold Your tears of blood shed for a sinful world. Fill our hearts with love and courage to pray, sacrifice, and labor for the salvation of souls. May our lives bring You consolation and draw many back to Your merciful embrace.

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