Divine Appeal Reflection - 140
Today, consider in Divine Appeal 140: "Do not fear to put yourself in the high spirit of contemplation."
One of the most striking truths hidden within this appeal is that many souls are more comfortable serving God than belonging completely to Him. They willingly work, sacrifice, defend the faith, and engage in apostolic activity, yet hesitate when Jesus invites them into deeper intimacy . Contemplation can feel unsettling because it requires surrender. It places the soul before God without achievements, roles, or masks, allowing Him to see and love it in its poverty and truth . Many fear not what God may ask of them, but what He may reveal about them—and how deeply He desires to love them . Abraham (cf. Gen 12:1-4) was called to leave familiar securities before becoming the father of faith . Jacob wrestled through the night and emerged transformed (cf. Gen 32:24-30). Moses (cf. Ex 24:15-18) ascended Sinai and remained hidden within the cloud of divine presence . Before speaking publicly, (cf. Lk 6:12; Mk 1:35) Jesus spent nights alone with the Father . The Catechism (cf. CCC 2564) teaches that prayer is fundamentally a covenant relationship between God and man . Yet many Christians unconsciously reduce prayer to requests, duties, formulas, and obligations. Jesus' appeal calls souls beyond this. He invites souls into the "high spirit" of contemplation, where prayer becomes communion rather than merely conversation . Many imagine contemplation belongs only to monasteries, convents, or secluded places, yet Jesus reveals something far more accessible and profound. It is learning to remain interiorly united to God amid the realities of ordinary life . A busy mother caring for her children, a priest carrying pastoral burdens, a student facing examinations, or a businessman surrounded by responsibilities can all live this contemplative spirit. The essence of contemplation is allowing God to become more real than the anxieties, fears, ambitions, and distractions that constantly compete for the heart's attention . As this communion deepens, the soul gradually discovers that God's presence is not reserved for moments of prayer alone, but can accompany every duty, suffering, decision, and encounter throughout the day .
A profound dimension of this appeal is that contemplation teaches souls to see reality through God's eyes rather than through human calculations. Most people spend their lives interpreting events according to immediate appearances. Success is viewed as blessing, failure as disaster, suffering as abandonment, and uncertainty as weakness. Yet contemplation gradually purifies this vision. Joseph, (cf. Gen 37:23-28; Gen 50:20) sold by his brothers, could have seen only betrayal, but through years of prayerful trust he discovered divine providence operating through apparent tragedy . Hannah (cf. 1 Sam 1:5-20) endured years of humiliation before witnessing God's hidden plan unfold . The disciples on the road to Emmaus (cf. Lk 24:13-35) interpreted the Crucifixion as failure until Christ opened their eyes to a deeper reality . Contemplation transforms perspective in the same way. A parent caring for a child with special needs may discover that what appears as limitation becomes a path of sanctification. A religious struggling with hidden dryness may realize that God is teaching pure faith beyond emotions (cf. Job 23:8-10). A widow enduring loneliness may encounter a deeper companionship with Christ than she ever imagined. A worker facing injustice may learn perseverance and trust through suffering .The contemplative person begins to understand that God's greatest works are often hidden beneath appearances. This vision does not remove suffering but transfigures it. The soul learns to recognize grace where others see only difficulties and discovers that divine providence is often most active when it appears absent (cf. Rom 8:28; CCC 302-314).
Another extraordinary dimension of contemplation is that it becomes the place where God gently dismantles false versions of ourselves in order to reveal the identity He has always known and loved . Many people spend years building their sense of worth upon reputation, achievements, intelligence, ministry, relationships, possessions, influence, or even spiritual accomplishments. Yet these foundations remain fragile because they depend upon realities that can be diminished, lost, misunderstood, or taken away . A change in circumstances, a personal failure, advancing age, criticism, disappointment, or unexpected suffering can suddenly expose how unstable such identities truly are. God therefore invites the soul to rest upon something deeper: not what it possesses, accomplishes, or appears to be, but the unchanging truth that it is known, loved, and called by Him . Scripture repeatedly reveals this pattern. Before Gideon became a deliverer of Israel, he first had to see himself through God's call rather than through his own fear and inadequacy (cf. Judg 6:11–16). Before Jeremiah could speak God's word, he was reminded that he had been known, chosen, and loved before birth (cf. Jer 1:4–8). Before Peter became the rock of the Church, he had to experience the painful collapse of self-reliance through denial, tears, and repentance, discovering that his mission would rest upon grace rather than personal strength . For this reason, contemplation is often uncomfortable before it becomes consoling.
In silence, illusions begin to surface. The soul gradually discovers how much peace depends upon human approval, how much confidence depends upon success, and how much identity rests upon realities that can disappear overnight . Yet this unveiling is not cruel. It is an act of divine mercy. Our Adorable Jesus removes false securities not to impoverish the soul, but to free it from everything that prevents it from resting in the unchanging truth that it is known, loved, and held by God before all achievement, failure, praise, or recognition . This is why modern society fears silence. Noise allows people to escape themselves. Contemplation does the opposite. It places the soul before the truth. Yet Christ never reveals wounds in order to condemn. He reveals them in order to heal. A successful professional may discover hidden pride. A devoted parent may uncover excessive control. A priest may realize that activity has replaced intimacy with God. A religious may find that obedience still conceals self-will. St. Catherine of Siena called the knowledge of self and God the two rooms in which sanctity is formed. In contemplation, false identities gradually die so that the soul may discover its deepest identity as a beloved child of the Father .
The appeal also possesses an intensely Eucharistic and apostolic dimension. Many imagine contemplation as withdrawal from mission, but Scripture reveals the opposite. Every great apostolic mission flows from contemplation. Isaiah first beheld God's holiness before being sent to Israel (cf. Is 6:1-8). The Apostles first remained with Jesus before they preached to nations (cf. Mk 3:13-15). Mary Magdalene (cf. Jn 20:11-18) encountered the risen Lord before becoming the first witness of the Resurrection . The Eucharist reveals this mystery perfectly. Hidden beneath sacramental appearances, Jesus remains in perpetual contemplation of the Father while simultaneously pouring grace upon the world . St. Teresa of Calcutta frequently insisted that service separated from contemplation eventually risks becoming mere activism. Human beings were not created simply to work for God, but to remain with Him and receive from Him (cf. Mk 3:14; Jn 15:4–5). Many people today live under constant pressure, carrying anxieties, responsibilities, disappointments, and expectations that were never meant to rest entirely upon their own shoulders . As a result, activity multiplies while interior peace diminishes. The contemplative soul learns another way. A teacher enters the classroom carrying not only lesson plans but the peace received in prayer (cf. Jn 14:27). A doctor treats suffering patients while remaining interiorly united to Christ, drawing compassion from Him rather than solely from personal reserves . A husband returns home after a demanding day and responds with patience instead of frustration because grace has slowly transformed his heart through prayer (cf. Eph 4:31–32). A missionary perseveres amid difficulties because strength flows from Eucharistic adoration rather than human enthusiasm alone . Contemplation does not diminish apostolic zeal; (cf. Lk 10:38–42; CCC 2712) it purifies, strengthens, and orders it . The soul gradually ceases working merely for God and begins working with God. The difference is immense. One often produces exhaustion because everything depends upon human effort; the other produces fruitfulness because the soul learns to cooperate with divine grace . Every tabernacle therefore becomes a hidden school where Christ teaches souls the wisdom of union before action, teaching them that the deepest transformations in the world begin with hearts transformed in His Presence .
At the highest mystical level, Jesus reveals that contemplation is preparation for eternity itself. The fear He addresses in this appeal ultimately arises because contemplation leads toward complete surrender. Human nature fears losing control. Yet every saint discovered that surrender is not loss but fulfillment. Enoch (cf. Gen 5:24) walked so closely with God that his entire life became a journey of communion . The Psalmist (cf. Ps 63:1-8) thirsted for God more than earthly security . Mary (cf. Lk 2:19, 51) lived continually in the presence of God, treasuring His mysteries within her heart . St. Elizabeth of the Trinity taught that the Christian soul is called to become a living dwelling place of the Blessed Trinity. This is the ultimate purpose of contemplation. It is not the pursuit of spiritual experiences but participation in divine life itself (cf. 2 Pet 1:4; CCC 460). Heaven will not consist primarily of activity but of perfect communion with God (cf. Rev 21:3-4; CCC 1023-1029). Every moment of authentic contemplation quietly anticipates humanity's eternal destiny: communion with God (cf. Jn 17:3; CCC 1023–1029). When a soul remains silently before the Blessed Sacrament, even without words, it is already learning the language of heaven, where love gazes upon Love without distraction . When suffering is accepted with trust rather than rebellion, the soul begins participating in Christ's own surrender to the Father (cf. Lk 22:42; Col 1:24). When hidden acts of charity are performed without recognition, the heart is gradually conformed to the self-giving love that fills eternity (cf. Mt 6:3–4; 1 Cor 13:4–8). Even resting peacefully in God's presence without seeking consolations becomes a quiet foretaste of the blessed vision for which every human heart was created . Do not fear silence. Do not fear surrender. Do not fear intimacy. Do not fear losing yourself in God. The heights of contemplation are not reserved for extraordinary mystics. They are the normal destiny of every soul courageous enough to allow divine love to possess it completely. There the soul discovers that the greatest adventure is not accomplishing great things for God but being drawn into the infinite depths of God Himself.
Prayer
Our Adorable Jesus, free us from every fear that prevents us from ascending the heights of Your love . Draw us from the distractions of earthly concerns into the sacred intimacy of Your Heart. Teach us to prefer Your presence above every consolation, Your will above every desire, and Your glory above every ambition. May the Blessed Trinity find within our souls a place of repose, transforming us into living tabernacles of divine love and contemplation . Amen.
Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.