A DIVINE APPEAL

Saturday, February 14, 2026

Divine Appeal 67

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME 1

“I never sleep.”

“My daughter, watch and pray. These are My difficult hours. Do not abandon My words. Implore mercy for sinners. Do not lose any of these precious times. In the Sacrament of My Love I am so much blasphemed and ridiculed. I implore you to watch in order to console Me. Make reparation and obtain mercy for sinners. I never sleep.

I am always watching and calling souls back to My sheepfold. I feel great pains to see My own... labouring hard to abolish the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. More than ever they are leading many souls
to perdition. It is My desire that everybody be saved. No one goes to hell without his own consent. I am agonizing over souls.”

3.05 a.m., 14th January 1988

Clinging to the Living Words of Jesus

Divine Appeal Reflection - 66

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 66: "Do not abandon My living words."

At the threshold where human strength collapses and every illusion of self-sufficiency dissolves, the soul stands before a single, unavoidable question — where can life itself be found? Not comfort that fades with circumstance, (cf. Jn 6:68; Jn 14:6) not meaning constructed by effort, not hope sustained merely by optimism, but life that does not erode, decay, or disappear . In that interior stripping, where all supports fall silent, the heart discovers that true life is not possessed, but received — not produced, but encountered — not sustained by human striving, but given by the One who remains when all else passes away (cf. Ps 73:25–26; 2 Cor 4:16–18). Here, at the edge of human limitation, the soul realizes that what it seeks is not relief from weakness, but communion with the Source of being itself — the Living Presence who alone endures when strength fails, certainty dissolves, and every created consolation slips from our grasp . This is the abyss from which the confession of Peter rises when confronted by the inexhaustible mystery of Jesus Christ (cf. Jn 6:68) “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.” . His words do not merely instruct — they generate existence at its deepest level. Scripture (cf. Gen 1:3; Heb 1:3) reveals divine speech as creative, sustaining, and life-giving from the beginning . The Church (cf. CCC 27) teaches that humanity is drawn by an interior hunger that only God can satisfy . Peter’s declaration is therefore not heroic devotion but existential realism. The soul cannot survive on fragments of truth or temporary meaning. It requires words that carry eternity within them. Every human pursuit — achievement, knowledge, recognition — ultimately exposes its insufficiency when confronted with mortality, suffering, and interior emptiness. Yet Christ’s words do not merely console these wounds; they penetrate them and transform them from within. To remain with Him is not preference but necessity. The living God speaks, and His speech sustains being itself. Without His word, life continues biologically but withers spiritually. With His word, existence becomes participation in divine vitality that does not fade.

This confession is born not from understanding but from encounter. Peter does not speak as one who has mastered the mystery, but as one who cannot live without the Presence that holds him within it . His confession is not intellectual certainty, but relational surrender — the humble recognition that life flows not from comprehension, but from communion. Divine truth rarely arrives as immediate clarity; more often it descends like a living fire — first overwhelming, then purifying, then quietly reshaping the heart before it illumines the mind . It unsettles what is false, loosens what we cling to, and strips away the illusion that understanding must come before trust . Only when the soul is humbled into openness does light begin to dawn — not as something grasped, but as something received, like sight gradually restored to the blind who learn first to believe before they fully see . This is the pattern of revelation throughout salvation history. Moses trembles before divine nearness (cf. Ex 3:6), (cf. Jer 20:9) and the prophets experience the word as fire within them .

The Catechism (cf. CCC 150) teaches that faith is a personal entrustment to God before it is intellectual comprehension . The human heart remains because it has tasted life that cannot be replaced. This is the drama of spiritual maturity: to remain where mystery exceeds explanation because presence exceeds understanding. St. Augustine of Hippo recognized that the heart wanders endlessly until anchored in divine reality. Modern life multiplies voices promising fulfillment — success, autonomy, control — yet each ultimately reveals its fragility. Christ’s words alone endure because they do not originate within the unstable conditions of the world. They arise from eternal being. To remain with Him is to accept that ultimate clarity does not arise from mastering truth, but from belonging to the One who speaks it . The soul stays not because everything is explained, but because it has recognized life where life truly is — a living Presence that sustains even when understanding falters (cf. Col 3:3–4). Faith, then, is not the possession of certainty, but the anchoring of the heart in communion; not the conquest of mystery, but abiding within it with trust . The depth of divine life often surpasses comprehension, yet the soul remains, drawn not by clarity alone but by recognition — the quiet knowing that here is the Source from which it came and toward which it is being drawn . In staying, the heart confesses that understanding may grow slowly, but belonging is immediate; and in belonging, light unfolds in its proper time.

The words of eternal life do not merely promise survival beyond death; they transfigure perception within time. They re-order how suffering, work, love, and sacrifice are understood. What appears burdensome becomes participatory; (cf. Rom 8:28; CCC 1996–2000) what appears hidden becomes fruitful; what appears ordinary becomes sacramental . Divine speech reshapes reality from within consciousness itself. Mary Mother of Jesus reveals this interior transformation perfectly. She receives the word not as information but as indwelling presence (cf. Lk 1:38). Because she receives deeply, reality itself becomes permeated with divine meaning. This is the destiny of every believer. When Christ’s words are received interiorly, nothing remains spiritually neutral. The workplace becomes an altar of fidelity. Family life becomes a school of sacrificial love. Hidden suffering becomes redemptive offering. The soul begins to perceive eternity not as distant future but as hidden dimension of present existence. The Church teaches that grace elevates human activity into participation in divine life (cf. CCC 2003). Eternal life is therefore not merely awaited — it unfolds wherever divine speech is welcomed. The believer who remains with Christ learns to see the world not through appearances but through divine intention. Life becomes luminous from within because His word has become interior light.

Yet the words of eternal life penetrate even more deeply — they transform the structure of love itself. They dismantle self-centered desire and awaken the capacity for self-gift. This interior transformation (cf. 2 Cor 5:17) is not psychological refinement but supernatural re-creation . The great mystics testify that divine speech purifies by revealing attachments that obscure true love. As St. Augustine teaches, the soul is purified when it turns from clinging to self and rests wholly in God’s love, discovering that true joy lies in surrender, not possession . St. Maximilian Kolbe shows that love reaches its fullness when it no longer preserves itself, but freely offers itself for another (cf. Jn 15:13). Eternal life manifests wherever the heart ceases to grasp and begins to pour itself out — where love is not possessed, but lived as total gift . In practical life, this appears in unnoticed forgiveness, perseverance without recognition, fidelity without emotional reward. Christ’s words generate a love that does not depend on circumstances because it participates in God’s own love (cf. CCC 1827). The soul that remains with Him discovers that true life is not preserved through self-protection but expanded through self-gift. His words do not merely instruct love — they create the capacity to love beyond human limits. Eternal life grows wherever divine love flows freely through a surrendered heart.

Thus Peter’s question echoes through every generation, confronting each soul with radical simplicity: where will you go for life that does not perish? Everything temporal eventually reveals its limits. Human strength weakens, understanding falters, and even noble pursuits cannot overcome mortality (cf. Ps 90:10). Yet divine speech endures because it flows from the eternal Word who remains present within His Church, (cf. CCC 1088; Jn 14:23) His sacraments, and the interior sanctuary of the soul . To remain with Christ is not merely to preserve belief but to remain within the source of being itself. His words do not describe life — they transmit it. Every act of listening becomes participation in divine vitality. Every act of obedience becomes union with eternal purpose. The soul that stays does not merely follow teaching; it dwells where existence itself is sustained. Peter’s confession becomes the foundation of all authentic discipleship: not that everything is understood, but that nowhere else is life found. The living Word continues speaking. Blessed is the soul that remains where eternity breathes.

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, where else could our souls live but in Your voice? Strip away every illusion that draws us from You. Let Your words penetrate our depths, purify our love, and sustain our being. Keep us always where eternal life flows — in Your presence, Your truth, Your living Word. Amen.

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

Friday, February 13, 2026

Divine Appeal 66

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME 1

“My Heart is in great pain.”

“My daughter, pray and do penance. Listen to what I tell you now and always. Don’t you realise that I have chosen you as an instrument? Even if it will cost you many tears, you must listen to Me and write down messages for Me. This is My work.

These are times of overwhelming violence. I need to give My warning before it is too late. You have to pray and accompany Me. Implore Mercy for sinners. My heart is in great pain. The souls I love so much do not understand. The tyrant has stolen their hearts, locking them in the prison of scandal and all kinds of malicious corruption. All devilish work; when labouring hard before My Holy Altars to abolish the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.

More than ever, immerse yourself in the most high spirit of contemplation. Cloister mankind in your heart. Pray, watch and atone. After receiving Me do not leave Me alone just like Judas. I am still sold and abused in the Sacrament of My Love. Heed My words and stick to what I tell you. Do not abandon My living words. Through My beloved servant I erect an altar in your heart. Pray without losing any time. I am pleased at the Masses of Atonement.”

“With my infinite Love I bless you.”

2.30 a.m., 12 January 1988

Ridicule and Neglect: The Hidden Sorrows of Jesus

Divine Appeal Reflection - 65

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 65: "I feel great pain to be neglected and ridiculed."

There is a quiet majesty in the Heart of Our Adorable Jesus, infinitely tender, infinitely patient, yet infinitely wounded when ignored and ridiculed. Every sneer at virtue, every cynical glance at mercy, every whispered joke at prayer pierces His Sacred Heart, echoing the mockery He endured from soldiers, scribes, and indifferent crowds . Yet neglect wounds even deeper: it is the slow erasure of presence, the fading of attention, the prayers unanswered, the devotions skipped, the small acts of love that go unseen, silently proclaiming,(cf. Rev 3:20; Isa 65:2; Lk 15:4) “You do not matter enough to be noticed” . In our distracted lives—when social media scrolls replace quiet prayer, hurried routines overshadow acts of charity, or family and friends fail to notice devotion—His Heart waits in patient sorrow, fully present yet quietly aching . Human neglect and ridicule do not diminish Him; instead, our hidden fidelity, patient love, and silent offering unite with His Sacred Heart, transforming pain into intimate union. Each unnoticed prayer, each blessing offered to those who scorn, becomes a luminous act of love, teaching the soul that fidelity to Christ is measured not by applause, but by enduring love, present even in silence and invisibility .

Ridicule differs from neglect by turning sacred intimacy into triviality. Where neglect ignores, ridicule diminishes. Throughout salvation history, divine love is not only overlooked but treated as unnecessary, naive, or excessive. The prophets experienced this pattern, bearing God’s message among those who mocked what they refused to understand (cf. Jer 20:7–8). Wisdom literature speaks of the righteous being laughed at because they trust what others cannot see . In the Passion, ridicule reached its summit when divine mercy was surrounded by scorn, crowned with contempt, and treated as weakness (cf. Mt 27:27–31). The Catechism explains that hardness of heart blinds the human person to divine truth, distorting perception itself (cf. CCC 1865). Ridicule therefore is not merely social mockery; it is spiritual blindness reacting defensively to holiness. In modern life, ridicule may not always be loud. It appears in subtle embarrassment about faith, in silence when truth should be spoken, in reducing prayer to private sentiment rather than living allegiance. Many souls experience interior pressure to appear “reasonable,” “balanced,” or “practical,” quietly pushing Christ to the margins of decision-making. Our Adorable Jesus receives ridicule with the same patient mercy with which He receives neglect: not defending Himself, not withdrawing His presence, but continuing to pour forth love that remains unmoved by rejection or misunderstanding . His silence is not defeat, but redemptive patience: (cf. Rev 3:20) love persevering where love is least recognized, mercy remaining where gratitude is absent, presence abiding where welcome is withheld .Even when ignored, misjudged, or treated with irreverence, He remains steadfast — (cf. 1 Cor 13:7) offering Himself still, loving still, interceding still — the living embodiment of charity that “bears all things and endures all things” .

When Our Adorable Jesus reveals pain at neglect and ridicule, He is not expressing human fragility but divine appeal. Love that seeks communion must allow itself to be refused, ignored, or misunderstood; otherwise freedom would not be real . His sorrow therefore reveals the dignity He grants to human response. God does not impose relationship—He invites, waits, and suffers the cost of that waiting. This divine patience echoes throughout history: (cf. Hos 11:1–9) the Lord enduring Israel’s forgetfulness, recalling them through prophets, preserving covenant despite repeated indifference . The Catechism (cf. CCC 1432, 1847) describes this as the astonishing persistence of mercy that never abandons the sinner but continually calls to return . In daily life, this appeal is often felt through quiet interior movements — gentle impulses to pray, a subtle unease after moral compromise, a sudden awareness of sacred presence in ordinary moments. These are not random disturbances but grace-filled invitations that awaken the conscience and draw the soul back toward communion . The Spirit works not by force but by interior illumination, stirring recollection where forgetfulness had settled and prompting conversion before hardness deepens .

Such movements may appear small — a pause before speaking harshly, a desire to enter a church, an unexpected call to repentance — yet they are living signs of divine patience at work within the heart. They reveal God’s nearness, not as intrusion but as merciful guidance, inviting cooperation with grace before sin matures and distance from Him grows . Each interior stirring is therefore a moment of mitigation — mercy quietly intervening, love gently redirecting, presence calling the soul back into attentive communion . Neglect often happens not through hostility but through postponement: later prayer, delayed conversion, partial generosity. Yet divine love interprets delay as distance. Saints teach that the smallest sincere response consoles the Heart of Christ because it restores living reciprocity. His pain is therefore transformative—it awakens conscience, deepens awareness, and calls the soul into attentive love. To hear His sorrow is already to be drawn into deeper communion.

Every vocation becomes a place where the soul can respond to the neglect Christ experiences in the world. The contemplative responds through sustained presence; the parent through patient love; the worker through faithful offering of ordinary labor; the sufferer through silent union with redemptive endurance (cf. Col 1:24). The Catechism teaches that human life becomes a spiritual offering when united to Christ’s self-giving (cf. CCC 901). This means that attentive love in small actions directly consoles divine love where it is ignored elsewhere. Saints frequently emphasize that reparation is not dramatic but relational—simply loving where love is absent. In daily routines, one can pause before beginning tasks, acknowledge Christ inwardly, offer moments of fidelity when distraction tempts indifference. Listening deeply to another person, honoring truth without compromise, or guarding reverence in worship all become acts of living consolation. Biblical figures reveal this pattern: Mary of Bethany attentive at the Lord’s presence (cf. Lk 10:39), the faithful women remaining near the Cross (cf. Jn 19:25), (cf. 1 Sam 3:10) the prophet who listens when others refuse . These lives show that divine sorrow invites human companionship. The neglected Christ does not seek grand gestures but steady presence—souls willing to remain where others pass by.

Nowhere is divine neglect more visible—and more redemptive—than in the Eucharistic presence. Here Our Adorable Jesus remains continuously accessible, yet often unvisited, quietly available yet frequently unnoticed. This sacramental humility fulfills the pattern of divine hiddenness throughout salvation history: (cf. Ex 34:6; CCC 1374) God choosing nearness that does not compel attention . Many pass by sacred presence absorbed in urgent concerns, unaware that eternal love waits within ordinary space. Yet precisely in this hiddenness, divine patience shines most intensely. The Eucharist shows a love that is too humble for human beings to fully understand because this love remains in forgotten places and provides gifts that people rarely see and maintains its existence in the face of misunderstanding and silent mockery. It does not demand recognition to remain. It does not withdraw when ignored. It stays… simply because it loves. Saints testify that simple Eucharistic attention repairs vast spiritual indifference. Time spent in reverent awareness restores relational balance—love responding to love.

In modern life filled with noise, speed, and constant stimulation, Eucharistic stillness becomes prophetic. It declares that presence matters more than activity, communion more than performance. To remain attentively before Christ is to answer the deepest cry of His hidden love — to say with one’s presence what words often fail to express: You matter. Attention is love made visible. The heart that remains tells Him what neglect denies — that His Presence is not background, not habit, not duty… but treasure.And this is why the remedy to neglect is not intensity, but fidelity. Intensity flares and fades. Fidelity stays. It is the steady gaze, the returning step, the daily choosing to be present even when nothing is felt. Love that perseveres in quiet awareness restores what indifference erodes. To live this way is to console the Heart that is so often left waiting. Not by doing more — but by being with Him longer, more consciously, more faithfully. Sustained awareness becomes companionship. And companionship becomes love that refuses to leave. Love heals what indifference wounds by simply remaining present.

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, forgive our indifference when You wait unseen beside us. Teach our hearts to notice Your silent nearness, to honor Your hidden sorrow, to console Your neglected love through faithful presence. May every thought, duty, and prayer proclaim: You matter infinitely. Let us never pass You by again. Amen.

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

Thursday, February 12, 2026

Divine Appeal 65

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME 1

“The souls I love so much do not understand.”

“My daughter, spend these terrible hours with Me. Watch and implore mercy for sinners. The souls I love so much do not understand. These are grave moments. Pray and atone without ceasing. In the Sacrament of My Love I never sleep. I am so much abused by My own... The world is in ruins and desolation. What a pain My daughter! I warn mankind because I want it to be converted. The devil will cast its evil powers on the nations. In a given moment he will destroy the best part of My flock. I am

agonizing over souls. Pray and do penance to save souls and you will obtain God’s predilection.

I feel great pain to be neglected and ridiculed by... Keep awake for the sake of sinners. Pray and cloister all in your heart. Do not be afraid. You have to realise My will. I want you to console and appease the wrath of My Eternal Father. Put yourself in the high spirit of contemplation.”

“I bless you.”

2.15 a.m., 8th January 1988

Eucharistic Mitigation

Divine Appeal Reflection - 64

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 64:"Pray and implore for the mitigation of evil in mankind."

Mitigation unveils the astonishing tenderness of divine patience — not passive tolerance, but love that actively restrains what justice could rightly release. God beholds sin in perfect clarity; nothing is hidden from His holiness, nothing softened by illusion . He holds back, delays, sustains, preserves — not because evil is small, but because mercy still seeks the human heart. Scripture reveals this sacred restraint again and again: the flood delayed until warning is given (cf. Gen 6–7), Nineveh spared through repentance (cf. Jon 3:4–10), Israel preserved despite repeated infidelity , Jerusalem mourned over before its fall (cf. Lk 19:41–44). Divine patience is never indifference — (cf. Rom 2:4; 2 Pet 3:9)it is redemptive suspension, time held open so grace may penetrate resistance . God stands within the consequences of human rebellion, moderating what would otherwise overwhelm creation (cf. Wis 11:23–26). The Catechism (cf. CCC 311–314) teaches that God permits evil only because He can draw from it a greater good within His providential wisdom . Thus mitigation is woven into the very structure of salvation history — justice real, mercy intervening, love sustaining what sin destabilizes.

This mystery reaches its living center in the Eucharist. Here divine patience becomes presence that remains wounded yet unwithdrawn. Our Adorable Jesus does not merely remember humanity — He abides within it sacramentally . He remains in a world marked by indifference, disbelief, irreverence, and moral fatigue — a humanity often dulled in conscience and restless in spirit (cf. Mt 24:12; 2 Tim 3:1–5). He remains where His Name is forgotten in daily living, where His commandments are set aside in the pursuit of autonomy, where His love is offered yet not received . He abides amid distraction that replaces prayer, noise that suffocates interior silence, and habits that slowly erode reverence for the sacred . Yet He does not retreat into inaccessible glory or withdraw into distant transcendence. The One who possesses all majesty chooses abiding nearness,(cf. Mt 28:20; Jn 6:56; CCC 1377) fulfilling His promise to remain with His people through all generations . Even where hearts grow cold, He sustains His dwelling among them — (cf. Is 7:14; Rev 3:20) Emmanuel still present within history’s wounded terrain . He stays — substantially, truly, really present (cf. CCC 1374–1377). The Eucharist is not symbolic closeness; it is ontological nearness: the living Christ dwelling within history’s wounded environment. Like the pillar of cloud that remained with Israel despite their murmuring (cf. Ex 13:21–22; 16:2–12), He accompanies humanity through its spiritual desert. Each tabernacle is a proclamation that God refuses abandonment. The Catechism teaches that Christ’s Eucharistic presence flows directly from His sacrificial self-giving, perpetuating His offering in time (cf. CCC 1362–1367). Thus mitigation is not abstract — it is sacramental. Mercy has location. Patience has form. Love has Presence.

Here the soul begins to perceive something deeply piercing: Christ remains not only with humanity, but for humanity before the Father without ceasing. He stands eternally as mediator (cf. Heb 7:25; 9:24), the Lamb continually presenting His self-offering . The Eucharist makes this mediation present within time. The sacrifice is not repeated, but perpetually made present — its power continually active (cf. CCC 1366–1368). This means every moment of Eucharistic presence is a moment in which judgment is held in suspension by love. Divine holiness encounters human disorder — and the Son stands between. Like Moses on the mountain restraining destruction through intercession , like Aaron standing between the living and the dead with incense , Christ remains the living boundary where mercy meets justice. The Eucharistic Presence is therefore the supreme manifestation of mitigation: not merely diminishing the effects of sin, but transforming human estrangement into sacrificial communion with God . What humanity cannot endure alone — guilt, weakness, spiritual disorientation, and the weight of sin’s consequences — Christ sustains continually. In the Eucharist, His Body and Blood become both the means and the instrument by which divine patience operates, holding back the full force of justice while pouring forth mercy . Here, the sacramental presence does not merely recall Calvary; (cf. CCC 1366–1367)it makes present the ongoing offering of Christ, a living mediation between divine holiness and human fragility . What would condemn absolutely, He mediates mercifully.

Every Mass celebrated, every hour of adoration, every reception of Holy Communion is a profound participation in this mystical mitigation — a tangible, enduring reality in which divine grace restrains the advance of evil, softens hearts hardened by sin, and draws humanity ever closer to the Divine Lover . In the Eucharist, Christ’s sacrificial presence acts invisibly yet powerfully: sin’s momentum is interrupted, resentment is tempered, and spiritual desolation is transformed into receptivity for mercy . The faithful who approach the altar or kneel in silent adoration become co-participants in this redemptive pulse, allowing the love of God to penetrate ordinary life — family, work, school, society — wherever human weakness or injustice seeks to dominate . Just as the manna sustained Israel in the desert (cf. Ex 16:4–36) and the faithful intercessors of the Old Covenant influenced the course of nations (cf. Dan 9:3–19), so too does Eucharistic participation restrain spiritual collapse, infusing grace into hearts that would otherwise yield to pride, despair, or moral inertia. This is mitigation enacted not by human power but by presence, reception, and adoration of the living Christ, the Lamb continually offered, the source and summit of all mercy.

This reveals why Eucharistic adoration is never passive devotion but participation in cosmic mercy. To kneel before the Blessed Sacrament is to enter Christ’s own priestly offering for the world (cf. Heb 4:14–16; 10:19–22). The soul adoring becomes united to the One who repairs, intercedes, restrains, and redeems. The Church teaches that intercession shares in Christ’s own saving prayer (cf. CCC 2634–2636). Thus every hour of adoration mystically stands within the space where divine patience touches human rebellion. The saints perceived this with clarity: Eucharistic love repairs irreverence, softens hardness, obtains conversion, restrains moral collapse. Charity deepened through Communion preserves from grave sin and strengthens the bonds of unity . This preservation is mitigation unfolding invisibly — grace interrupting sin’s maturation before destruction spreads.

Ultimately, mitigation in the Eucharistic light reveals something overwhelming in its simplicity:

Humanity continues because Christ remains.

He remains offered.

He remains present.

He remains interceding.

He remains loving where love is refused.

And as long as the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus beats within history, mercy continues to flow where judgment could prevail — sustaining the world in a fragile but real embrace of redeeming love (cf. Col 1:17; Eph 1:7–10).

Prayer

Our Adorable Eucharistic Jesus, hidden Lamb and living Mercy, remain with us and restrain the spread of evil through Your sacramental Presence. Make our Communions acts of reparation, our adoration a shield for mankind, our lives extensions of Your sacrifice. Let Your Eucharistic love quietly redeem the world. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 64

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME 1

“My left hand points to a warning and My right hand to a miracle.”

“My daughter, watch and pray. Listen to My Voice. These are great warnings of mercy. My left hand points to a warning and my right hand to a miracle. These are My words of warning obtained from My Divine Mercy. Pray and implore for the mitigation of evil in mankind. In the Sacrament of My Love I am so sad because My own... are labouring hard to abolish My Presence.

My great pain is that I am only receiving abuses and ridicules. What more could I have done for mankind.

Satan will be able to infiltrate the... What a pain! I continuously pour My mercy in human hearts. Make small hosts which will pray and atone. With the small hosts I ask you to establish the prayer shifts. I desire to continuously pour My mercy in the human hearts. I desire to continue always for the salvation of more souls.”

“I bless you.”

4.00 a.m., 6th January 1988

Wednesday, February 4, 2026

Faithfulness Amid the Devil’s Works

Divine Appeal Reflection - 63

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 63: "The devil is at work to destroy souls. He already knows that his time is very short."

At times, life unfolds with outward order, yet the heart feels quietly unsettled, burdened by invisible weights: fatigue that weakens the spirit , doubts that cloud trust (cf. Jas 1:6–8), fears that threaten peace (cf. Ps 34:4; 1 Jn 4:18), and a longing for what seems beyond reach. The Catechism reminds us that human freedom is fragile, wounded by sin yet still drawn to God’s goodness , and that interior struggle is the arena where grace and vigilance meet .This is not weakness alone; it is the battlefield where the devil seeks to fracture souls, making the ordinary feel empty and the faithful seem invisible . In daily life, the struggle manifests tangibly: a parent praying through fear for a child (cf. Prv 22:6), a worker resisting compromise, a student choosing patience amid distraction . Saints, like St. Faustina,(cf. Diary 1485) knew how mercy flows most fully when weakness is admitted rather than hidden . Every sigh of fatigue, every flicker of doubt, every hidden worry becomes a hidden battlefield of grace, where ordinary choices are transformed into acts of luminous resistance.Jesus enters each distracted, weary, and fearful moment, not as a distant observer, but as a presence intimately dwelling within the human heart. Scripture shows that even the smallest gestures of fidelity participate in God’s saving work, turning weakness into strength and struggle into triumph . The Catechism(cf. CCC 2011, 2026) affirms that God’s grace touches every human moment, shaping daily decisions, interior movements, and humble acts into means of sanctification and holiness .

In this awareness, the soul recognizes that drifting is not rest, and numbness is not peace. Love must remain deliberate, awake, and faithful in every hour. Each act of prayer, every choice of conscience, becomes a weapon of light, each ordinary yes a strike against darkness . Life is consecrated through vigilance: guarding time, protecting prayer, offering love intentionally. The heart lives awake, strengthened by the certainty that Christ’s love is present in every hidden struggle, overpowering the tempter with mercy, and bringing eternity into the present moment . In these quiet, vigilant moments, the soul participates in the triumph of Jesus’ Heart, keeping watch, resisting the enemy, and allowing divine love to reign in a world that hungers for faithful hearts.

The enemy rarely attacks where we feel strong. He waits for the moments when the heart is worn thin—late hours, quiet discouragements, disappointments no one notices. Scripture warns that vigilance is necessary precisely because temptation studies our weakness (cf. 1 Pet 5:8). The Catechism(cf. CCC 2847) explains that temptation often speaks in gentle tones, convincing the soul that delay, compromise, or silence will cost nothing . This feels painfully familiar. It is the choice to skip prayer because the day was heavy, to soften truth to keep peace, to scroll endlessly because silence feels too demanding. Saints knew this slow erosion. St. Teresa of Ávila warned that neglecting prayer does not wound the soul suddenly, but slowly, until captivity feels normal. Yet Jesus remains near. He does not withdraw when we struggle; He waits for the smallest turn of the heart. Like Peter,(cf. Lk 22:61–62) we discover that weakness becomes the place where mercy meets us most personally . Each return—however quiet—is already a victory. Love is renewed not by strength, but by humility.

If this struggle stood alone, the heart would surely collapse beneath its weight. Yet Scripture anchors us in a reality stronger than fear: Christ has already conquered the world, and no trial can sever His victory from those who remain in Him . The Catechism (cf. CCC 412; 310) reminds us that even evil is never without purpose; God bends every shadow, every injustice, every hidden wound toward the salvation of souls . This awareness transforms how the soul breathes, turning anxiety into quiet vigilance. The Cross itself declares that love does not flee from suffering but enters it fully, transfiguring pain into grace . In daily life, this victory becomes tangible through the ordinary: opening Scripture when focus falters (cf. Ps 119:105), receiving the sacraments when guilt feels overwhelming (cf. CCC 1414), whispering a prayer when words fail . The Eucharist becomes the resting place where the soul recalls it is never alone . Confidence slowly returns—not because the struggle has vanished, but because Christ dwells intimately within it, guiding every faltering step (cf. Jn 16:33; Rom 8:31–39). The heart learns to fight from trust rather than fear, to stand with courage amid uncertainty, resting in a love that has already passed through death, pierced the darkness of sin, and emerged eternally victorious .

At last, the soul awakens to the astonishing truth: staying vigilant in love is itself a participation in the redemption of the world. Jesus’ Heart calls quietly, persistently, to those who would listen, revealing that every act of faithful love, however hidden, carries eternal consequence . The Catechism (cf. CCC 2634; 2628) teaches that prayer offered in deliberate fidelity unites the soul to Christ’s ongoing work of salvation, making even the smallest obedience radiant with grace . Suddenly, ordinary lives shine with extraordinary purpose: a parent praying through worry for a child (cf. Prv 22:6), a worker refusing the temptation of dishonesty (cf. Col 3:23–24), a believer silencing bitterness in favor of patience . Mystically, the soul perceives that love cannot sleep; it must be awake, alert, and intentional . Each quiet yes, each hidden offering, pushes back the darkness in ways unseen, rippling through eternity . Life becomes simultaneously simple and profound, each hour weighty with significance, each moment a chance to choose fidelity. In a wounded and hurried world, such souls shine steadily, not loudly (cf. Mt 6:6). Jesus’ appeal resounds with urgency and tenderness: Remain with Me. Watch with Me. Love while there is still time. In this call, the soul perceives its vocation not as achievement, but as surrender—to love without measure, to pray without distraction, and to bear creation through the steadfast fidelity of His Sacred Heart. The Catechism (cf. CCC 2013–2015, 2026)teaches that holiness is cultivated in perseverance and daily conversion, in the repeated turning of the heart toward God . Even ordinary moments, saturated with awareness, become thresholds where eternity presses into time, and fatigue, distraction, or fear become spaces where grace quietly triumphs .

Jesus enters the unnoticed corners of our lives—our hesitation, weariness, and hidden failings—and transforms them into a battlefield of grace. Each patient word, whispered prayer, or refusal to compromise becomes luminous resistance, a witness that God’s love reigns even where it seems invisible . To heed this appeal is to awaken to the sacred pulse beneath human fragility. Drifting is revealed as loss, numbness as forgetfulness, and distraction as the subtle work of the enemy . Yet every hesitant return allows grace to meet weakness, and love to stir the soul awake. The Sacred Heart is refuge and forge, shaping the soul in hidden battles and revealing that holiness is not absence of weakness, but the surrender of it. In this union, the ordinary becomes luminous, the human becomes divine, and every fleeting moment is redeemed .Remaining with Christ is to embrace fragility, to choose Him in fatigue and distraction, and to let every act of love—even imperfect—participate in eternity.

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, enter the quiet unrest of our hearts, where fatigue, fear, and distraction dwell. Turn our weakness into witness, our ordinary choices into luminous resistance . Teach us to love awake, surrender fully, and carry Your Sacred Heart into every hidden moment. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 63

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME 1

“What a pain to see that many are approaching damnation.”

“My daughter, understand my pains. I speak to you amid tears. Pray a great deal to console Me and to appease the wrath of My Eternal Father. Implore mercy for sinners. These are grave moments. Never before has the world needed prayers like in these present times. These are my difficult hours in which... are labouring hard to destroy the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. With My Head bowed down I am walking in the milling crowds. I am so abused and ridiculed. I am sad beneath my sacramental veil. I am watching and loving all. Do not lose this precious time. Pray and cloister souls in your heart.

I would not want anyone to be condemned. What a pain for me to see that many are approaching damnation. Woe to them who only abuse Me and do not believe in My Divine Love. The devil is at work to destroy souls. He already knows that his time is very short. If mankind wants to be saved, they must come back and pray and do penance. The world has lost its senses. It is My desire that man be redeemed from all sin. My Eternal Father’s anger is overflowing. Souls are imprisoned by the devil. What a pain!

Many sacrileges are committed day and night against Me. What more could I have suffered for mankind! Blessed are those who listen to My Voice and prepare themselves...

They will never see the true light, because they have followed the ways of the devil. I desire to save all from the evil one. It is My great love for mankind that keeps Me in the tabernacle. I call everyone to

live as living tabernacles.”

“I bless you.”

2.30 a.m., 6th January 1988

Vigil of Our Adorable Jesus

Divine Appeal Reflection - 62

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 62: "Meditate on the evil of My own... In the Sacrament of My Love I never sleep and I am never weary of My vigil for sinners."

There is something tender, almost startling, about the thought that while the whole world rests, Our Adorable Jesus does not sleep. Like a mother listening for the cry of her child or a doctor refusing to leave a patient in crisis, He keeps His gaze upon humanity from the tabernacle. This isn’t the restless tossing of someone drowning in worries. It’s the slow, waiting, made-flesh love of the triune God who chooses to stay up with the sinner. The light of every parish lamp burning through the night is a signal that Jesus is here, wide-eyed and waiting. He doesn’t forget us, even if we forget Him. Even if our hearts drift, His heart stays, and in that steadiness there is healing. We live in a culture that insists on getting things done, then falls over from exhaustion. How many people lie awake in secret anxieties, scrolling through phones, or weighed down by failures that no one else knows about? To them, the sleepless Lord whispers: You are not alone in your wakefulness. I too am awake, not to accuse, but to hold you through the night. His vigil is the truest companionship.

The saints intuited this mystery and lived as His companions in the night. St. Clare of Assisi would rise from her bed to keep watch before the Eucharist, seeing in Christ’s sleepless love the strength to embrace poverty with joy. St. John Vianney would spend hours in prayer, sometimes in the silence of night, until he was drowned by the truth that Jesus never grew tired of sinners. St. Padre Pio would offer intercession vigils, dripping with the care of souls that did not even know they needed mercy. The reason they were saints was not the long hours alone, but that they allowed the Savior’s wakefulness to reform their hearts. Their lives remind us that His vigil is not just for mystics or clergy. It is for students bent over books, for mothers pacing with restless infants, for workers returning home at dawn, for the elderly unable to find sleep in their loneliness. The tabernacle becomes their silent companion, proving that love without sleep is more than a poetic idea—it is Christ’s reality.He extends an invitation to not only awe but also to participate, even in modest but genuine ways.

Here lies the heart of the challenge today: Jesus remains awake, but often He keeps vigil alone. The busyness of our modern lives excuses us from lingering, yet love always requires presence. Pope Francis said that in the Eucharist, Christ waits to meet us personally, not abstractly (cf. Evangelii Gaudium). To visit Him is not an obligation but a gift of companionship. Even if not daily, could we not organize vigils—monthly, seasonally, or as a parish family—so He does not endure His sleepless watch in solitude? Imagine the beauty of different vocations uniting in this: teenagers taking a midnight hour, parents with young children offering an early evening, religious rising before dawn, elders filling the quiet spaces. These vigils, woven across time, become a living response to His Heart. And they are not simply for Him—they transform us. Along with listening to God, we also learn to listen to each other. Such vigils have the power to mend a fractured and restless society.

Keeping watch with Jesus does not mean filling silence with eloquent prayers. Sometimes that involves simply sitting there, exhausted and destitute, and allowing His restless gaze to linger upon us. At times, it entails presenting our diversions, our brokenness, and our despair and learning that He accepts them with compassion. What matters is that we are there. To share in His vigil is to let ourselves be drawn into the rhythm of His mercy. Families who spend even a short time before the Blessed Sacrament discover peace they could not generate on their own. Parishes that build Eucharistic vigils find that their community gains resilience, charity, and a new spirit of unity. Individuals who accompany Him discover courage to carry the hidden crosses of their lives. And even for those who cannot come often, the decision to organize occasional vigils says to Him: You are not forgotten. Your sleepless love is seen, and we want to be with You. In this, we give back a small drop of the ocean He pours out for us. And mysteriously, that small drop consoles His Heart.

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, sleepless in the Sacrament of Love, let us not leave You alone in Your vigil. Teach our families, parishes, and hearts to pause, to watch, to love You back. May our simple hours of presence console You and renew us in Your unfailing mercy. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 62

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME 1

“In the Sacrament of My Love, I never sleep and I am never weary of My vigil for sinners.”

“My daughter, watch and pray. Keep Me company in these dark and difficult hours. Meditate on the evil of My own... In the Sacrament of My Love I never sleep and I am never weary of My vigil for sinners.

I keep on watching from beneath My sacramental veil. My heart is grieved by My own... who are labouring hard in these hours to abolish the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. It is satan’s hour. Pray a great deal. Do not lose any of these precious times. Implore mercy for sinners and give me consolation for my Love.”

“I bless you.”

2.15 a.m., 5th January 1988

Jesus' Mercy in the Tabernacle

Divine Appeal Reflection - 61

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 61: "It is My great love for mankind that keeps Me day and night in the tabernacle. I am never weary of sinners."

Step into a church on any quiet afternoon, and you’ll find Him—our Adorable Jesus—waiting in the Tabernacle. No bright signals, no sounds. It’s the quiet of mercy. Think about the universe’s Creator choosing to lovefully hide behind a tiny golden door. Every day, people pass by churches, masked with the weight of unspoken silences—battles, broken relationships, and unvoiced burdens. Yet inside, mercy waits. He doesn’t ask for credentials, achievements, or perfection. He just asks for honesty: to come as we are. For the addict ashamed of relapse, He whispers, “You are not beyond My reach.” For the mother who feels unnoticed in her sacrifices, He says, “I see you.” For the student paralyzed by anxiety, He offers peace no medication can imitate. The Tabernacle is not a museum of holiness, but a hospital of souls. What amazes us most is that He never grows tired. He doesn’t say, “You again?” He says, “I’ve been waiting.” "Mercy" is not a theoretical concept found in some ages-old complicated text; it is a very real and tender instance in the tabernacle for all of us. It is a heart in constant motion; a heart that is welcoming and deeply personal.

The saints knew this secret. St. Thérèse found strength in the Host when she felt her weakness. St. John Vianney would kneel for hours because he knew his people needed more than his words—they needed Christ’s love burning in him. St. Teresa of Calcutta spent hours before the Tabernacle so she could later carry Christ to the dying in Calcutta’s gutters. They weren’t superhuman; they were people who knew where to be refilled when life emptied them out. Popes too have shown us this way. Pope Benedict XVI called the Eucharist “love in its purest form” (cf. Sacramentum Caritatis), reminding us it isn’t just ritual, it’s relationship. Pope Francis warns that without sitting before the Eucharist, even good works can become activism without soul (cf. Evangelii Gaudium). It’s true: when we skip prayer, we begin running on fumes, even if we’re doing holy things. But when we sit before the Tabernacle—even silently, even tired—something changes. Mercy fills in the cracks. He steadies us, not by removing all burdens, but by carrying them with us. Our Adorable Jesus teaches us that to be human is not to be perfect—it is to be loved, healed, and sent forth again.

Mercy in the Tabernacle isn’t locked away for priests or religious; it spills into every life. The teacher overwhelmed with restless students learns patience from the One who gently taught fishermen. The doctor, tempted by a culture that treats life as disposable, kneels before the Giver of life and remembers his calling is sacred. The politician, pressured to compromise truth for popularity, can rediscover integrity before the Truth hidden in the Host. Parents worn thin by diapers, bills, or rebellious teenagers can find in Jesus’ quiet presence the courage to love another day. Students, anxious about identity or the future, can find clarity where silence speaks louder than screens. Workers in fields or factories can unite their sweat to the hidden Christ, knowing He too worked with His hands. The Eucharist doesn’t remove us from the world. Rather, it brings us back with fresh eyes. According to Pope St. John Paul II, the Eucharist is the centre of the Church (cf. Ecclesia de Eucharistia). Our Adorable Jesus is waiting not only for saints sequestered in convents but also for ordinary people like us. Our disconnection from the Tabernacle is the deeper reason our lives often feel barren, distracted, or restless. When we drift from the Eucharistic Heart of Christ, we lose the center that orders all things; without His Presence, our hearts scatter into noise, unable to rest in the fullness of love.

We live in a restless age—constant scrolling, endless noise, and the pressure to perform. In such a world, the Tabernacle seems useless to some: silence in a society addicted to noise, stillness in a culture that demands speed. Yet that is precisely why it saves us. When we kneel before Our Adorable Jesus, time slows down, and suddenly we see clearly what matters and what doesn’t. We discover that love is not proven by productivity but by presence. He is present to us—and asks us to be present to Him. Pope Pius XII warned that without the Eucharist, society collapses into selfishness (cf. Mediator Dei). Isn’t that what we see around us? Families fragmented, politics poisoned, friendships shallow? The Tabernacle is the antidote: not escape, but encounter. Here the addict finds freedom, the lonely find company, the weary find rest. Here our scattered selves are made whole. Jesus does not conceal Himself because He is absent, but because He desires to be sought in faith. His hiddenness is not abandonment but invitation, drawing us to approach Him with trust, not terror; with love, not suspicion. The world will keep running in circles, but inside every church beats a still point of mercy. It’s not an idea—it’s a Person. And He has been waiting for you.

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, mercy hidden in silence, teach us to slow down and be present to You. Heal the wounds of our families, strengthen our vocations, and make us living witnesses of Your love. In Your Tabernacle, we find our center, our rest, and our home. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 61

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

VOLUME 1

“If there are no prayers, the powers of evil will break loose.”

“My daughter, listen to what I tell you. I have given you many signs of My Presence in you. Pray and do what I have asked you to do. Meditate in these dark hours. The freemasons are abusing Me in the Sacrament of my Love. They also abuse My very Gospel. The iniquity is repugnant. They shout ‘we do not want God.’ What great sorrow grieves My Heart! In the Sacrament of My Love I am so afflicted and neglected by My own... Each day they continue along the way of perdition. Immense is the chain of scandals. The world is a swampland of muck and mire. Never before has the world needed prayers and penances as in these tragic times.

If there are no prayers, the powers of evil will break loose. I pursue them when they are distant and I wait for them. What a pain: My own... abandon their vocations and drag down all... From the ocean of My Mercy I am calling and warning them before it is too late. Time is approaching when I will speak with My Judge’s Voice! ...have lost their senses. These times are worse. It is My great love for mankind that keeps Me day and night in the tabernacle. I am never weary of sinners.

My daughter, spend this hour in prayer to console Me in the Sacrament of My Love for the pains I receive from... Watch and hold mankind in your heart. Implore mercy for them. I am sad in the tabernacle. Do not leave me alone. Evil is prevailing over good. Satan will manage through... to infiltrate... What a pain! Remain awake with Me My daughter. I delight to see you gazing on Me in the Sacrament of My Love.”

“I bless you.”

1.30 a.m., 4th January 1988