Translate

The Again and Again Call to Salvation

Divine Appeal Reflection - 68

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 68:  "I desire all to be saved. I am calling again and again. I am never weary of calling sinners back".

There is a moment known to every human heart: the hushed pause after a fall, when shame suggests that hiding is safer than returning, echoing the first trembling concealment in Eden .  What tempts the soul to withdraw is in truth an invitation to deeper intimacy, for where sin reveals our weakness, grace quietly arranges a closer embrace. The wounded heart, trembling in fear, is drawn not to distance but to trust, echoing the mercy that meets the prodigal before words are spoken . Into that fragile silence Jesus leans close with disarming tenderness. Scripture reveals a Savior moved with compassion toward human weakness (cf Mt 9:36), and the Catechism (cf CCC 618) teaches that Christ united Himself in some way with every person . This means no daily situation is spiritually insignificant. When a worker hides embarrassment after an error or a parent regrets harsh words, Christ is already present, inviting gentle honesty. Peter’s tears after denial  reveal the profound intimacy where grace begins its quiet work of healing. Even the smallest gestures—a whispered prayer while walking (cf 1 Thes 5:17), a humble apology at the table —become channels through which Jesus Christ transforms our brokenness into wells of mercy. These acts do not merely repair; they elevate suffering into sources of compassion (cf 2 Cor 1:3–4), forming hearts capable of patience with others’ struggles (cf Col 3:12–14). In every vocation, surrendering to His tender nearness converts failures into encounters with restorative love (cf Ps 34:18; Heb 4:15–16), honoring the dignity of the human person . Even ordinary, hidden acts—small sacrifices, attentive listening, quiet forgiveness (cf Mt 5:23–24; Lk 6:36)—become apostolic gestures that extend His mercy. The saints echo this rhythm, showing that the path to holiness flows not through grandeur but through fidelity to grace in daily life . 

Human existence consists of routine tasks, well-known temptations, and consistent obligations. Jesus embeds a tenacious invitation that honors freedom while never giving up hope within this rhythm. Biblical history shows God renewing covenant despite human inconsistency (cf Is 1:18–20). The Catechism presents conversion as a daily task supported by grace (cf CCC 1435). In practical experience, this appears when the same irritation surfaces at work or the same distraction interrupts prayer. Instead of despair, Christ offers patient accompaniment. Paul’s endurance through weakness (cf 2 Cor 12:9) reveals strength discovered inside limitation. Saints counsel embracing repetition as training in fidelity. Concretely, believers respond by choosing one deliberate act of charity within routine—listening attentively, completing tasks conscientiously, or pausing before reacting. Such choices carve interior space where Christ dwells more freely. Perseverance in small goodness quietly stabilizes families and communities, because holiness is built through repeated fidelity rather than rare heroic acts. Jesus Christ teaches that faithfulness in little things carries great spiritual weight . Each patient word and hidden service cooperates with grace, weaving love into ordinary duties (cf CCC 2013–2014). Across vocations, sanctity grows through consistent charity practiced within daily life (cf Col 3:17).

Compassion becomes most believable when it meets real wounds. Jesus approaches human brokenness not as distant judge but as physician who touches what others avoid. The Gospel portrays Him welcoming those burdened by sin and exclusion (cf Mk 2:16–17). The Catechism (cf CCC 1847) affirms that recognition of misery attracts divine mercy . In contemporary settings, wounds appear as anxiety about performance, hidden addictions, or loneliness amid crowds. Mary Magdalene’s restoration  illustrates dignity returned through encounter. Receiving this compassion may involve seeking reconciliation, honest conversation, or supportive community. Saints emphasize that shared vulnerability builds authentic fellowship. Mystically, accepted mercy softens the heart, enabling deeper communion with God. Apostolically, those healed become sensitive to silent suffering around them. A colleague’s irritability or a neighbor’s withdrawal is approached with understanding rather than judgment. Through such responses, Christ’s healing presence becomes tangible. In every sphere of life, embodying received compassion humanizes spirituality, integrating divine grace with the concrete textures of emotional and social experience.

The horizon of Christ’s love always extends beyond the individual toward a shared human story. Scripture proclaims reconciliation entrusted to believers as mission (cf 2 Cor 5:18–20), and the Catechism (cf CCC 2013–2014) links personal holiness with service to others . This mission unfolds less in grand speeches than in attentive presence. A teacher encouraging a struggling student or a friend accompanying grief participates in Christ’s outreach. The early disciples’ witness (cf Acts 2:42–47) shows community formed through lived charity. Saints describe everyday kindness as quiet evangelization. Mystically, union with Jesus awakens sensitivity to the sacredness of each person. Practically, this means prioritizing availability: setting aside distractions to truly hear another. Apostolically, such habits weave networks of trust that reflect God’s inclusive love. Across cultures and occupations, believers become recognizable by humane warmth. Their lives suggest that salvation is not abstract doctrine but experienced care. By integrating contemplation with relational attentiveness, disciples allow Christ’s universal compassion to circulate through simple human gestures that dignify shared existence.

To live this way is to cultivate friendship with Jesus inside the texture of daily time. Scripture invites constant remembrance of God’s presence (cf Dt 6:6–7), while the Catechism (cf CCC 2562–2564) presents prayer as the heart’s living dialogue . Friendship with Jesus Christ matures through lived familiarity: the discreet exchange of the heart with Him amid ordinary rhythms, where fleeting moments become places of communion. A whispered prayer in traffic, a quiet thanksgiving after a modest success, or a surrendered worry in uncertainty forms a continuous dialogue that gently educates the soul in trust. Such habits mirror the Emmaus path, where companionship and attentive listening gradually transform confusion into burning recognition . The disciples do not encounter Him first in spectacle but in shared journey, teaching that daily movement itself can become sacramental space. Each small interior turn toward Christ stretches the heart’s capacity to perceive His nearness, until routine is transfigured into meeting. In this way, friendship ceases to be occasional remembrance and becomes a steady climate of presence, where the believer learns to walk, work, and rest with an awakened awareness that He is already beside them, patiently interpreting every experience in the light of love . Saints advise weaving prayer into action until separation disappears. Mystically, such integration awakens awareness of divine companionship. Apostolically, a person who walks with Christ carries quiet serenity that steadies others. In every vocation, interpreting events as exchanges with a trusted friend humanizes spirituality. Work becomes collaboration, rest becomes gratitude, and struggle becomes dialogue.  Every thought, word, and action participates in communion with Jesus Christ , so that devotion saturates daily routines, transforming work, rest, and conversation into avenues of grace . In this way, faith is no longer occasional but pervasive, forming an interior climate where virtue flourishes and ordinary moments are animated by divine presence .

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, unwearied Caller of hidden hearts, let Your voice echo within us before we even know we are lost. Gather our scattered desires, soften our stubborn silence, and awaken holy longing. Make us instruments of Your tenderness, walking together toward the fullness of Your light. Amen.

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

Divine Appeal 68

ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL

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

 VOLUME 1

“I am calling again and again. I am never weary of calling sinners back.”

“My daughter, pray and keep awake and give me your company.  These are grave moments and difficult hours for Me when My own... are labouring hard to abolish the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. More than ever I am blasphemed, ridiculed, abused, condemned and spat upon. The times demand accelerated action because My pain is immense. The world is in a swampland of muck and mire. I assure you truly, never before has the world needed prayers like in these tragic times. If prayers and penances are not offered the powers of evil will break loose. I implore mercy for sinners. Cloister them in your heart.

I call them all back to My sheepfold. These times are worse. The good do not pray. Behold I offered my whole self to the Father for all. What a pain that everyday I am more forgotten and neglected, in the fore front my own... As I continue to love mankind, I am forced to walk in the midst of the milling crowds with My head bowed down. In the tabernacles I remain day and night waiting and calling to embrace all.

I desire all to be saved. I am calling again and again. I am never weary of calling sinners back. Souls are only falling into perdition. I love them all.

I pour My infinite mercy in human hearts and I let them see My saving power. Pray and atone. For My sake accept all the hardships on your way. Everything has an exact purpose for good.”

“I bless you.”

2.30 a.m., 15th January 1988 

Copyright © 2015 Bishop Cornelius K. Arap Korir, Catholic Diocese of Eldoret, Kenya.  All rights reserved. Reproduced from ON THE EUCHARIST: A DIVINE APPEAL, Volume I by www.adivineappeal.com. 

The Difficult Hours of Our Adorable Jesus

Divine Appeal Reflection - 67

Today, consider in Divine Appeal 67: " ...watch and pray. These are My difficult hours."

When Our Adorable Jesus speaks of His difficult hours, He unveils a mystery deeper than visible suffering — the interior weight of divine love continually offered yet continually resisted. These hours unfold wherever grace approaches the human heart and encounters hesitation, distraction, or quiet refusal. They are the tension between God’s unceasing giving and humanity’s partial receiving. This tension fills salvation history. The Lord waits at the threshold of freedom, never withdrawing love, never forcing response (cf. Rev 3:20; Wis 11:23–26; 2 Pt 3:9).These difficult hours intensify not when humanity sins loudly, but when it delays quietly. A postponed conversion, a distracted prayer, a resisted act of charity — these create a subtle but real prolongation of divine longing. The Catechism (cf. CCC 309, 314, 2002) reveals that God permits time itself to become the space where mercy patiently seeks cooperation . Time is therefore not neutral — it is filled with divine waiting. This interior sorrow was already felt by Jeremiah, who carried the emotional burden of God’s wounded fidelity (cf. Jer 20:7–9). Likewise (cf. Hos 11:1–9), Hosea embodied divine love that continues even when rejected . These were shadows of Christ’s own Heart — loving without pause, hoping without rest. His difficult hour is the hour when love must remain open even while the beloved hesitates. It is the suffering of mercy stretched across time.

There are moments when Our Adorable Jesus allows the soul to experience interior silence — not abandonment, but purification. His difficult hours are not only endured for humanity; they are mystically shared within those who love Him. When consolation withdraws and prayer feels empty, love is invited to exist without emotional support. This reveals the hidden depth of Gethsemane . The Catechism teaches that dryness in prayer is not failure but a participation in Christ’s own surrender, where faith clings without sensory assurance (cf. CCC 2731–2732). In such moments, the soul touches the interior terrain where Jesus Himself loved the Father beyond all human feeling.This mystery is seen in Mary, who carried divine promise while walking through incomprehension and interior piercing (cf. Lk 2:19, 35). Her fidelity did not depend on clarity — it rested in trust. Likewise, Job remained before God when meaning disappeared (cf. Job 1–2; 19:25). The saints testify that these silent hours are where love becomes pure gift. John of the Cross teaches that divine absence often conceals deeper union. God removes felt sweetness so that love may rest in Him alone. Thus Christ’s difficult hour enters the soul when it continues loving without consolation. Silence becomes communion.

Another piercing dimension of Christ’s difficult hours is the sorrow of being misunderstood — not by strangers alone, but by those closest to His Heart. Even His disciples struggled to comprehend His mission, (cf. Mk 8:31–33; Jn 6:66–69) often interpreting divine love through human expectations . Love that gives itself completely is frequently misread, because it operates beyond ordinary logic.This difficult hour continues wherever fidelity is hidden beneath misinterpretation. A soul may act with purity of intention yet be judged harshly. Charity may appear weakness. Silence may appear indifference. The Catechism (cf. CCC 530, 618) teaches that disciples share in Christ’s rejection as part of redemptive participation . Consider Joseph, whose fidelity was obscured beneath false accusation (cf. Gen 39–41). Or David, (cf. 1 Sam 16–18) chosen by God yet misunderstood even within his own household . Their hidden suffering reflects the interior solitude of divine love unrecognized. Among the saints, Padre Pio endured suspicion while living in profound union with Christ, revealing that intimacy with God is often hidden beneath misunderstanding . Such is the mystery of divine love—recognized fully only by those who share its cost. In these silent hours, Jesus suffers not because He is unloved, but because love is not yet understood, not yet received in its transforming depth . The soul that remains faithful without being understood consoles His Heart deeply.

One of the most tender and prolonged difficult hours of Our Adorable Jesus is His waiting for conversion. Divine love does not withdraw when ignored — it remains present, inviting, remembering, hoping. This waiting is not passive delay but active mercy sustaining possibility (cf. Ez 18:23; Lk 15:11–32).The Catechism teaches that repentance itself is a grace already initiated by God’s merciful pursuit (cf. CCC 1427–1428, 1847). Every movement of return is preceded by divine longing. Thus Christ’s difficult hour is the time between His call and humanity’s response.This patient mercy shaped the restoration of Peter after failure (cf. Lk 22:31–32; Jn 21:15–19). It transformed Paul through unexpected encounter . God waits not because He is distant, but because love refuses to violate freedom. Divine patience is not absence—it is reverence for the human heart’s consent . Among the saints, Faustina Kowalska perceived mercy as the Heart of God tirelessly seeking the sinner, never forcing return, yet never ceasing to invite. Such waiting is love stretched to its furthest limit—steadfast, wounded, and always hoping . She saw that the greatest suffering of Christ is not human weakness, but humanity’s refusal to trust mercy.Every delayed repentance extends His difficult hour — yet every return brings profound consolation. Divine patience is love stretched across time for the sake of salvation.

The deepest mystery is this: Christ does not ask us merely to observe His difficult hours, but to enter them as companions. Christian life is participation in His interior offering to the Father (cf. Rom 8:17; Gal 2:20; CCC 521, 618). When a believer remains faithful amid dryness, continues loving when unseen, forgives when wounded, or hopes when change seems slow — the difficult hours of Jesus become mystically shared. This participation transforms ordinary existence into redemptive cooperation. A hidden sacrifice offered in love carries spiritual weight beyond visible measure. The Holy Hour—kept in the night or offered in the day for souls struggling in darkness—is love standing where evil moves most freely. When immorality is traded, revenge carried out, corruption sealed, and hearts quietly fall, one soul watching with Christ becomes a living resistance (cf. Mt 26:41). Divine grace does not remove the darkness; it enters it and transforms suffering into communion. This mystery shines in Maximilian Kolbe, whose self-offering revealed love strongest where sacrifice is deepest . The Catechism (cf. CCC 2745) teaches that intercession mysteriously participates in Christ’s saving work . Every Holy Hour becomes a hidden descent into humanity’s darkest moments—where love refuses to sleep, and darkness loses ground simply because someone remains with Him. The difficult hours are therefore not interruptions of grace but its most intense concentration. They are the furnace where human love is conformed to divine charity. To remain with Jesus in His difficult hours is to allow one’s entire life — every hidden act, every silent endurance, every persevering prayer — to become living consolation for His Heart and living participation in the redemption of the world.

Prayer

Our Adorable Jesus, in Your difficult hours let us remain awake with You. When love costs, when silence deepens, when waiting stretches our hearts, unite us to Your offering. May our hidden fidelity console You. Let every trial become communion, every endurance love, every moment a living “yes” beside You. Amen.

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

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

Copyright © 2015 Bishop Cornelius K. Arap Korir, Catholic Diocese of Eldoret, Kenya.  All rights reserved. Reproduced from ON THE EUCHARIST: A DIVINE APPEAL, Volume I by www.adivineappeal.com. 

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.