ON THE EUCHARIST:A DIVINE APPEAL
VOLUME 1
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.
Today, consider in Divine Appeal 135: "In the Sacrament of My Love I collect miseries and make glorious things out of them."
The mystery does not end with Our Adorable Jesus gathering human misery; rather, the deepest wonder begins in how He mysteriously transforms it. To say that He “makes glorious things” reveals not simply improvement but divine transfiguration. In Catholic understanding, glory means participation in divine life itself—a process through which weakness becomes radiant with grace. The first mystery here is the mystery of Eucharistic alchemy, where Christ changes not circumstances alone but the interior substance of the soul. Just as bread and wine become His Body and Blood through divine action (cf. Lk 22:19–20; 1 Cor 10:16–17), surrendered human misery enters a hidden sacramental process. The Catechism teaches that through grace the human person becomes participant in divine life (cf. CCC 1996–2000, 460). A father burdened by repeated financial humiliation may not suddenly become prosperous, yet Christ slowly forms courage, tenderness, and dependence upon Providence within him. A young woman carrying emotional wounds may discover deeper compassion for suffering persons. A religious crushed by dryness may unexpectedly become guide for struggling souls. St. Louis-Marie Grignion de Montfort contemplated how surrendered weakness offered to God becomes mysteriously reshaped into instruments of sanctity. Thus, glory often begins invisibly; Christ transforms misery first at the roots of identity. Shame slowly becomes humility, fear becomes surrender, loneliness becomes communion, and wounds become hidden openings through which divine tenderness enters the soul.
The second mystery is the mystery of Christified suffering, whereby misery ceases being meaningless and becomes united to the redemptive work of Christ. Human suffering alone often wounds, confuses, and isolates; yet suffering placed within the Eucharistic Heart becomes mysteriously fruitful. Scripture reveals repeatedly that God transforms affliction into participation in His saving purposes. Joseph passed through betrayal and imprisonment before becoming source of preservation for nations (cf. Gen 37; 50:20). Hosea transformed personal sorrow into prophetic witness of divine fidelity (cf. Hos 1–3). The Catechism (cf. CCC 618, 1508) teaches that suffering united to Christ mysteriously participates in redemption and intercession for others . What glorious things emerge? A mother grieving miscarriage may become refuge for other grieving women. A recovering addict becomes compassionate mentor for struggling souls. A priest wounded by past rejection develops unusual tenderness toward forgotten parishioners. A businessman surviving failure becomes unexpectedly detached from pride and more attentive to the poor. St. Gemma Galgani perceived suffering united to Christ not as abandonment, but as a hidden participation in divine love and redemptive grace . Glory, therefore, is not the absence of wounds, but their mysterious transformation. In the hands of Our Adorable Jesus, suffering may slowly become mercy instead of resentment, wisdom instead of despair, and apostolic fruitfulness flowing from places once marked only by pain .
The third mystery is the mystery of hidden resurrection, because Our Adorable Jesus often glorifies misery gradually, silently, and invisibly. Modern minds expect dramatic miracles, yet divine transformation frequently unfolds beneath ordinary life. Seeds (cf. Jn 12:24; Mk 4:26–29) disappear underground before bearing fruit . The Cross appeared like defeat before Resurrection unveiled hidden victory (cf. Lk 24:13–35). Likewise, Christ often transforms misery through unnoticed processes of purification. A student repeatedly failing yet persevering in trust slowly acquires resilience, humility, and wisdom. A spouse enduring years of misunderstanding may gradually become extraordinarily patient. A caregiver exhausted by caring for a sick relative discovers deep interior strength born from sacrifice. The Catechism (cf. CCC 2015, 1435, 2847) teaches that holiness grows through conversion, purification, perseverance, and grace . St. Jane Frances de Chantal endured profound grief, yet sorrow gradually expanded her heart into deep maternal compassion for suffering souls . Thus, the glorious works of Christ often remain hidden from worldly eyes. Our Adorable Jesus may not immediately remove suffering, but He quietly transforms the one carrying it, until mercy begins radiating from wounds once feared unbearable (cf. 2 Cor 4:7–11). Hidden glory often appears as gentleness replacing bitterness, hope surviving disappointment, purity emerging through struggle, and fidelity quietly maturing through silence .
The fourth mystery is the mystery of apostolic multiplication, because Christ never glorifies misery for the individual alone. What is surrendered in the Eucharist mysteriously blesses others. Scripture repeatedly reveals God multiplying surrendered poverty into communal blessing. The Boy with the Loaves and Fishes (cf. Jn 6:1–14) offered little, yet Christ multiplied it for multitudes . Job emerged from suffering with deeper intercessory authority (cf. Job 42:7–10). The Catechism teaches that every Christian participates in Christ’s priestly mission through offering life spiritually to God (cf. CCC 901, 1368). A father silently carrying worries while remaining gentle shapes emotionally secure children. A widow offering grief for priests invisibly strengthens vocations. A nurse bringing emotional exhaustion into Eucharistic prayer develops extraordinary tenderness toward suffering patients. A youth resisting impurity silently witnesses holiness to friends. St. Damien of Molokai transformed suffering and fear into radical service among the abandoned. Glory emerges because Christ multiplies surrendered pain into healing, courage, holiness, and salvation beyond what the soul itself understands. No hidden suffering offered in love remains spiritually barren.
At the highest contemplative level lies the mystery of glorification through union. Ultimately, Our Adorable Jesus makes glorious things not merely by changing situations but by drawing souls into deeper participation in His own divine life. The Eucharist becomes the furnace where misery slowly loses isolation and enters communion with Christ. Scripture reveals this supreme mystery repeatedly: weakness becomes strength through grace (cf. 2 Cor 12:7–10), dying becomes living (cf. Rom 6:3–11), surrender becomes fruitfulness (cf. Jn 15:1–8). The Catechism (cf. CCC 460, 2014, 2028) teaches that the Christian vocation culminates in participation in divine glory through union with Christ . St. Elizabeth of Hungary transformed personal sorrow into profound charity because union with Christ enlarged love beyond suffering and self-concern (cf. Rom 8:28; Gal 5:6). Thus, the glorious works of God often remain hidden from worldly eyes, appearing instead as quiet sanctity, purified love, patient endurance, courageous mercy, Eucharistic joy, and apostolic fruit unseen on earth . A tired laborer who continues trusting, a mother persevering through hidden tears, a priest remaining faithful through discouragement, or a young couple courageously beginning again after failure may become luminous souls, not because suffering disappeared, but because Christ quietly transformed misery into grace (cf. 2 Cor 4:16–17). In the Sacrament of His Love, nothing surrendered remains ordinary; everything entrusted to His Eucharistic Heart is mysteriously touched by eternity .
Prayer
Our Adorable Jesus, present in the Holy Eucharist , receive all our misery—loneliness, fear, and brokenness. Purify and transform them into compassion and holiness. May our suffering become silent prayer, and our poverty become love offered for souls in Your merciful presence. Amen.
Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.
Today, consider in Divine Appeal 134: “I stoop down to your level so that you may not be overpowered by My immensity.”
There is something deeply consoling hidden within this Divine Appeal: Our Adorable Jesus understands the fragility of the human heart and knows that souls cannot bear the fullness of divine light all at once . The immensity of God, if unveiled without tenderness, could overwhelm wounded humanity like eyes fixed upon an unbearable brilliance. Therefore, Jesus bends low in mercy—not because His glory is diminished, but because His love is infinitely gentle. He veils majesty within nearness, eternity within simplicity, and divine power within tenderness so that souls may approach without fear and gradually learn to trust His Heart . He approaches humanity with a love intelligent enough to respect weakness. Throughout salvation history, God reveals Himself gradually, almost delicately, teaching wounded hearts little by little . Elijah did not meet God in terrifying force but in quiet stillness (cf. 1 Kgs 19:11–13). Even Moses (cf. Ex 33:18–23) encountered God through veiled encounters because human limitation could not yet sustain fullness . The Catechism reminds us that revelation unfolds according to humanity’s capacity to receive divine truth (cf. CCC 50–53). In daily life, Jesus still stoops quietly. He comes to the overwhelmed university student silently staring at unfinished assignments and fearing failure. He bends near the exhausted security guard struggling through long night shifts while wondering if life will ever improve. He sits beside the widow quietly eating supper alone after years of companionship. He enters the confusion of a young adult uncertain about career, vocation, or future direction. Rather than demanding instant perfection, Christ lowers His voice to the language of trust: one faithful prayer, one honest effort, one surrender at a time.
This Divine Appeal reaches extraordinary depth in the mystery of the Eucharist where divine immensity voluntarily becomes approachable. The One before whom angels veil themselves chooses silence under humble appearances because He knows humanity often fears what it cannot comprehend . Our Adorable Jesus becomes near enough to be touched, received, and adored. This is divine humility beyond imagination. Saint Peter Julian Eymard reflected profoundly on Christ hidden beneath Eucharistic simplicity, recognizing how divine love humbly adapts itself to human weakness and ordinary limitations. Likewise, Saint Teresa of Calcutta encountered Jesus concealed among the forgotten, learning that God often veils greatness beneath humble appearances . The Church (cf. CCC 1113–1131) teaches that Christ communicates invisible grace through visible realities suited to human humanity and weakness . Practically, this transforms daily struggles: the ordinary becomes a place of encounter, suffering becomes capable of grace, and hidden acts of love quietly acquire eternal significance . Jesus stoops into the life of a mother preparing meals while silently carrying financial worries no one sees. He waits patiently beside the motorbike rider anxious about daily income and dangerous roads. He accompanies the office worker silently blamed for mistakes not entirely theirs. He kneels near the seminarian wondering whether spiritual dryness means failure. At Eucharistic adoration, many discover something astonishing: Christ does not wait for emotional strength or spiritual excellence. He meets tired souls exactly where they are, allowing divine love to heal gradually through quiet companionship.
Another dimension of this appeal concerns spiritual growth. Many souls secretly despair because they imagine holiness means never struggling. Yet Jesus stoops precisely because He knows transformation happens slowly. Consider how patiently Our Adorable Jesus formed His disciples: Peter was impulsive, Thomas doubted, James and John sought prominence, and yet Christ never withdrew His formative love from them . God educates the soul with profound patience, allowing growth to unfold within real human weakness rather than outside it . Saint Francis de Sales encouraged souls not to be discouraged by repeated failure, but to trust that holiness matures gradually through persevering love and fidelity. Saint John Henry Newman reflected that divine guidance is often recognized only in hindsight, as grace slowly illumines meaning within ordinary events and hidden turns of life . In this way, God’s pedagogy is gentle, steady, and quietly transformative. The Catechism (cf. CCC 1996–2005) likewise teaches that grace builds upon nature, elevating it without destroying the genuine processes of human growth . In practical life, this becomes deeply human. Jesus stoops toward the young man trying sincerely to leave destructive habits but repeatedly beginning again. He walks beside the teacher growing impatient with difficult students yet quietly trying to love better tomorrow. He remains near the parent who regrets speaking harshly to children and chooses to apologize humbly. He strengthens the nurse emotionally exhausted after witnessing suffering daily. Christ does not despise imperfect beginnings. Sometimes holiness looks like quietly beginning again after another difficult day.
At the deepest level, vocation is not something the strong achieve, but something the willing slowly learn to receive. Our Adorable Jesus does not wait for human lives to become flawless before He entrusts them with His mission; He enters them exactly as they are, with their hesitation, limits, and unfinished growth . What He asks for is not perfection, but availability that does not close the door. This is why Scripture often shows God choosing those who feel unqualified. Gideon (cf. Judg 6:11–16) hides in fear, yet is called into courage . Esther is unsure of herself, yet steps into responsibility for others (cf. Esth 4:13–16). Mary lives hidden and simple, yet becomes the bearer of Christ (cf. Lk 1:26–38). Peter fails openly, yet is still trusted after his weakness is healed by love . None of them began strong; they became faithful by remaining open. In real life, this looks very ordinary. It is the person who feels unworthy but still prays. The parent who feels tired but still tries to love well. The young person who falls, gets up, and begins again without giving up on God. Apostolic life begins there—not in greatness, but in daily surrender. And slowly, quietly, God turns that small yes into something that carries His love into the world (cf. 2 Cor 12:9). The Catechism teaches that every baptized person shares in Christ’s mission according to their vocation (cf. CCC 871–873). This means holiness belongs everywhere. Jesus stoops into the mechanic honestly repairing vehicles despite economic pressure to cheat customers. He works quietly through a market vendor greeting difficult customers kindly despite exhaustion. He strengthens the religious sister praying faithfully when ministry feels unnoticed. He inspires the young professional refusing dishonest shortcuts to succeed faster. Apostolic holiness often looks hidden. A simple encouraging message sent to someone discouraged, listening patiently to an elderly relative repeating stories, refusing gossip among friends, or forgiving family wounds becomes sacred participation in Christ’s mission. Divine immensity quietly flows through ordinary fidelity.
This appeal carries an intensely mystical promise: Jesus stoops now because He desires to elevate souls gradually into divine intimacy. Heaven begins invisibly whenever love deepens trust. God lowers Himself because eternity itself would overwhelm the soul if received suddenly. Like a father teaching a child to walk patiently step by step, Jesus enlarges spiritual capacity through joys, disappointments, waiting, unanswered questions, hidden sacrifices, and ordinary faithfulness . The Catechism teaches that earthly life prepares souls for participation in divine life beyond imagination (cf. CCC 1023–1029). Yet this preparation happens through ordinary moments. Jesus stoops beside the graduate discouraged by unemployment. He stays close to the grandmother quietly praying for children who rarely call. He strengthens the catechist wondering if anyone remembers the lessons taught. He consoles the person carrying silent grief while still showing kindness outwardly. One day, souls will realize that every hidden moment of divine nearness was quietly preparing them to encounter God’s immensity without fear . What seemed like silence was never absence; it was the gentle nearness of Our Adorable Jesus, bending close in ways the heart could gradually learn to recognize. He was forming the soul through ordinary days, teaching it to discern eternal love hidden within simple moments, patient delays, and unnoticed graces . In this light, life is revealed not as abandonment, but as a long pedagogy of love leading into fullness.
Prayer
Our Adorable Jesus, You stoop lovingly into our fragile lives . When we feel lost or overwhelmed, awaken us to Your hidden presence. Form in us patient hearts that endure weakness with hope, until every limitation becomes space for Your transforming and eternal divine love. Amen.
Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.
Today, consider in Divine Appeal 134: "I give you a very keen pleasure in which you recognise Me and this fills you with joy to serve Me and bring Me souls. "
There exists a mysterious joy known only to souls who begin to perceive the hidden movements of grace. When Our Adorable Jesus speaks of granting a keen pleasure, He unveils a profound spiritual reality often misunderstood by the world. This joy is not mere emotional excitement, earthly success, or fleeting consolation; it is a sacred awakening whereby the soul quietly begins to taste divine nearness. Scripture (cf. Ps 16:11; Phil 4:4–7) repeatedly reveals that authentic spiritual delight arises from communion with God rather than external circumstances . Yet many fail to recognize this visitation because modern life trains hearts toward noise rather than recollection. A young professional who unexpectedly feels interior peace after Eucharistic adoration may dismiss it as mood. A mother exhausted by family burdens suddenly sensing consolation while praying the Rosary may fail to recognize grace touching her interior poverty. A seminarian overwhelmed by uncertainty may discover inexplicable joy while kneeling silently before the tabernacle. The Church (cf. CCC 2764, 2565; Ps 37:4) teaches that prayer slowly transforms human desire by conforming the soul to the very life of God . Such spiritual delight belongs not to sentimentality, but to recognition: the heart quietly awakening to divine nearness. St. Philip Neri understood holy joy as a gentle sign of friendship with God, where grace silently enlarges the soul’s capacity for love and freedom. In such moments, Heaven is not merely offering beautiful feelings, but extending a hidden invitation to recognize Our Adorable Jesus quietly present beneath ordinary life, daily duties, and unseen graces .
Yet the deeper mystery lies not merely in receiving spiritual consolation, but in recognizing the Giver hidden within it. Many souls experience grace without perceiving its source: peace without recognizing Christ’s nearness, strength without noticing His support, or unexpected hope without seeing the quiet action of divine mercy (cf. Lk 24:13–32). Our Adorable Jesus often walks silently beside the soul long before the soul fully recognizes Him, gently awakening the heart to a Presence already at work (cf. Jn 14:180). Scripture repeatedly reveals holy persons learning slowly to discern divine presence. Samuel (cf. 1 Sam 3:1–10) initially failed to recognize the voice calling him in the silence of night until spiritual guidance awakened discernment . Mary Magdalene stood near resurrection glory without immediate recognition because grief clouded spiritual sight (cf. Jn 20:11–18). Our Adorable Jesus reveals here that spiritual joy becomes a form of recognition—a divine fingerprint upon the soul. The Catechism (cf. CCC 153, 2700–2704) teaches that faith often matures through interior movements drawing the soul toward deeper communion . Yet discernment requires humility because false consolations also exist. A businessperson may confuse ambition with vocation. A ministry worker may mistake public praise for grace. A religious may cling to emotional comfort rather than God Himself. St. Ignatius of Loyola reflected deeply on discerning spiritual movements, teaching that authentic consolation gently leads the soul toward humility, deeper prayer, greater charity, and generous self-giving . Thus, when holy joy increases compassion, Eucharistic longing, patience, mercy, confession, and desire for holiness, the soul slowly begins to recognize the quiet footsteps of Our Adorable Jesus within ordinary life. Such recognition matures through silence, spiritual discipline, Sacred Scripture, and faithful perseverance in the sacramental life .
Once Christ is recognized more deeply, joy naturally transforms into loving service. Spiritual delight detached from mission becomes spiritual immaturity. The soul touched by divine nearness begins to desire not merely personal consolation but greater fidelity. Scripture repeatedly reveals that encounter produces apostolic response. Isaiah encountered divine holiness and immediately became willing to serve despite weakness (cf. Is 6:1–8). Zacchaeus experienced transforming encounter that changed relationships, priorities, and justice (cf. Lk 19:1–10). The Catechism (cf. CCC 1816, 2013) teaches that union with Christ necessarily opens the heart toward service and charity . Thus joy becomes fruitful when it matures into sacrifice. A teacher preparing lessons patiently for difficult students out of love for Christ sanctifies hidden labour. A doctor treating forgotten patients with tenderness ministers to Christ concealed in suffering humanity. A youth resisting peer pressure to remain morally faithful silently evangelizes companions. A parent praying for children despite exhaustion becomes apostle through endurance. St. Frances Xavier Cabrini transformed spiritual love into courageous action despite exhaustion and rejection. The soul that truly encounters Our Adorable Jesus slowly discovers an interior urgency: love desires expression. Prayer becomes service, suffering becomes offering, and ordinary duties become apostolic participation in Christ’s mission.
Yet one of the deepest signs of authentic divine joy is the desire to bring souls closer to God. The heart touched by grace cannot remain spiritually self-enclosed. This apostolic hunger belongs to the very Heart of Christ, who longs for humanity’s salvation (cf. Jn 17:20–23; 1 Tim 2:3–4). Scripture repeatedly reveals transformed souls becoming instruments of mercy. Andrew the Apostle immediately brought others after personal encounter (cf. Jn 1:40–42). The Samaritan Woman carried her experience into ordinary life, quietly awakening faith in others (cf. Jn 4:28–30). The Catechism teaches that every baptized soul shares responsibility in Christ’s evangelizing mission according to vocation (cf. CCC 849–856, 905). Yet bringing souls rarely means dramatic preaching alone. A grandmother praying daily for grandchildren. A public transport conductor acting honestly and kindly. A student refusing gossip and offering encouragement to lonely classmates. A religious sister smiling with patience toward difficult persons. A businessman refusing corruption while remaining compassionate. These hidden fidelities preach silently. St. Madeleine Sophie Barat believed transformed hearts influence countless others through quiet holiness. Souls are often drawn toward God not first through arguments, but through encountering peace, integrity, purity, mercy, and quiet joy radiating from lives deeply united to Him . A life transformed by grace becomes its own testimony, for holiness often speaks most powerfully through patience, humility, compassion, and faithful love lived consistently in ordinary circumstances .
Beneath the hidden movements of grace unfolds a sacred rhythm by which Our Adorable Jesus gently forms disciples: joy awakens recognition, recognition deepens trust, trust matures into service, (cf. Jn 15:5, 9–17) and service quietly blossoms into apostolic love . What begins as a personal encounter with divine goodness gradually expands outward, until the soul no longer lives only for itself but becomes a quiet instrument through which Christ continues loving, healing, and drawing others to Himself . Our Adorable Jesus grants holy joy not for spiritual selfishness but for mission. The Catechism (cf. CCC 1, 759, 2603) reminds souls that the Christian vocation ultimately participates in God’s plan of communion and salvation . St. Elizabeth Ann Seton discovered profound trials could coexist with divine joy when suffering became united to Christ. Thus, every vocation becomes fertile ground for holiness. A mechanic offering frustrations patiently. A priest remaining available despite fatigue. A widow transforming loneliness into intercession. A student intern persevering in prayer amidst distractions. A mother carrying hidden worries while remaining gentle. A farmer blessing labour before sunrise. These become living witnesses that divine joy survives suffering. Our Adorable Jesus seeks contemplative souls who recognize Him in silence, love Him through fidelity, serve Him within ordinary responsibilities, and quietly draw others toward His Eucharistic Heart (cf. Jn 15:4–5; CCC 2715). The deepest joy of the spiritual life is not merely feeling close to God, but becoming quietly available to His saving work: allowing His mercy to flow through hidden sacrifices, faithful duties, patient love, and persevering prayer . In this way, even ordinary lives become silent instruments through which Christ continues loving the world.
Prayer
Our Adorable Jesus, fill us with joy in Your constant presence. Cleanse our hearts from distraction and sin. Transform our daily work into prayer, and our struggles into offerings of love. Lead us in faithful service and tireless labour for souls entrusted to our care. Amen.
Sr. Anna Ali of the Most Holy Eucharist, intercede for us.