Catholic women are rightly careful about what gets into our heads. We don't want every modern, secular self-help idea shaping how we see ourselves. Good.
But sometimes, in trying to keep the world out, we accidentally block out major parts of our own faith.
Recently I heard women say things like:
"We don't need to know our unique gifts. I just want to be like Jesus."
"I don't think I'm particularly good at anything. I don't really have dreams. I just want God to refine all the bad parts of me so I can look like Him."
It sounds humble. It sounds holy. But it's not our faith.
It leaves out giant pieces of what the Church teaches: our God-given gifts, our charisms, and the way God designed us to have desires, be motivated by them, and be willing to die to ourselves to achieve them.
Becoming like Jesus doesn't erase you
Grace doesn't wipe out who God made you to be. St. Thomas Aquinas puts it simply: "grace does not destroy nature, but perfects it" (Summa Theologiae I, q. 1, a. 8).
God isn't sanding you down into a generic saint. He's perfecting the particular woman He created. Look at the saints: St. Teresa of Ávila, St. Thérèse, St. Gianna, St. Catherine of Siena. All of them became like Christ, and none of them became like each other.
Your gifts were given to be used
The Church teaches that the Holy Spirit gives charisms, special graces given "for the common good" and "the building up of the Church" (CCC 799–801). St. Peter says, "As each has received a gift, employ it for one another, as good stewards of God's varied grace" (1 Peter 4:10).
And Jesus told a whole parable about a servant who buried his talent because he was afraid. The master didn't call him humble. He called him "wicked and slothful" (Matthew 25:26).
Not knowing your gifts isn't a virtue. Burying them isn't either.
Aquinas has a name for shrinking back
Aquinas praises a virtue called magnanimity, greatness of soul. It is the virtue that stretches toward great things that are truly worthy, while relying on God (ST II-II, q. 129).
And he names its opposite: pusillanimity, small-souledness. It's when a person shrinks back from what she's capable of and refuses to reach for the good that's proportioned to her ability. Aquinas says plainly that this is a sin (ST II-II, q. 133).
We've been so busy hammering the vice of pride that we missed the woman on the other side, the one who's been shrinking herself for years and feeling holy about it. Every virtue sits between two vices. Humility isn't the opposite of greatness; it's the truth about where your greatness comes from.
Desire is part of the design
Aquinas teaches that every human being naturally desires happiness, and that God made us to be drawn toward the good (ST I-II, q. 5, a. 8). Your desires aren't the problem. Disordered desires are. Rightly ordered desires are fuel.
"Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart" (Psalm 37:4).
Holy desire is what makes dying to yourself possible. A mother gives up sleep and comfort because she loves her child. A saint embraces the cross because she wants Christ. You don't die to yourself in a vacuum. You die to yourself for something.
So, what has God put in you?
Try these questions in prayer this week:
What do people regularly come to me for?
What do I do that leaves me tired but full instead of drained?
What do I quietly want, that I've been embarrassed to say out loud?
Where have I called hiding "humility"?
Lord, what did You make me for?
Then bring the answers to Christ, not to judge them, but to let Him refine them and call them forward.
Refinement and calling
Yes, God refines. But the Refiner doesn't melt down the gold to throw it away. He purifies it so it can shine (Malachi 3:3).
Inside Rising Tide Fellowship, we do both: we let Christ order what's out of order, and we let Him call forth the gifts He placed in us. The Virtue Study helps you see which vice you actually drift toward. The Refinery helps you take the next faithful step toward what He's calling you to build.
Not sure where to start? Take the free Virtue Quiz.
