Imposter Sin-drome?

Every time I sit down to write for this blog, a familiar voice creeps in: Who do you think you are? It’s a persistent question that echoes through my mind, challenging my right to share thoughts about faith, theology, and life as a Catholic. I’m not a theologian. I’ve never pursued formal training in doctrine or apologetics. I’m not a priest or a deacon. I’m just a Catholic layperson with a love for the Church.

And yet, here I am.

This past spring, I attended a retreat, and during spiritual direction, I shared these very feelings with the priest. “Father, I look around and see all of these successful men, and I’ve messed up more times than I’ve gotten things right. I wonder to myself, What in the hell am I doing here? Father, I feel like an imposter.”

He looked at me with a smile and said, “You too? I can’t believe after all these years, they still let me put this collar on.”

We both laughed. It was a deeply human moment, a reminder that even priests—those we often place on pedestals—have their own doubts and struggles. That conversation helped me realize that feeling unworthy is part of being human. It’s not about being perfect; it’s about being faithful, leaning on God despite our limits and failings.

***** DISCLAIMER *****

Let me be clear: I am not an official teacher of the Church. I’m a layperson who, like many of you, is learning as I go. While my time as a catechist gave me some tools and insights, I’m not an expert. Everything I write comes from the perspective of someone striving to grow closer to God and to live faithfully according to the Church’s teachings.

This blog is not a source of formal instruction. Instead, think of it as a conversation—one Catholic sharing their reflections on life and faith with others. I try to ensure what I share aligns with the truth of the Church, but I encourage you to always seek out Scripture, the Catechism, and trusted sources for deeper understanding.

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Despite these feelings of inadequacy, I’ve come to believe that lay voices have a special role in the Church. My time as a catechist taught me that we don’t need perfect credentials to make a difference. Often, what students appreciated most wasn’t my theological knowledge but my willingness to listen, to share my own faith struggles, and to meet them where they were.

Laypeople bring unique insights to the faith. We live it in the world, navigating its challenges and joys in real time. We juggle work, family, community, and personal struggles, all while striving to remain faithful. That lived experience matters.

I think of St. Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 12:12-27, where he reminds us that the Body of Christ is made up of many parts, each with its own unique purpose. Laypeople have a vital role in that body, not to supplant the teachings of the Magisterium, but to witness to how those teachings can transform everyday life.

When doubt creeps in, I ground myself in the Church’s wisdom. I consult Scripture, the Catechism, and writings from saints and Church Fathers. I ask for guidance from the Holy Spirit. And most importantly, I pray.

I’ve also come to realize that feeling like an imposter might actually be a gift. It reminds me to stay humble, to lean on God rather than my own understanding, and to keep striving to learn and grow. It’s a reminder that none of us is perfect, and that perfection isn’t required to do God’s work.

If you’ve ever hesitated to share your faith because you felt unworthy or unqualified, let me offer some encouragement: You’re not alone, and you don’t have to be an expert to share your journey. God doesn’t call the equipped; He equips the called. And every one of us is called to be a light in the world, even if that light flickers sometimes.

As long as you stay rooted in Christ and His Church, your voice matters.

Yes, I feel like an imposter sometimes. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. It keeps me humble. It keeps me reliant on God. And it reminds me that this blog isn’t about having all the answers, it’s about sharing the beauty of a faith-filled life, one post at a time. For me, more than anything, this is my therapy.

So, if you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading. And thank you for walking with me on this journey of faith, doubt, and trust. Let’s keep growing together, one step y una mas cerveza at a time.