Do we have to do large, heroic things for God? Who defines what is "large"? Humanity?
Jesus taught that only those who could become like children would enter His kingdom. I don't think he meant "simple mindedness" or "intellectual simplicity". I think he referred to the humility of children.
It doesn't occur to young children to make things complicated. They just act, trusting that the details will be covered for them. They show humility. They expect that their little efforts will bear fruit.
Therese of Lisieux figured this out at a young age, and she carried this childlike humility with her into adulthood. She knew that heroic acts or great deeds weren't necessary to please God. She knew that it was the little things that personified Love and gave Love form. She knew that just taking baby steps--and giving them to Him--was enough. Therese's "Little Way" was all about doing just this: doing every little thing for God just to please Him. Nothing more. If we could do this even a little each day, think of the practical repercussions for those around us.
I think Therese's "Little Way" is just another way of saying, "Take a small step towards God, offer him yourself, and get out of the way."
I don't know about you, but getting my mind out of the way is my problem. I think too much about stuff that doesn't matter in the scheme of things. I waste precious life moments making plans instead of quietly listening. My intellect has been exercised far more than my skills at stillness.
However, I have high hopes. I have hope that, over time, God will change in me this active-thinking-to-stillness ratio. I have hope that I can continue to discipline my mind by practicing stillness in the form of Centering Prayer. I have hope that I can stay in him throughout my day and content myself with giving to him every little thing I do, like flowers.
If God ever does ask me to do something that seems heroic in the world's eyes, then all I really need to do is take a small step towards him and say, "I'm here, Lord". And get out of the way.
