7 Deadly Sins Test

The 7 Deadly Sins Test is inspired by psychometric methodology and based on the classical catalogue of vices found in the Christian moral tradition. The test provides feedback such as the following:

Lust

Lust is the burning appetite among the sins: the pull of desire, attraction, and sensation that wants its object now. People with a strong lustful streak live close to their senses — charmed and charming, hungry for intensity, restless when life turns tepid. The tradition treats lust not as the enjoyment of pleasure but as its tyranny: the moment when desire stops serving love and starts commanding it. Beneath the craving there is often a genuine gift for delight and connection that colder temperaments never taste. The old cure is temperance rather than denial — desire kept on a leash it can respect — so that passion deepens devotion instead of scattering it, and pleasure remains a guest rather than a master.

Pride

Pride is the oldest of the sins — the one the tradition calls the root of all the rest: the conviction of standing above others, needing no one, deserving the crown. The proud carry themselves with confidence, set exacting standards, and often earn genuine admiration; excellence is their native language. But pride's shadow work is constant: it cannot admit error, cannot ask for help, and hears every criticism as an attack. Under the armor there is often a lonely perfectionism — a fear that being ordinary means being unlovable. Humility, its ancient remedy, is not self-abasement but accurate self-knowledge: the discovery that asking for help draws people near, and that admiration is sweeter when it does not have to be defended.

Gluttony

Gluttony is the sin of too much: the appetite that keeps consuming after satisfaction has come and gone. The modern glutton's table is bigger than food — episodes, feeds, purchases, and second helpings of every pleasant thing. People inclined toward gluttony are usually life's enthusiasts: generous hosts, cheerful company, lovers of comfort who want everyone fed and no one hurried. The trouble begins where enjoyment ends and mere continuation takes over — consumption as anesthesia rather than celebration. Tradition pairs gluttony with the remedy of temperance, and its lesson is the enthusiast's paradox: the person who can stop at enough tastes more than the one who cannot, because delight lives in the savoring, not the volume.

Envy

Envy is the comparing sin: the sideways glance that measures one's own life against a neighbor's and finds it wanting. Those who wrestle with envy are keen observers of other people's fortunes — quick to notice the promotion, the praise, the ease that others seem to enjoy. The sting is real, and it is usually rooted in longing rather than malice: envy is desire wearing a wound. It can curdle into resentment, but it can also reveal, with great precision, what a person truly wants. The classical remedy is kindness — willing the good of the very people one envies — and gratitude, which turns the gaze homeward until one's own life stops looking like someone else's leftovers.

Wrath

Wrath is the fire among the seven deadly sins: the swift surge of anger that answers insult with heat rather than patience. People with a strong pull toward wrath feel injustice keenly and react to it immediately — the sharp word, the slammed door, the grudge carefully kept alive. Their anger often springs from loyalty and wounded ideals; they burn hottest on behalf of the people and principles they love. Yet the same flame that fuels courage can scorch friendships and cloud judgment, and old grievances can smolder for years. The medieval moralists prescribed patience as wrath's remedy, and that is the wrathful person's quiet lifework: learning to let the fire warm rather than consume, turning righteous heat into steady resolve.

Sloth

Sloth is the heaviest of the sins — not simple laziness, but the deep inertia the old monks called acedia: the noonday listlessness that makes every task feel like lifting stone. People inclined toward sloth postpone, avoid, and drift; they guard their rest jealously and let others set the pace. Often the stillness hides sensitivity rather than indifference — dread of failure, of responsibility, of caring too much and being hurt. Sloth's secret virtue is contentment: the slothful are rarely driven to trample others in ambition's name. Its remedy, the tradition says, is diligence practiced in small steps — the discovery that beginning is the only hard part, and that motion, once started, carries its own reward.

Greed

Greed is the grasping sin: the hunger to acquire and to keep, whether the treasure is money, possessions, or advantage. Those drawn to greed are collectors and counters by instinct — they know what they have, what they are owed, and what they want next. Beneath the acquisitiveness usually lies something softer: a memory of scarcity, a fear that there will not be enough, a belief that security can be stockpiled. Greed's gifts are real — prudence, industry, an eye for value — but its price is a fist that cannot open. Tradition names charity as its cure, and the greedy soul's journey is exactly that: discovering that what is given away binds people closer than anything hoarded.