Conviction and Openness: A Walk Toward Clarity

This morning, while taking a long walk, I stumbled on a thought: conviction is an important lever—when it is pulled in the right direction. The rhythm of walking often brings clarity. Step after step, the mind loosens, ideas surface, and what seemed tangled begins to unravel. That was the case today, as I found myself reflecting on the tension between conviction and openness.

It is tempting to live in the space of “anything goes.” In that space, no stand is taken, no values are held firmly, and everything is negotiable. At first glance, this posture may look like openness. It may even feel like freedom. But beneath it lies a subtle danger: drifting without anchor.

Without conviction, we risk becoming spectators of life, measuring those who do take a stand as extreme, proud, or closed-minded, while we ourselves avoid the discomfort of commitment.

Yet conviction, when rightly placed, is not a prison. It is an anchor. It provides clarity, direction, and depth. It allows us to say, “This is where I stand,” and to live with the assuredness that comes from knowing what matters most. Conviction is not about stubbornness for its own sake; it is about recognizing that some truths, values, or principles are worth holding onto—even when they are unpopular, even when they demand sacrifice.

Still, conviction alone is not enough. Without openness, conviction can harden into arrogance. It can become brittle, unable to withstand questioning or growth. That is why openness must walk alongside conviction. But openness, too, is often misunderstood. It is not the absence of values or the refusal to hold non-negotiables. True openness means standing firmly on something, while remaining willing to interrogate it—with evidence, logic, or faith. It is the courage to ask: Am I on the right path, or am I simply drifting in the comfort of “anything goes”?

Think of a tree. Its roots run deep, anchoring it to the soil. That is conviction. But its branches stretch outward, reaching for sunlight, bending with the wind. That is openness. A tree without roots is easily toppled. A tree without branches is lifeless. Together, roots and branches create strength and vitality.

In our daily lives, this balance plays out in countless ways. Consider relationships. A friendship or marriage thrives when both people hold convictions about loyalty, respect, and love. But it also requires openness—the willingness to listen, to adapt, to grow together. Without conviction, the relationship lacks stability. Without openness, it suffocates.

Or think about work. A leader must have conviction about vision and values. Without it, the team drifts. But that leader must also remain open—to feedback, to innovation, to the possibility that a better way exists. Conviction provides direction; openness ensures relevance.

Faith offers another example. For many, faith is the deepest conviction. It is the belief that life has meaning beyond the visible, that there is an eternal sequence of things. But faith, too, calls for openness—the willingness to wrestle with doubt, to ask questions, to seek understanding. Faith without openness risks becoming rigid dogma. Openness without faith risks dissolving into aimlessness. It is important to mention here that openness does not overide the infallibility of the scripture, but a readiness to understand it better.

Conviction and openness are not opposites. They are partners. Together, they create a posture that is both rooted and reflective. This posture is safer, because it resists the extremes of arrogance and drift. And it is truer, because it aligns us with the eternal sequence of things.

The challenge, of course, is practical.

How do we cultivate both conviction and openness?

• First, identify your non-negotiables. What values or truths do you refuse to compromise? Write them down. Name them clearly. These are your anchors.
• Second, practice interrogation. Ask yourself regularly: Why do I believe this? Is it bearing fruit? Does it align with truth, logic, or faith? Conviction that cannot withstand questioning is fragile.
• Third, listen deeply. Openness begins with listening—not to agree with everything, but to understand. Listening stretches our perspective and tests our convictions.
• Fourth, embrace humility. Conviction without humility becomes arrogance. Openness without humility becomes indecision. Humility keeps both in balance.
• Finally, walk. Literally. Walking slows us down, clears our minds, and creates space for reflection. As I discovered this morning, a simple walk can open the door to profound clarity.

In the end, life is not about standing for everything or nothing. It is about standing for something solid, and ensuring that what we stand on aligns with the eternal sequence of things. Conviction becomes not just a lever, but a compass. And openness becomes not just flexibility, but wisdom.

So, as I walked this morning, I realized: the safest place to be is not on the high horse of “anything goes,” nor in the rigid fortress of unexamined conviction. The safest place is where roots and branches meet—where conviction anchors us, and openness stretches us toward the light.