When The Pendulum Finds Its Center
Healing beyond shame, self-glorification, and the extremes that once defined us
I have been thinking about the pendulum of healing. When we are wounded, we often live at one extreme. The pain pulls us so far in one direction, we begin to believe this is simply a part of who we are. Maybe we become silent because speaking once felt dangerous. Maybe we become overly agreeable because rejection taught us, belonging had to be earned. Maybe we accept blame for everything because someone convinced us every conflict was our fault. Maybe we make ourselves small because being seen once came with consequences. Maybe we live under a story that says we are difficult, selfish, unworthy, broken, unwanted, or too much.
For years, we may not even recognize the extremity of the place where we are living. It feels normal because it was built slowly over time. It was formed through experiences, relationships, betrayal, shame, abandonment, fear, and all the ways we learned to survive, then something begins to awaken. We recognize the behavior we are seeing in ourselves is toxic, unhealthy. We realize it is no longer serving us. We see the ways it has distorted our relationships, our identity, and the life we were created to live and when awareness comes, the pendulum begins to move but rarely stops in the center. It swings often all the way to the other side.
The person who never had boundaries may suddenly build walls no one can cross.
The person who never spoke may begin speaking every thought with no regard for how it lands.
The person who lived in shame may begin declaring only their greatness.
The person who gave everything away may decide they owe nothing to anyone.
The person who was constantly controlled may become controlling.
The person who once believed every criticism may refuse to receive any correction at all.
The person who lived a lie about being worthless may begin living another incomplete story, one in which they only acknowledge everything wonderful about themselves.
In the beginning, the opposite extreme can feel like freedom and maybe, for a time, it is necessary. Maybe we need to swing hard in the other direction to understand another reality exists. If I have spent my entire life believing I have no value, I may need a season of declaring my worth loudly. If I have spent years apologizing for existing, I may need a season of refusing to apologize for taking up space. If I have lived entirely for other people, I may need to discover what it means to choose myself. If I have accepted every accusation, I may need to learn how to defend the truth about who I am.
The opposite side of the pendulum introduces us to something we were once unable to see, teaching us the reality we lived in was not the only reality. This is the law of polarity: where one reality exists, its opposite also exists.
If there is darkness, there is light.
If there is weakness, there is strength.
If there is grief, there is joy.
If there is selfishness within me, generosity also exists within me.
If I am capable of causing harm, I am also capable of healing.
If I have failed, I have also grown.
If I have been wounded, I can also become whole.
The awareness of one side opens our eyes to the existence of the other, but healing is not simply moving from one extreme to another. Eventually, God begins inviting us toward the center.
There was a time when I lived under the weight of everything wrong with me. I could see every mistake, every flaw, every place I fell short , every moment I failed to be the person I believed I should have been. I could and would find evidence everywhere I was not enough. Then, as I began healing, I started seeing the other side. I saw my goodness.
My strength.
My courage.
My capacity to love.
My resilience.
My ability to endure, rebuild, learn, and transform.
I began to get a glimpse everything beautiful inside me that pain had once hidden, the recognition was necessary. I needed to know my wounds were not the whole story. I needed to know I was not defined by what had happened to me or by the worst decisions I had made. I needed to discover my voice, my value, my strength, and the sacredness of my existence but even truth can become another extreme if I have to protect it constantly.
If I need every person to acknowledge my goodness, then I am still not free.
If I need to defend my value in every conflict, then I am still being defined by the opinions of others.
If I can only feel worthy when I am focused on my strength, success, goodness, or growth, then my identity is still fragile.
The pendulum may have moved, but it is still controlling me. At one extreme, I am defined by everything wrong with me. At the other extreme, I am defined by everything admirable about me.
One side says, “I am terrible.” The other says, “I am amazing ”, both sides require me to prove something, keeping me preoccupied with myself and depend on a constant evaluation of whether I am good or bad, succeeding or failing, worthy or unworthy. God seems to be saying, “Neither side is the fullness of who you are.”
You are not your worst moment.
You are not your greatest achievement.
You are not the cruelest thing someone said about you.
You are not the praise someone offered you.
You are valuable because you exist.
Your existence is evidence of the love created you.
This has become a profound truth in my life: If a human being is here, that human being is loved.
They do not have to prove it. They do not have to earn it. Their value does not increase when they behave well or disappear when they fall short. The breath within them is evidence they were desired into existence by the Creator of the universe and changes the way I have to see myself and changes the way I am called to see everyone else.
Do I treat every person as though their existence is sacred?
Do I recognize the image of God in people I disagree with?
Do I honor the humanity of people who have wounded me?
Do I believe that someone can be deeply valuable and still deeply harmful?
Can I hold the truth a person is loved by God while also refusing to allow their behavior access to my life?
That is the center. The center does not require me to deny what is wrong. The center does not pretend destructive behavior is acceptable. The center does not erase accountability. It simply refuses to confuse behavior with value.
A person can be valuable and dishonest.
A person can be loved and selfish.
A person can carry the breath of God and still cause tremendous pain.
A person can be generous in one moment and cruel in another.
All of it can exist within the same human being. That includes me.
I can be deeply loving and still become self-centered.
I can be compassionate and still act out of fear.
I can be honest and still have places where I hide.
I can be strong and still behave out of woundedness.
I can bring healing into one space and harm into another, truth in what every way it swings does not destroy me or define me anymore. It humbles me. I do not have to deny the parts of myself that fall short in order to believe I am valuable. I do not have to exaggerate my goodness to escape shame, both exist.
I am capable of beauty.
I am capable of brokenness.
I am capable of courage.
I am capable of fear.
I am capable of love.
I am capable of choosing something that stands against love but none of those individual realities completely define me. I am a human being held in the love of God, continuously invited to become more whole.
A Time for Every Side of Us
Perhaps this is why Ecclesiastes tells us there is a season for everything, a time to be born and a time to die, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance. There is a time for every part of the healing journey. A time to look directly at everything within us that is ugly, wounded, selfish, fearful, dishonest, or destructive and a time to stop avoiding the places where we have fallen short. There is a season for confronting our shadows, taking responsibility, grieving the harm we have caused, and allowing God to uncover what we have tried to keep buried, but there is also a time to look at everything good within us. There is a season for recognizing our courage, our compassion, our strength, our generosity, our resilience, and our capacity to love. There is a time to celebrate how far we have come. There is a time to recover the parts of ourselves shame convinced us did not exist. Maybe this is another expression of the law of polarity.
There is a time when we must become aware of one side because we have lived too long in the other. If I have only seen my brokenness, there may be a season when God invites me to see my beauty. If I have only celebrated my goodness, there may be a season when God lovingly confronts the places where I still cause harm. If I have spent my life making myself small, there may be a time to become loud, visible, and unafraid. If I have lived as though I am the center of everything, there may be a time to become humble, quiet, and teachable.
Every season has something to reveal.
Every side of the pendulum has something to teach us and eventually there comes a point when we are no longer asked to live at either extreme. There comes a season of peace.
A season when I no longer have to stare constantly at everything wrong with me.
A season when I no longer have to rehearse everything wonderful about me just to feel valuable.
I can know both realities exist at the same time.
There are beautiful things within me.
There are broken things within me.
I am capable of great love.
I am capable of selfishness.
I can be generous and still have places where I withhold.
I can be courageous and still become controlled by fear.
I can bring healing into one person’s life and still need to take responsibility for the places where I have caused pain, both realities are true.
But neither reality is the complete truth of who I am. My goodness does not define me. My brokenness does not define me. My accomplishments do not define me . My failures do not define me. My best season is not the measure of my worth, and my worst season cannot erase it. The peace in the middle is knowing all of it exists within my humanity while none of it has the authority to determine my value. Maybe maturity is learning to honor the season without building our identity inside it.
There was a time when I needed to look at everything wounded within me.
There was a time when I needed to see everything powerful and beautiful within me. Now there is a time to rest in the truth I am fully known. I do not have to divide myself into the good parts and the bad parts. I do not have to exile one side in order to embrace the other. God already sees the entire landscape of who I am. The love of God is not surprised by my darkness or increased by my light. I am loved in the wholeness of my humanity, this is the center.
Not denying the season.
Not rushing the lesson.
Not pretending the extremes never existed.
It is simply knowing when the season has changed.
There is a time to examine.
There is a time to celebrate.
There is a time to grieve.
There is a time to rebuild.
And there is a time to become still in the love of God.
A time to live peacefully in the middle, fully human, completely known, still growing while never defined by either side.
The Center Is Not Indifference
The middle of the pendulum is not numbness.
It is not a place where nothing matters.
It is not a refusal to feel grief over the ways we fall short.
The center is the place where our reactions are no longer controlling us.
I can acknowledge, “I acted selfishly,” without collapsing into, “I am a terrible person.”
I can recognize, “I handled that well,” without needing to build an identity around being better than someone else.
I can receive correction without believing I have lost my worth.
I can receive praise without becoming dependent on it.
I can feel sorrow for the harm I caused without turning that sorrow into self-hatred.
I can celebrate my growth without pretending I have arrived.
The center allows me to tell the truth.
I am grieved I still fall short.
I am grateful I am no longer defined by it.
I am grateful for how far I have come.
I am humbled by how much growing I still have to do.
I can hold both realities without being torn apart by either one, this is peace.
Not perfection.
Not the absence of flaws.
Not the absence of conflict.
Peace is the ability to remain rooted while the pendulum tries to pull us toward an extreme.
The Defense Mechanisms of Polarity
I think many of my-our defenses come from trying to protect one side of our identity.
We defend our goodness because we are afraid someone will expose our flaws.
We defend our flaws because we are afraid growth will require responsibility.
We protect the story we are strong because we are terrified of anyone seeing our weakness.
We cling to the story we are wounded because healing would require us to step into a new life.
We become outraged when someone questions us because we are still unsure of ourselves.
We need to win the argument because losing feels like annihilation.
We need others to see our intentions because we cannot tolerate the reality our actions may have caused harm.
We need to prove we are good because somewhere inside us, we are still afraid we are not.
When we become anchored in the love of God, we no longer have to defend one side so fiercely.
I can admit that my intentions were loving and my impact was harmful. I can acknowledge someone wounded me and that I also responded out of my own woundedness. I can know, I am worthy of respect while recognizing I have not always acted respectfully. I can hold the fullness of the truth without needing one reality to erase the other, this is not weakness.
It may be one of the greatest forms of strength.
It takes courage to stop protecting an image of yourself.
It takes maturity to become curious rather than defensive.
It takes security to say, “There may be something here for me to look at.”
It takes deep rootedness to hear an accusation, examine it honestly, keep what is true, and release what is not. The center is where we stop being controlled by the need to prove ourselves.
Jesus at the Center
When I look at the life of Jesus, I see someone who lived in that center. Jesus knew exactly who he was. He knew who he belonged to. He did not require the crowds to validate him. He was not destroyed when they misunderstood him. He did not become greater when people praised him or less valuable when people rejected him.
One moment, crowds were following him, another moment, people were leaving. One moment, they were calling him a teacher and healer, another moment, they were calling him dangerous, deceptive, or blasphemous. Jesus did not swing with their opinions.
He did not have to defend himself in every room.
He did not chase after everyone who walked away.
He did not allow admiration to inflate him or accusation to erase him.
He remained rooted. There was no frantic need to prove his goodness.
No desperate need to protect his reputation.
No collapse when others refused to understand.
Jesus lived from the peaceful knowing of identity.
He knew who he was.
He knew the Spirit that sent him.
He knew his purpose.
He knew another person’s inability to recognize the truth did not change the truth, this is the center I want to live from.
Not the extreme of believing I am worthless.
Not the extreme of having to convince everyone I am wonderful.
Not living beneath shame.
Not living above correction.
Just standing in the quiet truth:
I am loved.
I am valuable.
I am human.
I am capable of greatness.
I am capable of falling short.
I am responsible for the way I live.
I am invited to grow, and none of it can separate me from the love of God.
When the Swinging Slows
Healing may begin with dramatic swings. We go from silence to speaking loudly. From having no boundaries to guarding every entrance. From believing nothing good about ourselves to declaring everything good within us. From accepting every criticism to rejecting all criticism and eventually, if we continue healing, the swinging begins to slow.
We no longer react as quickly.
We stop needing every conflict to confirm whether we are good or bad.
We become less easily thrown by praise or criticism.
We stop building our identity around our best days and destroying it on our worst ones.
We begin living with clarity, not the false clarity saying one side is completely right and the other is completely wrong, but the deeper clarity of allowing two truths to exist at once.
I can be wounded and responsible for my healing.
I can be compassionate and have boundaries.
I can be powerful and gentle.
I can be confident and teachable.
I can be flawed and deeply loved.
I can fall short and still be worthy.
I can be proud of my growth and remain humble about the journey ahead. The pendulum does not have to stop moving entirely.
Life will still pull at us. Old wounds will still be touched. There will be moments when shame tries to drag us back toward one extreme and pride tries to pull us toward the other. The more rooted we become, the sooner we return to center.
We notice the swing.
We become curious.
We breathe.
We listen.
We tell the truth.
We remember who we are, then we return. Maybe healing is not never being moved again. Maybe healing is knowing the way home.
• Where are you currently living at one extreme of the pendulum?
• What opposite truth have you only recently begun to discover?
• Have you mistaken the opposite extreme for complete healing?
• Do you need others to confirm your goodness in order to feel secure?
• Are you able to acknowledge your flaws without turning against yourself?
• Are you able to recognize your strengths without using them to place yourself above others?
• What defense mechanism appears when someone questions you?
• Can you receive correction without allowing it to define you?
• Can you accept you are capable of both beauty and brokenness?
• What would it look like to honor the season you are in without building your identity inside it?
• What would it look like to live from the center, rooted not in your goodness or your failures, but in the unchanging love of God?
Yahweh, Creator of all life,
Slow the pendulum within us. Meet us in the places where woundedness has pulled us toward extremes. Reveal every reaction, defense, belief, and behavior formed in pain but no longer leads us toward life. When shame tells us we are nothing but our failures, remind us we are loved. When pride tells us we must protect an image of our goodness, give us the humility to tell the truth. Teach us to acknowledge our flaws without condemning ourselves. Teach us to recognize our strengths without worshiping them. Help us understand neither our worst moments nor our greatest achievements define us. Our value is not something we earn. Our existence is evidence of Your love. Give us the courage to see all that lives within us-the light and the darkness, the generosity and the selfishness, the courage and the fear-without hiding, defending, or turning away.
Have mercy on us for the ways our wounds have caused us to wound others. Have mercy on us for every time we protected our image instead of taking responsibility. Have mercy on us for the moments we chose defensiveness over curiosity, certainty over humility, and reaction over peace.
Let Your love become the center of our lives. When the world praises us, keep us grounded.
When others misunderstand us, keep us rooted. When correction comes, make us teachable.
When shame comes, remind us we are already known. When old wounds pull us toward familiar extremes, show us the way back home.
Teach us to walk as Yeshua walked, not frantic, not defensive, not controlled by applause or rejection, but peaceful in the knowing of identity, purpose, and belonging. Let us be grieved by the ways we still fall short, but grateful we are no longer defined by them. Let us celebrate how far we have come while remaining open to the transformation still ahead. Help us honor every season-the time to examine, the time to grieve, the time to celebrate, the time to rebuild, and the time to become still. Bring the divided places within us together.
Slow the swinging.
Quiet the reactions.
Release the defenses.
Anchor us in truth.
Hold us in love and lead us gently into the center, where we can live fully human, deeply humble, completely known, and forever loved.
