Reading the recent case of the six trainee lawyers who cheated in their 2020 Bar exams, I found myself caught in a barrage of conflicting thoughts.
My first response was: How dishonest! How can we ever trust them again? They should never be allowed to practise law—ever!
But then I reasoned: Well, I’m in no position to throw stones. Haven’t I cheated in classroom tests in school before? And don’t we, as Christians, believe in forgiveness? If they are truly sorry, shouldn’t they be given a second chance?
Then another thought came: There’s forgiveness . . . but there’s also the principle of facing the consequences of one’s actions. Shouldn’t they be made to pay more for their “sin”?
Clearly, I’m not the only one to have such conflicting thoughts. Since news of the cheating broke, responses to the six have been intense—and, apparently, mixed.
Some believe the students—whose applications to be called to the Bar were held back after they were found out—were let off too lightly. A decision by the courts to not publish their names also drew criticism.
Yet, I’m sure some must have also felt that the six deserved a second chance. This was the reasoning given for the decision not to name the would-be lawyers.
In the latest turn of events, this decision was reversed by the courts, with the judge noting that different people have different ideas of what it means to give someone a second chance—and whether it should be given or not.
The judge observed of second chances, most saliently, that “there are those who need them, and those who give them. And in between, there is a vast stretch in which we can debate to no end as to who is deserving and who is not.”
That, I think, is an apt description of the dilemma that some of us feel when it comes to people who have done wrong.
On one hand, we recognise that no-one should be spared punishment for wrongdoing, as well as the consequences of their actions. That, after all, is the crux of justice. As Colossians 3:25 warns: “Anyone who does wrong will be repaid for their wrongs, and there is no favouritism.”
On the other hand, we also believe in the importance of forgiveness, of giving someone a second chance. That’s how mercy works. We follow a God who is “compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love” (Psalm 103:8).
In a way, this dilemma characterises the mystery of the gospel which we believe. God, being just and righteous, cannot simply spare sinners the deserved punishment and consequences of sin. At the same time, being loving and merciful, He sent His Son Jesus to die for us in our place, so that the requirements of justice would be met while we could still be saved (Romans 3:25-26).
Contradicting as they might seem, justice and grace are closely tied—and interdependent. Mercy and forgiveness would not be meaningful if justice is not upheld in the first place. We need to recognise the enormity of sin, before we can appreciate how amazing God’s grace is.
Perhaps that’s how we can respond to instances of wrongdoing around us—whether by us or by others. Recognising the significance of sin, we accept that God-displeasing decisions have consequences which may be tough on us, even if they may seem “unfair” at times.
At the same time, along with the consequences, come the forgiveness and the second chances. This would mean allowing someone to put a past error behind him, and giving him the benefit of doubt that he has regretted his mistake and genuinely wants to make good.
How we can apply these truths in real-life situations, of course, will take wisdom and discernment. The saying, “Love the sinner, hate the sin”, is often quoted as a principle. What does it really mean in practical terms?
To be sure, it means recognising that a wrong is a wrong, and not trying to justify or excuse wrongdoing, or to blame it on something else. It means accepting the consequences of a wrongful action or decision, no matter how hard or “unfair” they may seem in our or others’ eyes. God’s standards are not the world’s standards.
At the same time, it might also mean reviewing our attitude towards someone who has done wrong, and asking ourselves: Have we judged that person for life? Do we think him incapable of change? Are we prepared to forgive and to give him a second chance—even if he might fail again?
God allows us to fall and to fail as part of our growth process, but He is always ready to forgive us, to put our sins out of His memory, and to pick us up—even though He knows we will surely stumble again. As we have received grace from a God who is just and merciful, may we gain a deeper understanding of justice and grace, and learn to forgive just as we have been forgiven.
Father God, You are both just and gracious, both righteous and merciful. Grant me a deeper understanding and appreciation of Your character, and teach me to apply them to myself and to others in a way that will honour and glorify You.
Author: Leslie Koh
Leslie Koh spent more than 15 years as a journalist in The Straits Times before moving to Our Daily Bread Ministries. He’s found moving from bad news to good news most rewarding, and still believes that nothing reaches out to people better than a good, compelling story. He likes eating (a lot), travelling, running, editing, and writing.