Prisoners are Measured By Our Worst Choices

"No one deserves to be measured by the worst thing he has ever done." 

A prisoner advocate friend of mine made this powerful statement to me several years ago as we discussed the subject of advocacy, yet the truth is that as humans we tend to define people by their worst choices. 

Think about it: former president Bill Clinton is remembered largely for the Monica Lewinsky scandal, Jim Baker is remembered as a womanizing cheater, OJ Simpson as a murderer who got away with it, and Bernie Madhoff as a greedy scam artist. All the other achievements and the good qualities of each of these men are overshadowed by the stain of their bad choices. 

Certainly, some people are characterized by a lifetime of wrong choices and bad character. Others, either in a moment of weakness or through an unrestrained passion, erased a lifelong reputation of trustworthiness in a single act.

All of the guilty men in prison fall into one of these two categories. Some are lifelong losers who either can't figure out how to make good choices or who refuses to out of rebellion. Others are suffering the consequences of a single bad choice, or even the accumulation of a series of bad choices. These choices forever altered their lives and often the lives of others. But must these choices forever define these men? Must one forever remain a drug dealer, a robber, a rapist, or a murderer? 

Politicians, celebrities, and wealthy and influential people often hire public relations firms to remake a tarnished image; however, most criminals have neither the resources nor the wherewithal to conduct such a makeover. Instead, they must fight a constant uphill battle to show their commitment to new and better choices. 

Bad behavior should have consequences, but if we are to become a society that embraces restoration over retribution, we must stop measuring people by their worst choices; instead, we must begin to define a pathway towards wholeness so those who regret their worst choices can use them as sign posts for where their change began, not as edifices to where their lives ended. 

Giving someone a chance at redemption can be scary. Some who attempt to redeem themselves will fail miserably. But fear of another's failure should not keep us from embracing grace. Grace might just be the only antidote for failure, and who couldn't use a little grace from others?