Life’s Legalities

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“… we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way… “

- Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities (quote probably ripped totally out of context)

Purpose?

I figured that after all I’ve been through, and knowing that yes, there were better paying jobs with less of the agony that legal practice provides most generously, I would have probably done something else.

So why do I stay? Why do I decide that this is where I will be in the coming years?

Because He wants me here. To be a servant of the God of justice. To use His wisdom, His strength and the skills He has granted me to usher the reign of God in the arena of law. To bring trust back into the system, only because we trust Him who called the system to be. To be light of the world, and salt of the earth.

A friend asked me the other day, whether I believe that we could redeem the Malaysian justice system. Over my short period of learning and experience, I have come to understand one thing (so far). It is this: our aim is not to fight for justice as if it depended on us. We are here, rather, to let God have access into the system – by using us as His mouthpiece, as His servants. When He enters the system, it will become just. Since our God is a God of justice, wherever He is present, justice is manifested. A Godly system that is unjust is an oxymoron.

And that takes a load of my back. It is He who does the work, and it is He who charts the course of the system. And while in the midst of despair we can perceive no hope and that we are going “the other way”, we realise that with Him, we have everything before us and where He’s going, that is the direction I will take.

Welcome, 2010.

My thought/realisation for the day. I wonder if I’m right to say what will be said here, so feel free to comment:

Some people need an idea of their destiny. It’s probably their personality, that determines this ‘need’ to know the ONE SOLE PURPOSE of their lives so that there is something they can work towards. They see the lives of great people in history and go “this person was made for this great exploit which he has accomplished” – William Wilberforce and the abolition of slavery, Martin Luther King Jr and the civil rights movement, Ralph Winter and the modern missionary movement, Jim Elliot and the salvation of the Auca Indians – and then thinks to himself, what great exploit was I made to do?

But the chances are that despite feeling like he’s figured out his ‘destiny’, that supposed destiny always changes. After all, ‘unreached peoples’ was only a problem that Ralph Winter helped to bring to light. And Jim Elliot never saw the salvation of the Auca Indians he wanted to reach.

Perhaps ‘destiny’ – that specific exploit that God will accomplish through a person – is planned by God and meant for hindsight. For now, I may be a practising lawyer and leading the development of a youth mission movement (feel free to ask me more! haha). Several years from now, that may change and God may take me somewhere else in ministry/life; this being perhaps one reason why my pastor told me to always “work yourself out of a job”. And this journey He takes me is all part of developing my ‘destiny’, something I may only be able to see on hindsight while I am alive, or when I meet my Maker.

What is perhaps more important therefore is to know the general ‘calling’ of God – what is God calling us as mankind to do?

Glorify Him, disciple nations and bring more nations before the throne of God. (roughly said, definitely needs editing)

Then, there are those  who, perhaps again by personality, do not require to know their one ‘destiny’. They take things as they come. They obey God wholeheartedly and live in the path He has set out for them, without feeling the need to know their final destination. A matter of different personality, but in principle, correct.

In the end, I think a person who understands that He is called of God to glorify Him, and takes the journey that God leads him on, in obedience to the Word and, in it, the Great Commission, will fulfill his destiny in Him.

Hmm.

“… it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair…”

You know, law does things to you. Just like politics, I think many chambering students, such as I, enter into legal practice thinking they can change the world. Not all, I’m sure. But a good number. Perhaps even, a critical mass.

I’ve attended and heard of many of my contemporaries being called to the Bar. It is always a festive event, but what I love to hear are the speeches made pursuant to their calls.

“The Petitioner desires to use his training and skill in the practice of law to help society.”

“The Petitioner believes that this path that she has taken is not just to enable her to make money, but to pursue justice.”

A former colleague even told me once that a person’s call to the Bar is the one moment when you feel like you can save the world. We laughed. Because the realities of the pupil’s life, or even the lawyer’s, is gritty. And perhaps, in many ways, saving the world is the last thing on any practitioner’s mind when it comes down to reality. Not to say that other jobs are any different. But those were seasons of agony, when you’d rather get run down by a truck than step into the office; seasons of indifference and apathy, when the dilemma was so great that it caused me to just not bother; seasons of tears, wondering when the agony would all end.

There were, however, seasons of hope, when a man is freed from his chains or a sister is returned the money that she deserves; seasons of joy and elation (and man-hugs), as seeing the effects of a successful hearing in the Federal Court trickle down to the people, its stakeholders; seasons of purpose, when we are able to lift ourselves to a vantage point to see the big picture and the role we play.

Both seasons were necessary – they strengthen, empower and create real people. People who have seen the difficulties, but can look up and remain purposeful.

But, for what purpose?

“… it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness…”

I remember, at some point in my pupillage, the phrase “as I walk through the valley of the shadow of death” rang very clearly. No, I wasn’t dying. Heck, it was just pupillage, right? Everybody goes through this. Perhaps it was the stark reality of the demands of practice (they say it’s worse than pupillage) that was hitting me in the face. Whatever it was, it felt like a dark moment. It was.

It was brokenness, but it was also dependence. As the song goes, “the shadow proves the sunshine”.

A friend sent a text message, quoting Psalm 28:7 – “The Lord is my strength and my shield, my heart trusts in him, and he helps me. My heart leaps for joy, and with my song I will praise him”

Another friend quoted Jeremiah 1:5 – “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you…”

There isn’t anything brighter than the Word, really.

Then there was a most surprising three-part text message I received from a lawyer:

Its been tough few days & challenging month. Thanks for sticking with it. Kindly sleep early tonight.

What I remember most from those days was the strength of God, and the support of friends who would laugh, cry, pray and persevere with me. And there was Light.

“… it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity…”

The pupil usually starts his pupillage with a set of ideas in his head. These ideas may not apply to every pupil, but each one has his unique set of ideas that form his imagination of pupillage. Here are some examples, generally:

1. I want to be a bastion of justice, rights, etc.
2. I want sane working hours
3. I want to earn a good amount of money during my pupillage
4. I want to learn as much as I can
5. Pupillage is a breeze
6. I only intend to do litigation/corporate/conveyancing alone

And for one very excited pupil, pupillage threw him a curve ball.

Reality kicked in. Belief seemed incredulous.

I came into pupillage like Moses entered Egypt after the burning bush experience – excited. Imagining myself in big cases, upholding the cause of the marginalised, defending liberty, etc. And within two months, the ‘hero’ in me died.

At that point, reality and I met face-to face. We had a talk. And the best place to chat? The KL Court cafeteria.

Was this what I really wanted to do? Would I pay the price? Is this what is demanded of me? All of my ideas of what it took to become a lawyer, those beliefs, were shattered. What would they be replaced with? What kind of beliefs would I hold on to eventually?

7 months on, and what seemed incredulous has been re-cemented as reasonable belief, forged by the circumstances of reality.

Yes, I still want to serve the marginalised. But I know a little more about what it takes.

Yes, I want to be a skillful and effective lawyer. But I know also that it starts with the mundane and routine.

Yes, I want to protect rights and do public interest litigation. But I need to also earn a living.

It is obvious then, how easy it is to lose sight of the vision, and replace it with the comforts of life. But I know my Lord has called us to a life of sacrifice.

On the day of my call to the Bar, my mover (the lawyer who moved my call the Bar) exhorted me:

Extreme in the defence of liberty is no vice; moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue

Thanks. I needed that.

“… it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness…”

True. And very evident. It would seem that throughout most of my pupillage, there existed a chasm. It was called the lawyer’s table.

The lawyer sits at his/her side of the table. That’s the side with the fancy ergonomic chair that has wheels at the bottom and can swing from side to side.

Then there’s me. Standing at the other side of the table, ready with paper and pen to jot down every word.

Wisdom on one side, foolishness on the other.

Wisdom then dictates. With pen and paper, I furiously scribble every word, direction, picture, note, point of law, quip, question and DEADLINE. The idea? Write as much as you can, mull over it when you get back to your table.

Then the work starts – drafting a letter, researching a point of law, drafting an affidavit, calling up a government officer, staring at a statute, drafting an opinion, reading a case (and dozing off), asking for help (!), consulting a textbook, writing minutes and emailing.

And when the work is done, or the DEADLINE has arrived (whichever is earlier, normally the latter), foolishness meets wisdom, to deliver his work. The chasm – the lawyer’s table – reappears.

And oh, the multitude of responses wisdom giveth: A blank stare. Or the exclamation, “what is this?!??”. Or a blank stare that silently exclaims, “what is this?!??”

But as time passes, the chasm slowly and surely decreases. Wisdom is being imparted, overcoming foolishness. Common sense is restored.

And eventually, in time, wisdom affirms.

You see, it is not about the level of knowledge that one person has compared to another. It is the level of wisdom. The knowledge gap between a lawyer of 20 years’ seniority and a pupil of no experience will always be there. But the level of wisdom, that is attainable.

I don’t admit that I am as wise as those who have walked the road of legal practice. But as one prominent lawyer once told me, “When the Court declares you a ‘fit and proper’ person to be called to the Bar, it is not that you have learnt all there is to learn. But you have portrayed the requisite attitude to learn and do your best.”

That is wisdom.

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…”

Quite frankly, there really is nothing like it. 9 months. Short enough to whizz by, yet long enough to bring life into the world. And within that time period, all of humanity’s major expressions – of love, joy, pain, guilt, ecstasy, humour, fear, faith – can be experienced.

Just like one partner told me at the end of my pupillage, when I asked her how she has lasted so long in the profession. She said, “There really is no feeling like the one you feel when you’ve won a case.” Pausing for a moment, she continues, “Then again, there’s is no feeling like losing the case either”.

The best of times? Oh yes indeed.

There is nothing like knowing that the file you’ve been working for hours upon, not just into the wee hours of the morning, but right into the middle of the day and up till the evening of that day, ends in victory. My first trimester (April 5th) was celebrated with a killer 36-hour work marathon. The result? A win in the High Court for the former Perak MB a month later. Unfortunately, I wasn’t there in the Court to entertain unbelievable delirium. But in the corner of the office where I sat, I entertained copious amounts of ecstasy. And I don’t even mean the blue pills either. It’s seventh heaven. It’s joyous celebration, calling for a celebratory hug with all and sundry, including the founding partner. Happiness that cannot be contained, springing forth like the Old Faithful.

The worst of times? Oh yes indeed.

The 36-hour working marathon. And did I say killer as well? The learning curve was steep, the lawyers’ rebuke, at times vicious. By the end of my first two months, the reality of legal practice (or the taste of it) was kicking in. Throwing me off balance, tempting me to retreat. It was the feeling of being in the ‘pit’. Clueless, helpless, restless. The workdays were workdays, and then weekends, workdays.

My master once asked me, while I was relating the hectic-ness of my pupillage then, “what do you mean by (going home) late?”

“Erm, working till 7 am?”

“Ah, I understand now.”

Back then, it was no laughing matter, especially when the only thing sustaining you is adrenaline.

There were difficult moments. Times when you wished to just break down and cry.

But we never forget, it was also the best of times.

Thursday night dropped a bomb on me. Little did I know what to expect, little I still know now. The only thing still echoing in my mind from that night was Acts 13:1-3, and I still don’t understand it. Me?

In the hurried ‘mess’ of sorting out my call to the Bar, and the many errands and responsibilities to run, major decisions are being made. The ‘me’ I know is being carved out into some kind of sculpture, the form of which I cannot yet imagine. Who I will be in the years to come, and what I do with my life seem to hinge on this very moment.

But yet a part of me thinks that it isn’t made out to be as major or as daunting as it sounds. Am I trivialising the issue, perhaps? I do not know.