Breaking the law is, honestly, not that hard to do.
We live in a country with thousands upon thousands of laws — federal, state, county, city — many of which the average citizen couldn’t identify if their life depended on it. I don’t wake up each morning reviewing the Florida statutes before brushing my teeth. So unless someone out there has memorized the entire legal code (and if you have, I have questions), it’s likely we’ve all violated something at some point without even realizing it.
But even if we set aside the obscure laws, what about the obvious ones?
If the speed limit is 65 and you’ve crept up to 66, technically you’ve broken the law. (And yes, I was once pulled over for going 56 in a 55. That story may deserve its own post.) It’s unlikely an officer will write you up for being one mile over, but the line is still the line.
Cross the street without a crosswalk? Jaywalking.
Text while driving? Lawbreaker.
Skip the seatbelt for a quick drive down the road? That’s another one.
Toss a cigarette butt on the ground? Littering. (And yes, that one still grates on me.)
Then there were the Napster and Limewire days. In the late ’90s and early 2000s, downloading copyrighted music or movies without paying for them became almost culturally normal. It felt victimless. It felt harmless. It felt like everyone was doing it. But it was still theft. (I’ll simply say: the statute of limitations has hopefully expired.)
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: most of us don’t see ourselves as lawbreakers because we tend to define “lawbreaking” by the worst examples. We compare ourselves to criminals in orange jumpsuits, not to the standard itself.
But technically? We’ve all stepped over the line.
And that realization does something important to the heart. It softens it.
Because when I recognize that I’ve broken laws — sometimes knowingly, sometimes casually, sometimes thoughtlessly — it becomes harder for me to pound the gavel when I see someone else stumble. It doesn’t mean wrong becomes right. It doesn’t mean standards disappear. It simply means I approach people with a little more humility.
In Matthew 7:1–5, Jesus doesn’t tell us to abandon moral discernment. He tells us to examine ourselves first. Remove the plank from our own eye before obsessing over the speck in someone else’s. That’s not moral indifference; that’s moral honesty.
We still need laws. We still need right and wrong.
But we also need mercy.
Maybe the awareness that I’ve broken a statute or two keeps me from acting like judge, jury, and executioner in the court of public opinion. Maybe it reminds me that grace is something I both need and receive daily.
And maybe it reminds me to:
Slow down. Use the crosswalk. Pay for the music. Buckle up. Keep the texting hands-free.
Because the goal isn’t perfection — it’s growth.
Copyright © 2026 Doug DeBolt.
