Fair Chances

When Life Isn’t Fair, But God Still Is

Do we all get fair chances in life?

Or do some begin with blessings while others start in brokenness?

We all long for fairness. From the grocery store line to the job interview, we fight for our fair share. But the truth is this—the fairest chances in our lives come not from people, but from God.

Look back at your own story. Count the blessings He poured into your path—moments when doors opened not by merit but by mercy. Those are the fair chances heaven arranged.

In computers and systems, fairness can be programmed—redeeming air miles, withdrawing cash from an ATM, boarding a bus with the right fare. But when it comes to human hearts, fairness isn’t mechanical. It’s messy, emotional, and often imperfect.

That’s why we need the guidance of our Almighty Lord—to walk through unfair places with a fair spirit.

An Unfair World

The world isn’t fair—especially for those who follow Christ. Living by His teachings often feels like swimming against the current. And the deeper we dwell in Scripture, the clearer we see our flaws. Every careless word, every subtle attitude, every prideful gesture can quietly rob us of a fair chance.

That’s why living biblically—practicing the fruit of the Spirit—is not just spiritual discipline; it’s divine strategy.

When we walk in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control, we attract the justice of heaven. Apostle Paul reminds us in Galatians 5:23, “Against such things there is no law.”

When you live by the fruit of the Spirit, no law, no bias, and no human barrier can stop your fair chance. Even when others intend harm, God can turn their actions into miracles. Take my word — and try it. Sometimes, to see what fairness looks like, you have to revisit where grace first found you.

A Certificate and a Chance

It was 1992, and five days remained to apply for my engineering entrance exam. One paper stood between me and a university education — the community certificate. Without it, all my studying, all my hoping, meant nothing.

I went to the municipal office in Perambalur city with a folder and a prayer. The clerk took my application and said, “Come tomorrow.” Tomorrow became the next day. And the next day became another day of waiting under the sun.

They wanted a bribe—one hundred rupees ($2 at that time). I had barely enough for the bus ride home. So I waited.

Drank water from the public tap. Prayed in silence.

Then God sent someone walking down that street—my uncle John. He saw me sitting on the steps and came close. When he heard my story, he said, “Do you know Rajmohan uncle? He is a big Government officer. He’s in the other building. Let’s go.”

Minutes later, we stood before Rajmohan Uncle—a Senior Government officer, a man who once loved my father like a brother. When he heard my father’s name, he rose from his chair. I still remember the speed he got up. Even today people talk about the love between these two great men of our generation. He walked straight to the municipal clerk’s desk.

“Give him the certificate,” he ordered.

The same clerk who made me wait three days began to shake. In ten minutes, the paper was ready—signed, sealed, and handed to me.

The next day, I mailed my application and months later, stepped into my engineering university classroom. Even now, I can feel that moment: the fruit of love, the rush of justice, the warmth of mercy.

Sometimes, God hides fairness inside people’s hearts. He placed Rajmohan Uncle in that office years before I needed him.

He gave me not just a document—but destiny.

Just like the tree He planted for me in Colca Canyon, Peru decades later, He planted an uncle in the Government office, Perambalur city, to give me a fair chance.

“The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps” (Proverbs 16:9, ESV).

Years later, I would see another fair chance—one that didn’t come wrapped in success, but still carried God’s fingerprints of mercy.

The Border of Patience

Sometimes, fair chances don’t bring the results we hope for. But they leave something deeper—trust in a just system, faith in a righteous God, and peace in knowing that truth still matters.

A few years ago, I applied for a TN Permit, a visa that allows Canadians to work in the U.S.A. I had received it several times before. This time, a few administrative mistakes slipped into my papers.

At the border near Vancouver, the first officer reviewed my file, then referred it to a second, a third, and finally—the DHS supervisor himself. They could have rejected it within minutes. Instead, they decided to give me a fair chance. They spent five hours checking, verifying, and asking questions.

I had nothing to hide—a clean life, a simple story. But for the right reasons, they still rejected my application. And I didn’t feel angry.

I knew we made mistakes—quick, overconfident, and unaware of the changed rules.

I turned back toward Surrey, Canada, thankful for the fair chance they gave me. Still, I felt sad about losing the project.

But that same evening, the U.S. client called and said, “It’s okay, Lawrence. You can work remotely from Canada.”

I did—for twenty months straight.

Immanuel—God with us.

Later, I realized something else: I had also given those officers a fair chance. I could have withdrawn my application and walked away clean—but I didn’t.

I let the process speak for itself.

Months later, I met that DHS supervisor again—purely by accident—in a small border-town restaurant. He recognized me immediately and smiled. “You were calm for five full hours,” he said. “I felt bad we couldn’t approve your case. Tell me, do you secretly work for an intelligence agency?”

I laughed. “No, sir,” I said. “Just trying to work for the Kingdom of Heaven.”

Sometimes, God hides patience in a waiting room and fairness in a closed door.

Unlike 1992—poor, hungry, and waiting under a tree in 32°C heat—this time I sat inside a U.S. government office, air-conditioned, comfortable, with water and restrooms nearby. And this time, I even had the privilege to turn back to another great country, my home—Canada—simply by making a U-turn in my own car.

Enjoying fair chances should always awaken our gratitude.

And yet, as life goes on, we learn that fairness isn’t only about receiving it from other—it’s also about giving it to others.

Familiarity Isn’t Fairness

These days, I read a lot about dating, courtship, and marriage. I’m part of several online relationship groups, not because I’m searching, but because I’m studying—preparing for a future Christian dating book.

There are thousands of books about love and marriage on Amazon. Yet the topic never grows old. Each generation writes its own version of what the heart still struggles to learn.

Years ago, in Virginia, I met an American woman who disliked Indian men. Even at work, her body language changed when they entered the room. She had dated three Indian men before—and all three relationships ended badly.

Through her pain, she had built a quiet wall. At work, she had to interact with me often. I kept it professional and respectful.

Over time, she began to open up.

One day, I asked gently,

“Did you ever think you gave them a fair chance — or did familiarity with a certain kind of man make you think you already knew the ending?”

She paused—speechless for a few moments.

That’s when I realized: she had confused familiarity with fairness.

We see it in workplaces too. Hiring managers often give opportunities to people who look like them, talk like them, or come from their same neighborhood.

They think they’re being fair. But sometimes, they’re just being familiar.

Familiarity is comfortable, but it’s not always fair. It can blind us to fresh grace, new friendships, and unexpected goodness.

Fair chances demand courage—to look beyond what we know and trust what we might not yet understand.

“Do not judge by appearances, but judge with right judgment” (John 7:24, ESV).

The Fairness of Christ

When we study the life of Jesus, we see a perfect model of divine fairness. He didn’t choose disciples from the temple courts or the polished schools of Jerusalem. He walked along the sea and called fishermen—men with rough hands and ordinary names.

He saw Matthew, a tax collector despised by his own people, and said, “Follow Me.”
He saw Zacchaeus, hiding in a tree, and said, “Come down, for today I must stay at your house.”
He spoke with the Samaritan woman, a stranger from a rival culture, and revealed to her—not to a Pharisee or priest—that He was the Messiah.

In every encounter, Jesus gave fair chances to those society ignored.

He never judged by background, accent, or appearance.
He looked straight into hearts and saw what others could not see.
That’s divine fairness—mercy unmeasured, grace undeserved, and love that refuses to discriminate.

If the Son of God could extend such fairness, what excuse do we have not to do the same?

Fairness Begins Inside You

If life ever feels unfair, remember — fairness begins inside you. You can’t always control the outcome, but you can control your spirit.

When others shut doors, keep your heart open. When the world withholds, give freely.

Be someone who offers fair chances — not because people deserve them, but because grace demands them.

Forgive easily.

Listen fully.

Correct gently.

Let patience guide your responses and gratitude fill your prayers.

Let the fruit of the Holy Spirit drive your everyday moments.

Fair chances are God’s hidden classrooms—every test of patience, every delay, every rejection is a lesson in mercy.

Conclusion

I’ve learned through years, countries, and countless moments that God’s fairness is never late—it’s layered. He works behind people, inside systems, and even through disappointments to give us what we truly need.

So don’t resent the waiting rooms of life. Don’t fear the moments that seem unfair.

Sometimes, the delay is your protection. Sometimes, the rejection is your redirection. And sometimes, the unfairness of men becomes the stage for the fairness of God.

Prayer

Heavenly father, thank you for being the God of fair chances. Teach me to recognize your hand when doors open and when they close. Help me live with patience, speak with grace, and act with justice toward others. Let the fruit of your Spirit be my daily compass, and may I never forget that every fair chance is a seed of your mercy. In Jesus’ name, amen.

About the author

Lawrence Manickam is a servant of the Lord and founder of Calvary International Mission. He is a Canadian Indian with Mexican permanent residency, living an international life and sharing the love of Christ across cultures. In July 2024, he completed his Master of Arts in Pastoral Counseling at Liberty University, Virginia.

Feel free to contact him if you need biblical counseling, prayer support, or simply a listening ear.

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