I wouldn't pretend to tell you we don't pay our lawyers well.

Hear, O seekers of truth and justice, the words of Jay Alan Sekulow, who declared: “I wouldn’t pretend to tell you we don’t pay our lawyers well.” At first glance, this saying seems plain, almost pragmatic, yet within it lies a revelation about the nature of service, value, and reward. For it reminds us that the pursuit of justice is not only about lofty ideals and moral courage, but also about sustaining those who labor in the courts and in the cause of law.

The meaning of his words rests upon the principle of honest acknowledgment. Too often, men in high places cloak their dealings in false modesty, pretending that noble service alone sustains their warriors of the law. But Sekulow strips away this pretense. He admits openly that lawyers—those who prepare arguments, who wrestle with statutes, who defend causes—are compensated well, because their skill, training, and labor are of great worth. To deny this would be to dishonor both the profession and the truth.

The ancients also knew this truth. In Rome, the advocates who stood in the Forum were rewarded richly, not only with coin but with honor, for their words swayed nations. Cicero himself, master of rhetoric, received both wealth and influence as his reward for service to the republic. Yet with wealth came expectation: those who were paid well were also expected to serve well, to uphold the dignity of the law, to speak not merely for profit but for justice. Thus, Sekulow’s words echo this ancient balance: that fair reward sustains noble labor, but it must always be joined to integrity.

Consider the story of Thurgood Marshall, who led the legal battles that dismantled segregation in America. Though his victories brought him fame, his work began in long years of toil, representing clients who could scarcely pay him. Later, as he rose in prominence, his rewards increased, but so too did his responsibilities—to stand as a guardian of justice, to speak for those who had no voice. His life reminds us that though lawyers may be paid well, the measure of their greatness lies not in the size of their reward but in the magnitude of the justice they serve.

Yet Sekulow’s words also contain a warning. Wealth and reward can sustain, but they can also corrupt. A lawyer who is paid well but forgets the cause of truth becomes little more than a mercenary in a robe. History is littered with such figures, those who sold their eloquence to the highest bidder and bent the law to the service of tyranny. Thus, we are reminded: wealth itself is not evil, but it must be bound to purpose. To pay lawyers well is just, but only if they in turn serve justice well.

The lesson for us is clear: value must be given to those whose labor sustains society. Whether in the courts, in the schools, or in the fields, those who work with skill and integrity deserve reward. But both giver and receiver must remember that wealth is not the end, but the means to sustain noble service. To honor a worker with fair pay is righteous; to serve only for pay is folly.

Therefore, O listener, take this teaching into your own life. Do not shrink from rewarding those whose work sustains justice, health, and knowledge, for their labor is precious. But also, if you yourself are the one rewarded, remember the covenant that comes with it: to serve not only yourself, but the greater good. Let your wealth, whether little or great, be joined to responsibility, and let your gifts be used not merely to enrich, but to uplift.

So let Sekulow’s words echo through the ages: “I wouldn’t pretend to tell you we don’t pay our lawyers well.” It is no sin to reward labor richly, but it is folly to forget why that labor exists. Pay justly, serve nobly, and remember always that wealth without purpose is dust, but wealth joined to justice is a foundation for generations to come.