For sin shall no longer be your master, because you are not under the law, but under grace. Romans 6:14, NIV

When Victor Hugo wrote Les Mis in 1862 to critique the French monarchy and advocate for social reform, he could never have foreseen that it would spawn so many movie adaptations and even a musical. My personal favorite adaptation (aside from the incredible musical) has become the 1998 film starring Liam Neeson and Geoffrey Rush. Although made as a historical drama, as I rewatched it this week, I couldn’t help but see it in a new light: as a powerful parable of Christian grace clashing with human legalism. Before I go on, I urge you to go and watch the movie if you haven’t already, because everything I talk about from here on is plot related. 

Jean Valjean is a former convict imprisoned for 19 years after stealing a loaf of bread and attempting multiple escapes. He starts the film as a hardened man shaped by the social rejection and injustice he experiences as a result of his criminal status. Upon his transition to parole, he finds out quickly that the world refuses to forget his criminal past. Cold, hungry, and desperate, he is taken in by a bishop who offers him food and shelter, and then, in an act of shocking mercy, offers him forgiveness and a new life when Valjean steals from him, protecting him from the accusatory constables that had caught him mid escape. Rather than call for justice, the bishop gives Valjean the silver he stole - and more, telling him,

“Valjean…you no longer belong to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I am buying for you. I withdraw it from dark thoughts…and I give it to God.”

That interaction is the film’s spiritual fulcrum. A portrait of unearned, Christlike grace - echoing the Gospel truth that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Rom. 5:8). The bishop’s mercy cuts through Valjean’s bitterness, allowing him to become a changed and devout man from then on. Tearing up his parole papers, he begins a new life in service to others. He becomes a mayor of a humble town, a factory manager fighting to protect his worker’s wellbeing, and a benefactor of the poor. His transformation is a striking image of Christian regeneration. “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation” (2 Cor. 5:17).

Valjean lives out this Christlike grace in tangible ways, most beautifully in how he adopts and raises Cossette, the daughter of a prostitute named Fantine. To the world, Cossette is seen as nothing more than the shameful product of sin, but to Valjean she is a treasure that he fights to give the same chance at a fair life that he got. He becomes her father, not by obligation, but out of pure love, attempting to nurture her with the tenderness of a Christian who has already been rescued, and now seeks to do the same for others.

While Valjean’s story is shaped by God’s mercy, Inspector Javert is the exact opposite, representing the law. Javert oversees Valjean in prison, and upon hearing he has fled his parole, spends the entire film hunting him down. To him, justice is absolute, the law unbending, and redemption of the soul impossible. In many ways, he mirrors the Pharisees in the Gospels: obsessed with rules, but unable to see the deeper mercy gifted by the heart of God. 

The conflict between the two reaches its peak during a revolutionary uprising in Paris. Valjean is given a chance to kill Javert, but he refuses, choosing to instead impart the same mercy that had once saved him. This moment is a climactic picture of the Gospel in action - loving one’s enemy, and choosing mercy over vengeance. Valjean continues to live out Scripture, this time Romans 12:21. “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”. 

In the end, Javert’s tragedy is not just his distressing suicide in the final act, but his refusal to accept forgiveness he believes he doesn’t deserve. Faced with Valjean’s mercy, he cannot comprehend a grace that overturns the scales of justice. To him, the law is everything—and in breaking it, even to spare another, he sees himself as irredeemable. His downfall is not caused by evil, but by the crushing weight of shame that grace offered to lift, if only he could receive it.

That’s the truth about human legalism this film so accurately depicts: it cannot comprehend spiritual transformation.

It only sees guilt, while refusing to believe in growth. Javert’s fate echoes Paul’s warning in Galatians 2:16: “for by the works of the law no flesh shall be justified”. The law allowed Javert to identify the sin in others, but it could not address the deeper issue: his heart’s resistance to grace. Had he been able to receive the mercy shown to him, not only might he have found peace, but he could have experienced the same kind of transformation that changed Valjean’s life.

Viewing the film through a Christian lens, the audience is left with this searching question: which path am I on? Am I living like Javert - bound by a desire to control, judgement of others, and a false sense of righteousness? Or am I living like Valjean - humbled by divine grace, learning to forgive, and slowly being transformed spiritually? 

This story can remind us that grace is far from a weakness. It is stronger than our judgements, deeper than our guilt, and more enduring than any law that condemns us. And like Valjean, those of us who have received Christ’s mercy are called to live it out as our hearts are gradually renewed by His love.

In the end, Victor Hugo’s work tells not just of justice and injustice. It is also a parable of renewal in the Christian life. Through Jean Valjean’s story, flaws and all, we are able to see what it means to live a life shaped not by our past mistakes, but by Christ's mercy that transforms every part of our lives.