No Favorites Allowed

Text: James 2:1–13 (NLT)

James 2:1–13 (NLT) 1 My dear brothers and sisters, how can you claim to have faith in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ if you favor some people over others? 2 For example, suppose someone comes into your meeting dressed in fancy clothes and expensive jewelry, and another comes in who is poor and dressed in dirty clothes. 3 If you give special attention and a good seat to the rich person, but you say to the poor one, “You can stand over there, or else sit on the floor"— 4 well, doesn’t this discrimination show that your judgments are guided by evil motives? 5 Listen to me, dear brothers and sisters. Hasn’t God chosen the poor in this world to be rich in faith? Aren’t they the ones who will inherit the Kingdom he promised to those who love him? 6 But you dishonor the poor! Isn’t it the rich who oppress you and drag you into court? 7 Aren’t they the ones who slander Jesus Christ, whose noble name you bear? 8 Yes indeed, it is good when you obey the royal law as found in the Scriptures: “Love your neighbor as yourself.” 9 But if you favor some people over others, you are committing a sin. You are guilty of breaking the law. 10 For the person who keeps all of the laws except one is as guilty as a person who has broken all of God’s laws. 11 For the same God who said, “You must not commit adultery,” also said, “You must not murder.” So if you murder someone but do not commit adultery, you have still broken the law. 12 So whatever you say or whatever you do, remember that you will be judged by the law that sets you free. 13 There will be no mercy for those who have not shown mercy to others. But if you have been merciful, God will be merciful when he judges you.

INTRO: “The Sunday Morning VIP Section”

Have you ever felt out of place?

A friend of mine once told me about a time he visited a well-known church while traveling. He had been camping, looked a bit rugged, and decided to drop in for Sunday worship. When he entered, no one greeted him. People avoided eye contact. He sat in the back, unnoticed. During the service, a staff member even asked if he needed help finding the soup kitchen ministry.

What they didn’t know? He was a pastor, a guest in town, and just wanted to worship. He didn’t correct anyone. He just worshipped. But after the service, a friend who recognized him called out his name and brought him up to meet the lead pastor. Instantly, the atmosphere changed. People leaned in, shook his hand, smiled big.

And he thought to himself: “So I matter more now?”

That’s what James is dealing with here. Not just hospitality. But hierarchy. The creeping poison of favoritism. Of treating people differently based on appearances, income, education, or style. We might never say it aloud, but sometimes the way we act screams, "You matter more."

Craig Groeschel once said, “Respect is earned, but honor is given.” James would say, in the Kingdom, honor isn’t based on net worth—it’s based on the cross. And when we forget that, we lose the gospel.

1. FAVORITISM IS ANTI-GOSPEL (v.1–4)

James starts strong:

“How can you claim to have faith in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ if you favor some people over others?”

Translation: If you’re playing favorites, don’t talk to me about your “deep faith.” Because you’ve misunderstood the whole thing. James isn’t offering a suggestion here; he’s throwing a red flag on our religion. It’s like someone claiming to be a firefighter while lighting matches everywhere they go. It doesn’t work.

Why? Because favoritism contradicts the very character of Jesus.

John Mark Comer says, “To follow Jesus is to dethrone the self as the center of the story.” Favoritism? It puts self-interest right back on the throne. “What can they offer me?” “How will I look sitting next to them?” And when self is on the throne, Christ has no room to rule.

The Greek word used in verse 1 for "favoritism" literally means "to receive the face." In the original language, it's a vivid expression that paints the image of someone making a judgment solely by what is on the surface—what they see in someone’s appearance, clothing, posture, or expression. It's a kind of reactive judgment that never goes deeper than the facade. And James doesn’t mince words—he calls it evil (v.4). Not merely impolite. Not just inconsiderate. Evil. Because this kind of shallow discrimination runs directly against the grain of the gospel. Why? Because it denies grace. Grace says, "You are accepted not because of what’s seen, but because of what’s unseen—your need, and God's mercy." Favoritism slams the door that grace throws wide open. It assumes the best about those who seem successful, and the worst about those who seem broken. But the gospel flips that. The gospel assumes we are all broken—and equally in need of a Savior.

Story: A church once had a homeless man wander in during worship. People subtly shifted away. Later, the same man walked back out and came in again—this time clean-shaven and in a suit. He was the guest preacher. And his message was this very passage. The people gasped. He had revealed their hearts.

Favoritism exposes what we really value. And the truth is, it often reveals how much we still idolize image, power, or personal comfort. It shows us what we instinctively prioritize when we walk into a room—do we move toward the person who can elevate our status, or the one who seems overlooked? James doesn’t let us off the hook. He makes us look hard in the mirror. Because this issue isn’t just about social dynamics—it’s about the gospel.

The way we treat people is a direct reflection of how we understand Jesus. Did He not move toward the leper, the widow, the blind man, the tax collector, the outsider? If my faith is shaped by Him, then my posture must mirror His.

So we have to ask ourselves, honestly: Is my Christianity more about Christ—or about my comfort? Am I shaped by the cross—or am I still chasing crowds? Do I serve out of gospel humility—or strategic benefit? Because Jesus didn’t come to build fan clubs. He came to build a family. And there’s no place for favoritism at the family table of God.

2. THE KINGDOM IS UPSIDE DOWN (v.5–7)

James flips the script:

“Hasn’t God chosen the poor to be rich in faith?”

This is Jesus 101. “Blessed are the poor in spirit…” (Matt. 5:3). Jesus’ kingdom isn’t built like ours—it’s radically countercultural. From the very beginning, Jesus challenged the assumed values of the world. Where society promotes influence, platform, and polish, Jesus champions humility, obscurity, and brokenness.

In fact, when He began His public ministry, He didn’t recruit from the elite or the impressive. He chose fishermen, tax collectors, zealots—men who wouldn’t even make it past the first interview in today’s church planting networks. Why? Because His kingdom isn’t about charisma, clothing, or connections—it runs on grace. Undeserved, unearned, overflowing grace.

And here’s the scandal of grace: it disrupts our systems. In our world, wealth opens doors, beauty draws attention, and prestige earns power. But the economy of heaven operates on entirely different currency. In God’s economy, the greatest are those who serve, the first are last, and the weak are the ones He delights to use.

To be poor in spirit is to know your need—to live with a holy emptiness only Christ can fill. That’s the starting point of faith. And James reminds us that when we ignore the poor—when we elevate the well-dressed and overlook the broken—we are misrepresenting the very heart of the kingdom we claim to follow. We’re showing we don’t really get Jesus.

Because in His kingdom, no one earns a seat at the table. Everyone is invited through the door of mercy. Everyone who walks in does so as a beggar holding out empty hands. And those hands are filled—not with gold or recognition—but with grace upon grace upon grace.

Tim Keller put it this way:

“The gospel is this: We are more sinful and flawed than we ever dared believe, yet more loved and accepted in Christ than we ever dared hope.”

The poor man in the back row? If he’s in Christ, he’s an heir to the throne of Heaven. You just might be seated next to royalty. The rich man in the front row? He’s not disqualified—but he isn’t entitled either.

James adds a sting: “Isn’t it the rich who drag you into court?”

Translation: Why are you chasing the approval of the very people who reject Christ? We try to impress the world that crucified our Savior. It doesn’t make sense.

This is Tyler Staton territory—he says the greatest tragedy of modern discipleship is that we want the benefits of Jesus without the lifestyle of Jesus. We want the peace of His presence, the assurance of salvation, the comfort of knowing we're loved—but not the humility of servanthood, not the suffering of obedience, not the cost of discipleship. We crave the crown but resist the cross.

We want the world’s recognition and the kingdom’s peace—but they are not compatible. You cannot serve both Jesus and popularity, both mission and status, both cross and comfort. The kingdom’s road is not the highway of upward mobility. It is the narrow road of surrender. It leads downward before it leads upward. It leads to the broken places, the hurting people, the uncomfortable conversations, and the messy tables. And ultimately—it leads to a cross.

To walk the way of Jesus is to carry that cross daily. It’s to choose faithfulness over fame, service over spotlight, humility over hype. And James is asking us: is that the road we’re on? Or have we set up our own detour toward ease and applause?

The kingdom of God isn’t for those who want to be seen—it’s for those who are willing to be unseen, as long as Christ is seen in them.

3. LOVE IS THE LAW (v.8–11)

“Love your neighbor as yourself.”

James calls this the “royal law.” Why? Because it governs the Kingdom. Because it reflects the heart of the King. In the ancient world, a royal decree carried unmatched authority—it wasn’t merely a suggestion; it was binding, shaping the values of the realm. In the same way, this royal law—"Love your neighbor as yourself"—isn’t just a nice idea or a suggestion for extra-credit Christians. It’s the foundation upon which kingdom life is built.

This isn’t optional. It’s not advanced Christianity. It’s not the cherry on top. It’s the core. It’s the heartbeat of God's kingdom. Jesus was once asked to name the greatest commandment, and He answered with love for God and love for neighbor. Paul echoes the same in Romans 13:10—"Love is the fulfillment of the law."

When we show favoritism, we violate this royal law. We aren’t just being rude—we’re stepping outside of the ethic of the kingdom. We are saying that some people are more worthy of love than others. And that stands in direct contradiction to the way Christ loved us.

To love your neighbor as yourself means treating their needs, their dignity, and their burdens as your own. It means resisting the instinct to divide people into categories of usefulness or desirability. It’s radical. It’s uncomfortable. And it’s exactly what Jesus did when He chose lepers, tax collectors, and children to be His companions.

So ask yourself—does the way I treat people reflect the royal law? Or does it reflect the rules of a different kingdom entirely? Because if Christ is King, then His law of love must reign in us.

Paul Tripp writes,

“No one gives grace better than the person who knows how much they need it.”

If we play favorites, it’s because we’ve forgotten our own story, or maybe we never actually believed we were deserving of Hell. - ME That single truth—that we were sinners—should change everything. Because once we forget our own depravity, we start acting like judges instead of recipients of grace. When we forget that we were once spiritually bankrupt, morally bankrupt, relationally broken, and without hope apart from Christ, we start to believe we are entitled to the seat of honor. But friends, we weren’t just a little lost—we were dead in our sins.

This is why the gospel is so offensive. It doesn’t say, "You're doing okay and Jesus is a nice add-on." It says, "You were dead, and only Jesus could give you life." We were the outsiders—spiritually poor, morally filthy, emotionally homeless. We were the ones no one would've picked. And yet Jesus stooped low and sat with us. He didn’t pass by. He didn’t look for a better table. He came to us in our dirt and called us beloved.

So how can we now look down on anyone? How can we look at someone else and decide they’re unworthy of our love, our welcome, our attention? The very grace that saved us demands that we offer grace to others. When we show favoritism, we are denying the gospel we say we believe. We’re saying grace is for people like us—but not for people like them. But the cross levels the ground. And remembering our story should level our pride.?

Favoritism may seem like a small sin. But James reminds us: Break one law, and you break the whole thing. God doesn’t grade on a curve. He calls us to holiness. And holiness starts with love.

4. MERCY WINS (v.12–13)

James lands with weight and wonder:

“There will be no mercy for those who have not shown mercy… But if you have been merciful, God will be merciful when he judges you.”

This isn’t workspace salvation. This is the fruit of saving faith. Mercy isn’t the root of your salvation—it’s the evidence that salvation has taken root in you. When James says mercy shown reveals mercy received, he is pointing us to a fundamental truth: people who have truly encountered the mercy of God can’t help but become merciful people.

Think about it—how can someone who’s been rescued from a burning building look down on the person being rescued next? How can someone forgiven of a billion-dollar debt turn around and demand repayment of pennies? Jesus told that very story in Matthew 18, where the forgiven servant refuses to forgive. It’s not just cruel—it’s insane. And Jesus called it wicked.

Mercy, then, becomes a diagnostic tool. It tells the story of your heart. If you live with clenched fists, sharp words, and rigid lines, then James says, check your gospel. Check your experience of grace. Because those who have seen their own desperate need—and have tasted the overwhelming kindness of Christ—cannot hoard that kindness. They pass it on. They open their hands. They lower their voices. They make room at the table.

This is the kind of church James envisions. Not a church of judgment, but of joy. Not one that reflects the courtroom of culture, but the compassion of Christ. That kind of mercy is contagious. And it tells the world: God has been here.

Judah Smith says,

“God isn’t just into saving people from hell. He’s into saving people from themselves.”

Mercy proves we’ve been changed. It reveals a heart softened by the gospel. It means we’ve stopped living by the scales of this world and started living by the love of God. It’s how heaven smells.

Imagine a church where mercy saturates every hallway, every handshake, every conversation. That’s the vision. That’s the invitation.

APPLICATION: MODERN FAVORITISM

Let’s name our temptations:

Do we gravitate toward the rich, the funny, the well-spoken?

Do we sideline the awkward, the single parent, the quiet teen?

Are we more concerned with appearance than with authenticity?

Do our platforms shape who we serve? Or does our Savior?

What if the way we hosted people in our homes felt more like a family reunion than a performance for guests?

What if our dining tables stopped being showcases of our taste and instead became spaces of mercy, grace, and welcome?

What if the love of Christ became the most noticeable thing in our living rooms—not the decor, not the meal, not the playlist?

GOSPEL CALL

Friend, maybe this whole time, you’ve thought God grades you based on performance. That you had to “earn your seat.” That you had to dress a certain way, act a certain way, climb some invisible ladder. But that’s not the gospel.

The gospel is this: You don’t have to impress God. You just have to admit your need. Jesus lived the perfect life you couldn’t, died the death you deserved, and rose so you could live free—completely forgiven, forever loved.

He invites you to sit at His table—not based on your resume, but on His righteousness.

SINNER’S PRAYER

If today you realize you’ve been chasing approval, playing favorites, or keeping God at arm’s length, it’s time to come home. Pray this with me:

“Jesus, I know I’ve sinned. I’ve tried to earn my way, and I’ve played favorites. But today, I surrender. Thank You for dying in my place and rising again. I believe in You. I receive Your grace. Make me new. I’m Yours now and forever. Amen.”

CLOSING CHARGE

Let’s be a people of mercy. Let’s build a church where everyone matters. Where the suit and the hoodie both find home. Where favoritism dies—and grace wins.

Because in Jesus' kingdom… There are no VIPs—only redeemed sinners, deeply loved, freely welcomed.

So let’s throw open the doors. Let’s tear down the walls. Let’s refuse to be a country club and choose instead to be the body of Christ—messy, beautiful, equal at the foot of the cross.

Let mercy win. Again and again and again.