Today we're going to talk about the way we treat each other. Specifically, the idea of favoritism.
And what I want us to understand is this isn't a lesson in manners or etiquette. Like he's done before, James wants us to see the real problem. The one that's underneath. Let's jump in.
So James is telling us that favoritism and faith are inconsistent. They don't and can't go together.
What is favoritism? Well, it's another form of math. We calculate someone's value based on a whole set of variables. Which might be a little different for each of us. But favoritism is selfish. It's calculating what someone is worth to me. So James gives us a picture.
There it is — evil motives. In the ancient Roman world, a gold ring meant you were someone with power, a position, connections, and political weight, financial means. You were someone who entered the room and expected the room to reorganize itself around you.
But the second person. This person has nothing to offer. Not just financially, but in terms of relational capital. This is someone you judge before they ever open their mouth.
So what James is saying — these kinds of calculations are off limits for a Christian. Because it's worldly math. Rich man: best seat in the house. Poor man: stand in the corner. Or sit on the floor at my feet. And James says: when you do that, you've revealed something inside.
Now, to be honest, we don't do this, I don't think, not here at TIF. And probably most of us don't think of ourselves as people who do this. We don't consciously seat poor people on the floor or give someone who looks impressive a better seat.
But we do the math.
Think about who you gravitate towards? Who you make an effort to introduce yourself to? The calculations begin even before the introductions. How they dress, their hair, their smell. Then when the words start — job title, company name, university, passport. And maybe you start thinking, what doors can this person open for me — or maybe close? Are they worth the investment of my time and attention?
We may even justify such behavior by saying we are making strategic contacts. That's the modern version of the gold ring. And in business or some other settings it might be necessary at times. But we cannot let this live or grow inside the church. In our church.
I've done this. I have walked into rooms and run this exact calculation. Who could increase my social value?
And I've been on the other side of it too — the person who wasn't considered worthy. Nobody has to say anything. You know it and you feel it.
But listen to me — James is telling us something really important. This isn't just a social problem. It's a theological problem.
Notice what James is doing here. He's again giving us the new math equation. The same idea we learned regarding suffering. Except this time the reversal is about status.
Here it is: The world's value system and God's value system are moving in opposite directions.
James says God chose the poor to be rich in faith — heirs of the kingdom. It's easy to take that idea of poor as meaning financially poor, and at the time it probably did. But I think the Holy Spirit is trying to teach us about those who are poor in the world's eyes — and in that very poverty they have been given something you cannot buy: the treasure of faith.
Let's be clear: James is not saying wealth is automatically corrupting. Nor is he saying that poverty is automatically virtuous. He's saying this: favoritism doesn't even work.
He points out the obvious. When you honor the world's wealthy — you do it because you want access to their status, their approval, their network. It's selfish. And when you manage the distance from the worldly poor — it's selfish too, because you think they will subtract something from you.
And James says your math doesn't work. The people you are playing favorites with — these are the people dragging you into court. They mock your faith. You think you are using them, but you are the one being used.
Love your neighbor as yourself. Jesus called it the second greatest commandment. Paul said the entire second half of the law is summed up in it.
James is saying if you keep the part of the law towards God but fail at the law towards others, you've actually failed it all. Because the law is not a scoresheet. It's the expression of God's character. To break one part of it is to reveal that your heart is still rotating around something other than love for God and neighbor.
So let's take a moment and find out why we show favoritism. And as I've already hinted — it's selfishness. But that answer doesn't get to the root.
Underneath that selfishness we are trying to secure something. Think about what you're actually looking for when you cross the room toward that wealthy person. You want to be seen by someone worth being seen by. You want their association with you — or their assessment of you — to change your status. And when it does, you feel like you matter.
It's just another identity idol. You've made the other person an idol, and you are trying to get that idol to serve your idol — you.
And remember what we learned about idols — they always demand a sacrifice.
Here's how that works. We enter a room, and in the first few seconds, the math is done. Who's here? What do they do? Is this worth my time? You're not doing it consciously. It just happens. A constant low-grade assessment of every interaction: what's the return on this?
If your network is your security, then you can never stop networking. Every room is a performance. Every conversation is an audition. You're always on trial, and your worth is always being recalculated based on your last interaction. And even when it works, it doesn't work. Even when you get the contact, secure the deal, get the introduction — you feel it for a moment, but then it starts again. Because there's always someone more impressive to impress. There's always a better seat you don't have yet. The idol never says: enough. It always says: never enough.
The person across the room with the gold ring — the VP, the partner, the keynote speaker. In your heart's operating system, they're functioning as a savior. You're looking for someone with the power to speak a verdict on your life. To tell you: You belong here. You matter. You're enough.
That's a religion. It has rituals — the handshake, the card, the follow-up email. It has a priesthood — the well-connected, the influential, the impressive. And it has a liturgy: every conversation is an audition, every interaction is an offering, every connection is a prayer for justification.
James is showing us that our worship is disordered. You are looking to a human being to speak a verdict over you that only God has the authority to speak.
James called this double-mindedness. You are trying to live in two kingdoms at once, and your feet give it away. Which direction do you move when someone impressive walks through the door? Which direction when someone costly walks through?
Favoritism is what double-mindedness looks like in action.
What you need is the security and identity that destroys the idol and sets you free.
Jesus can do that. He did it at the cross. He held the seat of highest honor. And he left it. He crossed the greatest distance in the universe. He became poor so that we, in our poverty, could become rich. He didn't manage us as potential cost or benefit to his reputation. He hung naked on a cross so you could be clothed in righteousness.
What does this look like in real life? Watch Jesus at work. Let me show it to you — Luke 19, Jesus' encounter with Zacchaeus.
Zacchaeus finally encountered someone who wasn't calculating. And it broke him open completely.
Jesus didn't need anything from Zacchaeus. But he could give Zacchaeus something money couldn't buy.
There's something else you need to see. The crowd is doing the same math. Zacchaeus is a liability — Jesus is associating with a sinful man. The crowd's verdict on Jesus didn't mean anything to him because Jesus didn't need anything from the crowd.
Mercy triumphs over judgment. Do you know what this is? It's a description of Jesus.
You and I deserve judgment. We have broken the law not just at one point but at many. We've played favorites. We have loved people for what they could do for us and kept others at arm's length because they cost too much.
Judgment is an appropriate verdict. But instead of judgment, we got mercy — and mercy brought us victory and hope.
Judgment wasn't cancelled — it was paid. At the cross, the full weight of the judgment you and I deserve fell on Jesus. He didn't calculate who was worth the investment. He did it for all of us.
When you not only believe that but receive it for yourself — the idols you've been making sacrifices to get destroyed and you get set free. Because you understand: the most important evaluation of your life has already been given, and it wasn't based on your resume or your connections or your performance.
And when that's true — when it's actually true inside you, not just true as a concept you affirm — there is no one you will meet who is either a benefit or a liability. Because you quit determining the value of someone based on what they can do for you or what they will cost you. Because you really understand that all of our value was settled at the cross.
Let me pause and say something. Some of you are already thinking about what to do. You're thinking about finding that person who gets left out of conversations, and you're going to go talk to them. And you're going to feel like that's what this sermon was for.
Stop it. Just stop for a second.
If you walk over to that person to prove to yourself that the gospel has taken hold in you — that's still the old math. You're just doing it for yourself, or even worse, maybe you're doing it for God.
The gospel doesn't give you a new project. It gives you a different heart.
Here's what that actually looks like. You're still going to be put in these situations. And you're still going to see — and maybe even feel — the pull of the old math. That's not going to just disappear. But here's the difference: it doesn't own you anymore.
Because you've been changed. Your heart has been changed — people can no longer save you, and you can't save them. You can see them clearly, maybe for the first time: everyone is a person made in the image of God.
You're not going over there to prove you're a good Christian. You don't need anything from them. And they don't need anything from you. They need the real Savior. Which means, maybe for the first time, you're free to give. Free to love without an agenda.
Jesus didn't play favorites. The beloved Son of heaven left the seat of highest honor, the right hand of God — no better place in the universe. And he crossed the greatest distance to sit down next to you and me and rescue us.