No Favorites

“My brothers and sisters, do you with your acts of favoritism really believe in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ?” 

—James 2:1

James doesn’t ease into this passage. He comes right out and names the problem: favoritism. He paints a vivid scene—one person dressed in fine clothes is welcomed, honored, given the best seat. Another, poor and unimpressive, is pushed aside, told to stand or sit on the floor. James calls this what it is: making distinctions, becoming judges with evil thoughts.

On the surface, this sounds like a warning about wealth. But beneath that is something broader and more uncomfortable. James is talking about how quickly we decide who is worthy of attention, dignity, and care—and who is not.

For gay men, this hits close to home.

Our community often claims to value inclusivity, but in practice we frequently reward youth, beauty, muscles, and a very specific idea of desirability. Older gay men are ignored. Average bodies are overlooked. Anyone who doesn’t fit the polished image of the “ideal man” becomes invisible—or worse, quietly dismissed. We may not say it out loud, but our actions speak clearly: you matter less.

I know I’m guilty of this. All you have to do is look at the pictures I post. Before I even came out to myself, I told myself that I liked beautiful, muscular men because I wanted to look like that—not because I was gay. That story helped me avoid a harder truth. It also revealed how deeply I had absorbed the belief that beauty equals worth.

James doesn’t let us off the hook by calling this a harmless preference. He says plainly:

“Have you not made distinctions among yourselves, and become judges with evil thoughts?” (James 2:4)

That’s uncomfortable language. But James isn’t interested in shaming us—he’s interested in freeing us from a system of value that is not God’s.

God’s economy works differently. James reminds us that God consistently chooses those the world overlooks:

“Has not God chosen the poor in the world to be rich in faith and to be heirs of the kingdom?” (James 2:5)

When we privilege only the beautiful, the young, the desired, we mirror the very hierarchies that once crushed us. We recreate exclusion while insisting we’re liberated.

James points us back to what he calls “the royal law”:

“You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (James 2:8)

Love, here, isn’t abstract. It’s concrete. It shows up in who we notice, who we listen to, who we make room for, and who we dismiss without a second thought. Favoritism—even subtle, unspoken favoritism—breaks that law.

This passage ends with both warning and hope:

“For judgment will be without mercy to anyone who has shown no mercy; mercy triumphs over judgment.” (James 2:13)

Mercy triumphs. Not beauty. Not youth. Not desirability. Mercy.

This isn’t about never appreciating beauty. It’s about recognizing how easily we confuse attraction with value—and how often that confusion leads us to overlook the sacredness in bodies and lives that don’t fit our ideals.

The invitation here isn’t guilt. It’s honesty. It’s asking ourselves: Who am I giving the best seat to? And who am I asking to stand off to the side?

God shows no partiality. And every time we choose mercy over judgment, we step a little closer to seeing one another—and ourselves—the way God already does.