James says something deeply subversive to every status-obsessed culture in history: “My brothers, show no partiality as you hold the faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory.” Notice that title carefully: the Lord of glory.

James does not merely say Jesus is glorious. He says Jesus is the Lord of glory itself. Glory belongs to him. Majesty belongs to him. Wealth, honor, power, beauty, splendor, dominion, all derive from him and return to him. Every crown in human history is borrowed jewelry. Every billionaire’s portfolio, every politician’s applause line, every celebrity’s moment beneath the lights, every social hierarchy men construct to measure human worth, all of it is vapor beside the unveiled glory of Christ.

And once that reality grips you, partiality begins to look not merely rude, but absurd.

Why flatter the rich man while dishonoring the poor man if both stand equally small before the throne of Christ? Why treat one person as inherently significant because of a tailored suit, a luxury car, or a large home when the galaxies themselves belong to Jesus? The banker and the janitor alike are dust animated by the mercy of God.

The church, therefore, becomes one of the only places on earth where worldly status is meant to lose its intoxicating power. The ground is level at the Lord’s table. The CEO kneels beside the widow on social security in prayer. The successful businessman sings next to the immigrant laborer. The wealthy donor and the recovering addict receive the same bread and the same cup. Why? Because Christians do not ultimately organize reality around human glory, but around the crucified and risen Christ.

Partiality is a form of practical idolatry. It reveals that we still believe human prestige carries ultimate weight. But the gospel dismantles those illusions. When your allegiance belongs wholly to the Lord of glory, everyone else is flattened into proper proportion beneath him.

Maranatha,

Jordy