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She still remembers the sound of that foyer door. It was the mid-1960s. A little girl stood just outside the sanctuary while the congregation prayed. The room was still when another woman slipped in from the street—tattered jeans, eyes uncertain.

“Am I too late?” the woman whispered.

The girl smiled and said, “No—you’re welcome to sit with me and my family.”

Before they could move, an usher approached them. His voice was polite but firm: “I’m sorry, ma’am. You’re not dressed appropriately for church.”

The woman’s shoulders fell. She turned and walked back into the sunlight.

Decades later, that little girl, now a grown woman, still remembers that moment. Not the sermon that day, not the hymns they sang, but the sound of a door closing behind someone who came looking for grace.

The Problem James Confronts

That moment captures the very issue the New Testament letter of James addresses in chapter 2. He describes two visitors entering a worship gathering. One wears fine clothes and gold rings. The other arrives in worn, dirty garments. Instinct takes over: the wealthy guest is ushered to the best seat; the poor guest is told to stand in the back or sit on the floor.

James calls this partiality—literally, in the language of the New Testament, “receiving the face.” It means judging by what can be seen: appearance, status, usefulness. It turns relationships into transactions and church doors into checkpoints. And James names it for what it is: a contradiction of the gospel.

Fixing Our Eyes on the Lord of Glory

James begins his correction by lifting eyes to Jesus: “Show no favoritism as you hold the faith in our Lord Jesus Christ, the Lord of glory” (2:1). The cure is not etiquette; the cure is worship.

Throughout Scripture, God is revealed as impartial. “The LORD your God… shows no partiality and accepts no bribes” (Deut. 10:17). When Peter entered the home of Cornelius, he confessed, “God does not show favoritism but accepts from every nation the one who fears Him” (Acts 10:34–35).

God does not “receive faces.” He sees hearts.

To hold faith in the Lord of glory while sorting people by polish or potential is to misrepresent His heart. When Christ fills the field of vision, lesser glories—status, appearance, applause—lose their shine. The heart grows quiet before His majesty, and people begin to be seen as He sees them.

The Lens of Grace

Seeing through His eyes changes how people are treated. Grace does not erase right and wrong, but it refuses to reduce anyone to their worst moment or their visible lack. Grace looks past the outward appearance to the soul beneath. It asks different questions: not “What can this person do for me?” but “How can Christ’s love reach this person through me?”

A Face Grace Would Not Pass By

Watch Jesus in Jericho (Luke 19:1–10). A tax collector named Zacchaeus—scorned for collaborating with Rome and enriching himself at others’ expense—climbs a sycamore tree just to see Jesus. The crowd sees a cheat. Jesus sees a soul.

“Zacchaeus, hurry down,” He says. “I must stay at your house today.”

One sentence, and every wall comes down. Grace walks through the door that no one else would open. And what follows is not indulgence but transformation: Zacchaeus meets mercy and becomes generous, making restitution to those he had wronged. That is how grace works. It does not deny sin; it delivers from it. It sees what God can make, not only what society has labeled.

When Church Hurt Has a Name

Now return to that 1960s foyer. A woman in tattered jeans. A child ready to welcome. An usher who believed he was guarding reverence—but ended up closing the door on grace. Many carry stories like that—turned away by dress codes spoken or unspoken, by sideways glances, by the sense that belonging must be earned.

Please hear this: that was not the heart of Jesus. He does not sort by wardrobe, résumé, history, or reputation. He does not “receive faces.” He sees hearts—aching, searching, made in His image—and He welcomes all who come to Him.

For any who have known church hurt, let this be clear: God’s love for you is not fragile and not for sale. The Lord of glory did not come to recruit the polished; He came to redeem the broken. The door of His heart is open, and His invitation still stands.

For the church, where partiality has crept in, repent. Where fear or habit has narrowed welcome, widen it. Fix eyes on the Lord of glory until lesser glories fade. Look at people through the lens of grace: notice the one others overlook; listen before labeling; choose compassion over comfort; make room at the table for one more person.